#actually i spent a decent portion of my day playing it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taigaoftundrablog · 7 months

Text

I'm afraid this isn't a weekly blog anymore, but here's something to make up for it

Experiment on phone usage starring myself

The main goal here is to:

1. Reduce my phone usage

2. See how your phone affects your life

Day 1

it's a tuesday. i have decided to go a decent portion of my day without my phone. i did not touch my phone during school, but after it, usage was pretty much average. i have not touched discord for the entire day, and i don't seem to be getting any notifications from there. hopefully i can lessen usage tomorrow, as i did use my phone quite a lot, still.

i did notice how not using my phone affected me though. for example, i was out of things to do for most of the breaks, since everyone else is stuck looking at their phones constantly. i'm marking this as a decent start.

Day 1 usage: 3h 30min

Most used app: Google (i look through the news feed a lot, it's a bad habit, but I will hopefully be looking at it a lot less by the end of this study/experiment.)

Time I went to bed: 21.30

Day 2: Plans

it's not wednesday yet, but my plans are:

- try get phone usage down to 3 hours

- start working on something, which i might find productive

- don't check discord, as not doing so will show myself that i'm actually determined about this

hopefully i fill my expectations of myself tomorrow.

Day 2

now it's wednesday, just got out of school. it's 14.26 right now and i have around 45 minutes of phone usage right now after allowing myself to use my phone normally school. 45min is about average for me and most of that time is used on school related stuff (checking schedule, etc.). i got out of school a few hours later yesterday so we'll see how today goes at home. have not touched discord, don't know how people there are doing, as the app quite literally is not giving me any notifications right now.

22.08. i am about to go to bed. i've spent most of my day playing on switch, which i feel like is more productive than being on my phone all day. first discord notifications popped up, apparently people are hoping i'm alright. it's nice to know that people care about how i'm doing but i have still yet to open discord. honestly opening it up seems worse than not doing so, so i may delay that to tomorrow evening, where i'll have something to talk about (nintendo direct).

Phone usage: 2h 18m (I really overdid myself there.)

Most used app: Chrome (I looked at random stuff online, Nintendo and school related)

Time I went to bed: 22.16

Day 3: Plans

plans for day 3 are: keep phone usage around the same, try not to go above 3 hours if plausible (opening discord for the first time in 4 days may change that to be over 3h though), and to stay focused on schoolwork. i'm honestly seeing some improvement, although not too much.

Day 3

literally just woke up. it's 6.09. i'm pretty intrigued to see how this day goes as i'll most likely be opening discord for the first time in a while.

welp, can say that people were worried about me. i do feel like i should've notified them about that before as uh they thought i pretty much died. whoops.

it's pretty late, and from what i've noticed, discord is the main reason i go to bed late and use my phone so much. not much else to note for today.

Phone usage: 3h 38min

Most used app: Geometry Dash (The game's just fun, alright?)

Time I went to sleep: 21.59

Stuff about day 4 & 5

have to preface these days a bit, as i did not initially write anything for these days, so i'm writing them on monday. main reason: i was too busy spending time doing other things + i did not feel like it. i'm currently thinking why i just stopped for two days, but i believe it's due to a lack of motivation/willingness, which i've seen a lot in myself. could honestly be due to improper phone usage, which was the main thing i need to work on here.

i've got to fix this somehow.

Day 4

pretty much spent all day at home playing on switch and whatever.

Phone usage: 3h 6min

Most used app: Discord (i KNEW this was gonna happen)

Time I went to sleep: presumably around 23.00

Day 5

same thing as yesterday, but we went to the store etc.

got new shoes, it'll take some time to get used to these but they're nice so far.

Phone usage: 2h 46min

Most used app: Discord (I'm genuinely addicted to human interaction, could be worse though of course (ahem TikTok, thank god I don't use that app))

Time I went to sleep: around 22.00

Day 6

start of a brand new week, it's monday now, i am currently at school, maybe i'll try reading this dang book in the evening as i got an assignment to read it, have to be done on thursday and this has like 250 pages. i will promise to you that i'll have less than an hour tomorrow, if i fail, i will draw something daily for a month AND it won't be myself constantly.

it's 22.02. sitting in bed, have done absolutely nothing productive today. have not touched that book which i have to read in like 3 days. guys i am so mentally stable and motivated

anyway yeah tomorrow is the sub-hour phone usage day which only means that i should probably be sleeping soon. i'ma actually get started on that book

Phone usage: 5h 31min (Mostly due to me also drawing for a decent while, 1h 21min to be exact.)

Most used app: Discord (Who would've thought?)

Time I went to sleep: around 23.00

Day 7

last day, i have like 15 minutes to write this

i have officially passed the test of less than an hour of phone usage and i am pretty proud of that. i've read the book i was meant to read a decent lot, at page 75 or something now. very cool.

not using my phone much does feel very odd honestly, but it feels kinda freeing in a way too, since i'm not stuck to this screen for 4 hours a day. i will do the final thoughts section tomorrow.

Phone usage: 48min

Most used app: Notes (Diary thing about this book which I have to write)

Time I went to sleep: 21.55, goodnight everyone

Closing thoughts (very cool)

i am finally free

phone usage has dipped a decent bit i would say, as it previously was up to 5 hours some days, now it seems to be at around 3 hours a day. there are of course exceptions, though, but i accept them

well, i shouldn't say free but still

pretty interesting how that week went. i believe my main lesson here is that you pretty much can't get rid of your phone in your life no matter how much you want to, since actually important things are sort of mixed up with less important ones.

i believe i have succeeded at this odd test somewhat

feels like i've been focusing more properly on the things i actually need to focus on, which is good for a change.

will see you all at some point, i'll try next week maybe!

0 notes

going-through-some-stuff · 1 year

Text

Entry Twenty - Saturday, January 28 2023

It has officially been the longest I’ve gone between the posts, over a year at this point. A decent amount has changed since December 2021 when I last updated this thing. I finally actually moved to KC since my time in Manhattan came to an end and I started a new job a few weeks ago. I’m still definitely depressed, but being in somewhere with plenty to do and tons of friends has made me probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Having a more regular schedule has also helped, since I don’t have to drive four hours round trip to another city for work now that I actually live here. I live by myself now which is a huge plus. I loved my old roommates but living alone is much more ideal for just how I am as a person. I play magic basically every week in person at this point which is fucking awesome, this game is so much fun and so many cool people play it. I was skimming the post before this and talked a lot about just starting my first actual corporate level job so I’ll touch on that again. First thing’s first, working from home is infinitely better than being in office. Being able to just fuck around when I have down time is a huge plus for me, along with just being able to get out of bed later than normal, etc. If you get a job that requires you to work in office more than like one day a week after an initial training period look for other options unless you really like being in office for some reason. Also onto the big news of me starting a new job. It seems like I didn’t really go into specifics about what exactly my job was in the previous post, so I’ll continue that trend here. I left my old job for a myriad of reasons, being things like pay, benefits, number of days per week in office, etc. I liked most of my coworkers and the handful of you that I was/am actual friends with know who you are and are the reason I stayed as long as I did. The breaking point for me was when I got to my end of year review and earned a very high rating and was told I basically do everything above average, especially for only being in industry for a year, and they gave be a forty-one cent an hour raise from $20.50 to $20.91. I asked my supervisor if there was any way to get more because of my performance (for reference people who got at or below average got the same percentage increase as I did), and they basically spent an hour talking in circles about company policy, there’s nothing they can do, blah blah blah. So I immediately updated my LinkedIn and started looking for new jobs. Low and behold, there’s a company in the same industry half that is half the drive time from my apartment to my old job, has better benefits, offered me $55k/year starting (about $27/hour), and also I was going to get to learn how to do things I had been wanting to learn about for a pretty significant portion of my time at the old job. The only downside was saying goodbye to some of my customers and a handful of coworkers who I do still miss seeing on a regular basis. From what I’ve been told though, some of the people I did say goodbye to were able to get a pretty good raise because another one of the more competent employees left about the same time I did, so it’s not all bad I guess. I truly am probably the happiest on a day to day basis that I’ve been in a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days. Today started out pretty good, I went thrifting with a friend I haven’t hung out with in months and got some good stuff. We also got some solid Chinese food (the crab rangoon was solid and the general tso’s was ok but still good). I got home and wanted to take a nap since I didn’t get much sleep last night but that just didn’t happen and I think that’s why I feel as shitty as I do right now. Being tired and the coming down from spending most of a Friday evening with a lot of friends and then immediately getting up and going to hang out with another friend the following morning can hit pretty hard. I’m hoping to sleep like a damn rock tonight but I know that’s not going to happen since I don’t every get good sleep, but hey who knows. Either way, I’m going to try and go to bed now so it’s ya boi, AW, signing off.

P.S. it seems like I’ve been pretty hit or miss with using the tags, so I’m going to just stop using them entirely. It’s a lot of work and I just don’t feel like it lol.

0 notes

tommyoboe · 2 years

Text

MANCHESTER - PART TWENTY EIGHT.

Ah, reading my last entry makes me super happy. As I am asked more and more what my plans for the future are I realise that I'm content with a combination of small pockets of potential work and the complete unknown, which still makes up the largest portion of that mixture. I'm just excited by whatever I and life will bring.

Audition offers have come in from abroad in recent days, and despite having to turn them down due to being unable to afford the costs of travel and accommodation, it has been nice to achieve that small level of recognition simply being offered the opportunity to try out for life changing roles.

I noticed last week it had been exactly a year since I received my offer to take a semester abroad at the Paris Conservatoire. Looking back a year on, it feels like I was a different player and person then, and although I still have work to do, I feel positive with the progress I made, and for me it's the main reminder that actually, I'm a pretty decent oboist when I put my mind to it!

It was pure joy watching so many fantastic final recitals in the last couple of weeks, with such a huge array of repertoire and inspiration gained. I was reminded of how meaningful live performance is, but how I'm going to miss watching people I have grown fond of flourish in their art.

Good for all of you, you deserve to prosper.

I had the pleasure of welcoming Cameron here last week in Manchester for my own recital, and we had a lovely time that I miss already. The day before my recital we winded down with superb hot chocolate from Cocoa Cabana. I then proceeded to have a complete reed crisis where I wrecked my chosen reed and scrambled to find a replacement. By luck of good preparation I had two back ups, and one of them was just about up for doing the job.

My dad and Rachel visited on recital day, which was a definite treat. We roamed the Northern Quarter, visited Ancoats and the divine Pollen bakery, as well as Noi Quattro for sublime pizza. I was a slight nervous wreck at this point, remaining quiet apart from my attempts to calm my breathing. It had been three years since my last recital of this length, so this final assessment after seven years of higher education study was quite the milestone for me.

A peaceful warm up and some last words of encouragement from peers saw me through, and actually, it was a truly enjoyable performance, one that I can be proud of. There were still parts to be improved, but overall I gave it everything I had and utilised everything this Master's has taught me. As a bonus I received some fantastic comments from my tutors, which meant a lot.

And then came freedom! Well, at least temporarily. Cameron and I were joined by his mum and grandma for a spot of lunch in the Northern Quarter and some therapeutic shopping, before I let more recitals inspire me and Cameron and I savoured in immense Gooey cookies.

While on Sunday we spent the day with Cameron's dad and partner Rachael, catching up over a pint and Vietnamese food, on Saturday we had some quality time to ourselves over Federal coffee and cake. It was lovely and I'm looking forward to being back with my boy very soon.

Into this week it was time to turn my attention to job applications, which on Monday felt full on but I have completed what has been necessary and made small gains.

The last few days have followed a similar pattern of small goals achieved and perhaps more importantly, trying to implement better, more enjoyable systems that will mean I can progess more efficiently and enjoy the process that this brings.

Playing for the first time with the St. Cecilia Orchestra in Ripon this weekend was refreshing, with a zingy programme of repertoire ideal for the light nights of summer. The musicians were dedicated and I had the chance to work at my second oboe playing, which is not my strength. However, even on a reed that looked like a dog had sat on it, I did a good job and I am hoping to potentially be back with them in October for an exciting programme of Rachmaninoff.

Rounding off this week is a masterclass with International Visiting Tutor of Oboe at the RNCM, Philippe Tondre. I'm looking forward to putting this week's advancements into practice with some beautiful (hopefully) Mozart and Telemann. But right now, I am off to have a pint (no joke) of Mancoco coffee because that is just what Sundays are made for.

Yes, I know that's pretentious as hell. See ya!

1 note · View note

doodlboy · 3 years

Text

Now you may be wondering: "hey Elliot, did you stay up until 4am playing stardew val-"

YES

#actually i spent a decent portion of my day playing it #aside from chores and stuff i spent most of the day #it is very hard to stop #elliott and maru are my favorites so far #i also now have 8 hearts with elliott so i dont think ill miss the flower dance next year skdhdkd #im struggling tho-#everything is very expensive and i dont have animals yet- should i have animals???#im on day 6 of fall and ive gotten a few of the bundles in the community center done but like- im stuck #bc i have to like- manually water a LOT of crops and it's very time consuming and tiring so im gonna have to figure out how to work that out #i dont really have anything else to post rn so im gonna leave it at that and pass out #g'night y'all #ilysm #take good care of yourselves #love yourselves #dont forget your meds #and drink some water #you're very wonderful and i appreciate your existence #*mwah*#✌💜🌙#pedigree rambles

3 notes · View notes

babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x Stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky x Stark!reader

448 notes · View notes

bbnibini · 3 years

Text

Valentine Chocolates (Demon Brothers)🌸

How will each brother spend Valentine's Day with you?

LUCIFER

If he had the time to worry about a manufactured human world holiday, he would also have the time to put in extra work in his office.

Is genuinely not interested in Valentine's Day and doesn't find anything special about it.

In his opinion, he can show affection for you at any time he wants. He doesn't see the point of reserving it on only one holiday.

But...once you express interest over Valentine's Day, he is willing to understand the holiday in your perspective. Perhaps there was something there that he wasn't able to appreciate yet. Perhaps all that he needed was to see things in YOUR perspective.

Is the type to bring you to a romantic date. Candlelit dinner with a bouquet of his homegrown roses? Wouldn't the sight of you be lovely under a star-littered moonlit night? Away from the cacophony of Lamentation. Away from his duties and obligations. Away from the usual restrictions he forced himself to get used to.

"I think I'm beginning to understand its appeal. Valentines, I mean."

At the right moment and at the right mood, you realised that Lucifer was quite the romantic.

MAMMON

Was going to give you a homemade choco before he sampled his first batch and realised that he may not be the best chef in the world.

Not as bad as a certain human sorcerer...but still.

He'd rather not have you poison yourself on your date.

So despite his better judgment, he bought some chocolate for you...in secret. (plot twist: Everyone already knows, especially you).

You would notice the smug look on his face once he hands his chocolate to you.

"I know, I know. How did I manage to keep this from ya, right? You weren't expecting any chocolate from me, aren't ya, human? I happen to be a generous demon, so I humoured your request. Consider yourself lucky!"

He totally didn't mull over the perfect chocolate to give to you WEEKS in advance or anything.

Those tickets for the planetarium that just so happened to be reserved on Valentine's Day? A mere coincidence! You can turn him down if you want! (He would definitely NOT cry over it for days).

Is probably the demon brother who fussed over the occasion the most, especially since he can use it as an excuse to be more honest with his feelings.

LEVIATHAN

Half-dreading and half-excited about Valentine's.

On one hand, it's a disgusting, man-made holiday by capitalistic society. On the other hand...it's a "flag" for so many "RL events": a chance to raise his affection parameters!

Probably played a ton of dating sims as a point of reference to his chocolate making.

...and is genuinely surprised that chocolate making is SO MUCH MORE than stirring the chocolate in a particular direction.

DOGI MAGI* LIED TO HIM!

You mean the type of chocolate won't also change based on the decoration you put on it? What's his hundreds of hours spent romancing Ruka and Kou in Dogi Magi 3 amount to, then?!

It took him a while, but once he got over the starking difference between 2D and reality, he made a pretty decent batch of kyara-choco that he was able to give to you.

...just don't ask how he had come so far. He didn't want to remember it either.

SATAN

Homemade chocolate all the way.

Probably bought some cat shaped moulds in Akuzon a few days before Valentine's.

Is also the type to buy chocolate a lot earlier than Valentine's itself.

Besides it being usually priced cheaper because of the lesser demand, he also wanted to practise on making the chocolate he would give to you so everything would be "perfect" on the day itself.

He prefers his chocolate semi-sweet. Not too bitter and not too sweet.

Makes them into bite-sized pieces with outer shells that wouldn't melt on your fingers so easily. Perfect for book dates!

ASMODEUS

Is the type who would give you the fancy G*diva chocolates at a famous chocolatier

Probably has some sort of fruit or liquor inside. Either way, it's expensive as hell. Anything cheaper than that would spoil the feelings he wanted to convey in his gift for you.

Money is just money. You, however are priceless and irreplaceable.

Also is the type who would give you candy hearts and cute little notes.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

"You're adorable!"

"I love you, MC! Let's spend Valentines again next year, shall we? ♡"

BEELZEBUB

Made some homemade chocolates with Belphie to give to you on Valentine's Day.

It took a lot of willpower not to gobble up the finished batch, but with Belphie there to watch over him, and the anticipation of your reactions was enough for him to hold back.

Is generous with toppings and decorations. It's almost as if he made twice the normal amount of portions so he could share them with you.

He liked the idea of sharing chocolate with you and Belphie on the day itself, spending time with his important people on the day of love.

There are some people too who he'd love to share a few sweets with, but they aren't there anymore. Which is why...he decided that sharing moments like this with the people he cares about while they're still there matters.

BELPHEGOR

Made some chocolates with Beelzebub. He had expected the huge amount of ingredients they will need so he was able to save some portions for the chocolates he would actually make for you.

Beelzebub gobbling up all the chocolate was enough to keep him awake for the entire chocolate making process.

He wasn't really used to making sweets, so he was quite proud to see how well his first attempts to make some for someone else had been.

The fact that you enjoyed them just as much made him only the happier.

Although...he wondered if the three of you would be able to finish every chocolate in one sitting. Just looking at the sheer amount he and Beel made is making him tired.

...oh well. At least it's an excuse to spend more time with you.

#obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #Obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me demon brothers #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

247 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

a father and daughter

I don't normally hop on the whole dad!tom thing, but this idea kinda popped up and wouldn't leave me alone. Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period and wish you all well in the new year x x x

Summary: Tom really struggles to get into the parenting thing, and finds it tricky balancing work and his relationship with baby daughter

Tom loved being a Dad. It had only been a couple of months, meaning your baby girl was still very much a baby - yet still he had no doubt, this was the best job one could ever ever do. To be honest he was quite regretting agree to the few work commitments he had started to ease back into too. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to go these months without work, which not many had the luxury of saying - but in this industry work agreements were lined up years before and he was never one to disappoint.

Of course, as soon as you both had found out you were expecting, he’d withdrawn from the big filming project across the world but that didn’t mean he avoided the odd week of press, or a couple days flying abroad for fittings and meetings. By absolutely no means would you ever class him as a slightly ‘absent’ dad, you completely understood and when he was home did way more than his fair share with Amelie.

But Tom felt guilty and he felt like he was inferior to you in parenting ability. And you knew that was for one reason and one reason only. He did not have boobs.

You were well aware that as much as you loved Amelie needing you so much and so often - sometimes being the only person able to soother her - was because all she wanted was to drain you of milk. She was clearly going to be a Daddy’s girl, and who could blame her when her Dad was Tom. But for right now, a mere 5 months old - she loved you because she loved your tit.

The first time you had noticed Tom’s growing frustration was right after his first evening work commitment since her arrivel, he’d been on a UK chat show earlier in the evening and as encouraged by you, had taken the opportunity to have a few drinks after with his brothers and friends. By no means did he return late, barely midnight, but he did return just a little tipsy. You were still up choosing to have a little movie night to yourself, whilst Amelie slept in the Moses basket next to the couch. Just before Tom got back though, she had woken up and for no reason was the smiliest little girl. So when Tom let himself into the front door, he was greeted with the sound of Amelie’s little bubbles of laughter, while you spoke in baby language - pulling ridiculous faces and laughing with her.

“Someones smiley” Tom laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arm round your shoulder as he smiled at Amelie.

“Aren’t you Meelie? How was the show love?” You asked, as you held Amelie in a sitting position on your thighs so she was staring at you both.

“Hmm it was nice, couldn’t make myself stay for too long though… just missed my girls.” His voice was a little rough, something that happens after talk show and then almost shouting over the obnoxiously loud music in the pub after. Amelie, laughed again at his words, almost taunting her Dad’s attachment to her, making both of you burst out laughing. She already had you both wrapped round her very little finger.

Shaking your head, you passed her over to Tom muttering needing a wee and made a quick escape. Ever since you had her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her unattended - meaning you had almost made your kidneys explode holding in a wee waiting for Tom to get back. Yet as soon as you made it out the door, the bubbling innocent laughter turned into screams - but at that point you’d already made it out the doorframe - marking that as Tom’s issue to handle. Unfortunately the wails continued, very very loud and proud, and when you returned Tom was pacing slowly around the lounge with a grimace on his face as Amelie screamed into his shoulder.

“I’ll stay up with her if you want.” You offered, knowing Tom without sleep and having to listen to her racket all night would have an impressively worse hangover tomorrow.

“No I got it, think she needs a change.” Tom countered, even though you were pretty sure she wanted a feed, since it had been a good couple of hours from the last. He noticed your hesitance and shooed you out the room “I got it love, you’ve had her all evening.”

“You know where I’ll be” You smiled lightly, leaving them downstairs as you got ready for bed.

It was after about 10 minutes of thrashing about guiltily in your otherwise empty bed, you gave in to the still continuous screaming. Amelie clearly was just hungry, even if Tom refused to admit it and bring her to you. So with a deep sigh you gave in, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and trudged downstairs. Tom was still stood up, taking gentle bouncing steps as Amelie apparently tried to deafen him. Once he saw you, with a defeated look, Tom offered her to you. Instantly, as if you just had the ability to turn the crying switch on her off- Amelie stopped crying and blinked away the tears in her eyes, whilst waiting patiently for you to offer her your nipple. While you were busy trying to get her to latch on, you just caught Tom muttering something as he trudged up to bed without so much as a good night.

Then a couple months later a similar thing occurred. Tom had been away in New York for 5 days, a little press stint that he had under no circumstances been able to get off. At first all had been well but two days since he returned, Tom insisted you finally had an evening out with the girls - to be honest, after spending the best part of a week alone with Meelie you graciously took it. Oh, and also of importance for context, Amelie spoke her first word while he was away… Mama.

You’d left that morning, your best friend taking you on a spa day before - so by the time Tom called you at 11 in the evening, he’d spent a good portion of the day with Amelie vehemently denying to do anything at all apart from yell- yelling “NO MAMA.” So fair to say he was pissed. You answered the phone with a soft smile, honestly finding spending this much time apart from Amelie really hard and guilt-inducing.

“Hey Tom everything okay?”

“Um when do you think you’ll be back?” He spoke straight and to the point, clearly not in the mood for small talk.

“I don’t think too long, is everything alright?” His tone made you so much more concerned, now worrying that something had happened.

“No no everything’s fine. Just… just been a long day.”

“Okay well I’ll be back soon I promise. I love you.”

“Yeh yeh um you too” He didn’t mean to be short. Nor to make you worried. He didn’t hate you - far the opposite, he hated how much Amelie loved you.

If he was being honest, he just felt like a bit of a failure of a father. As a child himself, Tom had always been incredibly close to his mum and thought the typical rule was mummy’s boys and daddy’s girls stood. So why then, did his child appear to absolutely detest him with every look. Especially because, given the nature of his job, once Tom went back to actually shooting films again he’d be around much less - and that the relationship between him and Amelie would at least be geographically strained. Unrequited love is always the worst and ultimately most painful, especially when it involves your own child.

This underlying and unspoken tension fizzled away for a decent amount of months and Tom went on his first job. At this point you were no longer breastfeeding, but still you knew that purely instinctively if Amelie was ever scared, upset or unhappy she would seek you first. It was bloody obvious to you that she did love Tom, she chuckled away like no tommorrow when he played with her and spun her round the room. And yet, you could still tell Tom wasn’t completely convinced and still seemed , just a bit aware and hesitant.

In there ever needed to be any proof though, it must’ve been how stroppy Amelie got once Tom left. In short, for you, it was hell. You ended up constantly wearing Tom’s t-shirts, not for you but because the mild but lingering scent of him seemed to soothe Amelie when she was fussing. She would never giggle like she did when her silly Daddy was here to be her personal comedian. She had, however, finally learnt how to say Dada - which now she was shouting impressively at every point apart from when you tried to film it. She was a little devil, its like she knew exactly what to do to make you life as hard as possible - keeping you dealing with an unhappy Tom. You tried to tell him, when you were on FaceTime each evening - but no matter how many times you promised, it seemed that Tom had a hard time believing you.

He was filming in Germany, which meant it wasn’t actually ‘that’ far from your London home and after two weeks he flew back for a weekend. You were incredibly excited- not just to seeing Tom, which of course you where; but also ,hopefully, for him to feel some sort of assurance in his ability as a parent. He needed to see her, Amelie needed her Daddy and you… you needed a rest.

That evening, you had had her balanced on your hip as you rushed to make the house look somewhat presentable (because single parenting was not easy) but Amelie had thrown a fit so with a slightly immature passive aggressive comment to your 11 month old daughter you put her on her play mat and carried on. It was a bit of a risk if you were quite honest, she was more than just a crawler - she perfected the art of bum shuffling and was starting to on occasion try to stand up. But you were in the same room so surely little harm could come to her in the ‘over-the-top-ly’ baby proofed living room - Tom’s doing of course.

So keeping one eye on Amelie and the other on the almost terrifyingly big stack of discarded toys you set about tidying up. It was all going swimmingly until your thoughts about how on earth you were going to hide all the crap were abruptly interrupted with a garbled screech of “DADA!”

You instantly whipped your head round to watch Amelie stumble and basically throw herself the couple of steps to the doorway where Tom stood. You had absolutely no clue how long he’d been standing there but that was all insignificant watching him sweep you little girl into his arms, before she could career to the floor (headfirst of course). His eyes were bugging out of his head, as she giggled and laughed in his strong grasp before astutely throwing her head into the crook of his neck, demanding to be cuddled by him.

It was almost hilarious, how utterly shocked Tom looked at the real life proof that his baby girl had missed him. Once he met your eyes he used the hand supporting Amelies back to point at her in a questioning manner, making you roll your eyes at just how oblivious and stubborn he is.

“She’s missed her Dad!” You smiled, as you walked toward him and pecked his lips. “You got this down here if I finally get some peace upstairs?”

Because yes, you’d missed your husband and wanted to spend all night wrapped in his arms. But really? There was a more important way the evening should pass, finally Tom getting his moment with Amelie. So without so much as even a ‘how was your flight’ you left the two in the living room - you making a beeline to the bath, for just a moment to yourself.

It was perhaps even a little shocking to yourself that you were so confident you could leave them alone for the evening. Because really, if Amelie started acting up suddenly again, this could be where Tom’s confidence as a dad goes from ‘ropey at best’ to ‘non-existent’. Except you were so certain in the fact that just wouldn’t happen. If she was hungry she’d take the bottle from Tom (which she never did from you without arguement ).

And so you had possible the most relaxing time in the bath - actually alone for the first time in two weeks.

It wasn’t until you quietly walked down the stairs two hours later that you got a bit suspicious of the silence downstairs. Cautiously you peered your head round the doorframe and you didn’t even try to stifle the beaming smile spread across your face. Because there was your husband, lying semi-reclined on the arm of the sofa, his arms wrapped protectively round Amelie who looked incredibly content snuggled up to her dad at last. They were both fast asleep and the sight was just so sweet it actually hurt your heart, meaning only naturally you had sneak a picture of them both. It was infuriating how you knew you had to wake him up - it is a little irresponsible to leave her lying on top of him on the couch and you kinda wanted to cuddle up to Tom this evening too.

So with a gentle touch rubbing and down his right arm it only took a moment or two till he suddenly blinked his eyes open, eyes looking quickly between your eyes and Amelie - his grasp on her had instinctively tightened a little.

“Hey” You whispered softly, watching him notice how calm Amelie looked on his chest.

“Mhmm hey.” His voice was slightly croaky, probably from the exhaustion of two weeks of hard work.

“You guys friends then?” You whispered while combing your ginger nails though Amelies little curls at the base of her neck - she was most deifnetly a Holland.

“She did really miss me?” Tom asked, still half not believing as he shuffled up on the sofa so he was sitting more upright.

“To the point she had me wrapping the pillows in your unwashed t-shirts.” You giggled as his bottom lip pouted into a visible ‘awh’.

“Come on lets get you both to bed.”

Without much complaint, but keeping her in his arms, Tom nodded and followed you up to bed. But that night instead of getting your way and having Tom cuddling you, he pouted until you let him lie Amelie down in the middle of the bed between you two .

But seeing the way he grinned at her in the dark, almost fighting to stay awake as he looked at her, the prospect seemed a lot more attractive.

And that was more than fine by you.

#tomholland #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #happynewyear

332 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

100

Summary: Spencer's an academic researcher who spends every morning at his local library. Derek just happens to drop by one Tuesday and ask the pretty boy in the classics section if he can help him find a book. Sparks fly.

Tags: library au, shy spencer, tooth-rotting fluff, flirting, coming out, spencer does not work at the bau

Pairing: Morgan x Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Read on AO3

Spencer’s working in his favourite corner of the library by 7.35am, stuck straight into his latest research paper while Katherine bustles quietly around the bookshelves, tidying and re-ordering as much as possible before the rush of people pour through the door. She’s probably his favourite opener. She’s calm and efficient and smiles warmly at him but doesn’t engage him in pointless conversation that distracts him from his work, although that’s not to say they haven’t had a few chats here and there. It’s a quiet moment of companionable solitude; the perfect environment for a productive early morning.

He’s vaguely aware of a gradual increase in patrons, the ambient noise level rising ever so slightly as he pours over copies of an obscure ancient philosophical text he’d obtained from the local museum, annotating furiously as he scrunches his brow in concentration. It’s sucked him in enough that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he’s tapped on the shoulder, whirling around to face probably the most attractive man he’s ever met. Immediately, he flushes red, half from the embarrassment of over-reacting, half from the intensity of the urge to jump this man’s bones.

“Hi, I’m sorry I made you jump,” the man chuckles, taking a step back to give him a bit of space. “I can’t find any librarians around and I noticed the philosophy textbook you have on your desk and thought you might be able to help me…” He trails off looking a bit awkward and uncomfortable, clearly out of his element.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Spencer says, a little intimidated but still very eager to spend any amount of time with the Greek god he’s just so happened to encounter on a random Tuesday morning.

“You will?” the man asks, smiling. “Great. Basically my best friend went to an intro to philosophy class at the local community college, one of her many whimsical new projects, and is now obsessed. I was told in no uncertain terms to pick up as many books on the subject as I could before work this morning.”

“Wow,” Spencer breathes a laugh, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Well, I don’t blame her, philosophy is a great subject. I’m working on my fourth PhD in it now, actually.”

“What, you have four PhDs in philosophy?” he asks incredulously.

“No, no,” Spencer smiles, looking down shyly. “My other three are in chemistry, maths, and engineering. This is my first in philosophy. Sorry that was misleading.”

“Looks like I asked the right person, then,” he grins. “I’m Derek.”

“Spencer,” he replies, blushing at the warm look Derek is sending his way. “We’re actually in the classics section, this is just my favourite corner. The philosophy texts are over here.”

He leads the way through the maze of bookshelves, arriving at the little alcove that houses the philosophy and psychology books. With a vague idea of what Derek is looking for, he dives straight into the shelves, combing through the spines until he finds a few options for his friend. “She should probably start with this one: Big Ideas Simply Explained and then move on to Think, which is one of my favourites. This one, How Philosophy Works, will be best if she’s a visual learner instead, and if you want something a bit more complicated, try Philosophy Made Slightly Less Difficult.” He piles on a few extra as he looks around for any he missed before turning around and gesturing that he’s done.

“This is… amazing, thank you,” Derek says gratefully. “I don’t even know why she chose philosophy, it’s a bit random for a computer nerd, isn’t it?”

“Actually about 0.58% of all US college students graduate with a philosophy degree, so it’s not as uncommon as people may think. It’s the 89th most popular major according to last year’s data, but I don’t know the statistics for people with computer science degrees or careers learning about philosophy in an official or unofficial capacity, I’m afraid,” Spencer explains, hands moving expressively as he reels off his statistics.

The mildly impressed expression that’s been pretty permanently painted on Derek’s face the whole time he’s been speaking with Spencer intensifies as he listens intently to his statistics. “Damn, pretty boy, you really know your stuff,” he marvels, eyes wide. “You some sort of genius or something?”

Spencer blushes furiously at that, ducking his head slightly. “Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

“No, that 100% qualifies for genius status,” Derek asserts confidently. “Not that I have any sort of qualification to rule on the matter, but in my eyes you are definitely a genius.”

“Thank you,” Spencer murmurs, blush somehow deepening at the unexpected praise from the man who will now occupy his dreams. “You seem pretty smart, too, though. What do you do?”

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Damn it. As if he couldn’t get any sexier. “Wow, that’s… impressive,” Spencer remarks. “Does your friend work there, too?”

“Yeah, she’s our technical analyst,” Derek explains, smiling fondly. “She’s amazing, you’d love her.”

“Well we’ve already got one shared interest,” Spencer points out, gesturing to the books piled high in Derek’s arms. Spencer would’ve collapsed by now, but he’s barely flinching under the weight of seven bulky philosophy texts.

“That’s true,” Derek grins. “Speaking of work, though, pretty boy, I have to run, I’m already late. Thank you so much for your help, though.”

“No problem,” Spencer says softly, definitely not mournfully, as he watches Derek walk away to the check-out desk where Katherine smiles at him as he scans the books through, sending a discreet wink over at Spencer. He glares back jokingly before walking back over to his desk.

He continues working but he can’t help but feel emptiness sinking heavy in his stomach, the kind of a missed opportunity, of almost, of could have been. Immanuel Kant still gets his attention, but he’d be lying if he said that a decent portion of it wasn’t focused on hoping, praying that his path crosses with Derek again, that he’s not replaying every moment over and over in his mind.

⭐️

Derek is very late. He rushes into the briefing room where Penelope is already explaining the case to the team. Rolling his eyes at her pointed look, he dumps the books down on the table in front of her. “Don’t blame me, baby girl, doing your chores is what made me late,” he protests, taking a seat next to Emily.

“Well, maybe you should have been quicker,” Penelope quips, before promptly moving on with the case at Hotch’s pointed glare.

He barely has a moment to think about anything but double homicide until they’re mid-flight and the debriefing is finally over. Moving to the back of the plane, he looks out the window as he plays over the morning’s trip to the library. Spencer might just be the prettiest boy he’s ever met, and making him blush is probably the most fun he’s had all week. Bonus points for intelligence, of course, even after spending just a few minutes with him, he could confidently say he was a walking encyclopedia.

On the drive from the library to Quantico, he’d thought about finding some ruse to go back the next day. Spencer seemed as though he knew the library well, like he spent a lot of time there. Maybe he could go back and actually ask for his number this time; he was gonna take that boy out on a date if it’s the last thing he does. Now, though, that’s going to have to wait.

“Alright,” Emily sighs, flopping into the seat opposite him and dragging him out of his head, “what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Derek asks reflexively, feeling a little defensive.

“Well you were late this morning, not unusual, but you’re not listening to music and instead choosing to stare pensively out the window. Plus, you barely had anything to contribute during debriefing,” she explains, raising an eyebrow.

“Drop it,” he says, sending her a look, but it’s teasing and light-hearted.

“Oh my God, there’s a girl,” she gasps. “And not just any girl, you like her!”

“There absolutely is not,” he says truthfully, raising an eyebrow. He’s not exactly out to the team, not out of fear of how they’ll react but more because he finds coming out awkward and he’s never found the right time, really.

“Suit yourself,” Emily teases, pulling out her phone to play online scrabble.

Derek just scoffs and looks out the window again, definitely not letting his thoughts wander back to Spencer. Definitely not.

⭐️

Spencer walks into the library the following Monday with low expectations. He’d thought that Derek might come back in last week, if not to see him then maybe to return his friend’s books or find more for her, but his wish had been unsuccessful. Accepting that it was a chance encounter that would ultimately go nowhere, and reminding himself that Spencer Reid’s life was decidedly not like the movies, he unpacks his papers from his messenger bag in his favourite corner again and gets back to work. He’s over the moon with the headway he’s making on his paper, and he settles in for another productive morning of work.

Just like last time, Derek creeps up on him while he’s completely in the zone, slipping into the seat opposite him, but at least Spencer doesn’t jump this time. No, he just feels his face immediately brighten, looking far too excited to see a near-stranger again.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” he grins, laughing fondly at Spencer’s reaction.

“Derek, you came back,” he says happily, putting down his pen.

“Yeah, I had a case immediately after I came to the library last Tuesday and it was a tough one. We only wrapped it up yesterday so I have today off, a rare luxury,” he explains, and Spencer tries not to read into it too much, tries not to think that Derek is saying he would’ve come back sooner if he could, tries to take him at face value.

“The exciting life of an FBI agent.”

“Not as glamorous as the movies,” Derek agrees.

“I’m, uh- glad you came back,” Spencer admits shyly, afraid of coming on too strong.

“Well, would you like to get dinner sometime?” Derek asks.

“Really?” Spencer asks, looking up at Derek with shock written across his face.

“Of course,” Derek chuckles. “I mean, I love Penelope, but if she wants more philosophy books she can get them herself. I came back to see you.”

“You did?” Spencer’s still a little floored by Derek’s words, but slowly a warmth starts to bloom inside him as he realises what’s happening.

“I did,” Derek smiles gently. “Now, about that date. How does tonight sound?”

⭐️

Derek decides on his favourite Italian place to treat Spencer at and his cheeks hurt by the end of the night; he’s pretty sure not one moment went by when he wasn’t smiling fondly at his statistics or stories or blushing. He slips his hand into Spencer’s as they walk out of the restaurant, swinging their arms a bit, directing them down the street towards the 24/7 ice cream parlour.

“I love ice cream,” Spencer grins as they head inside, his cheeks red from the cold winter air and the copious red wine they’d had with dinner.

“Who doesn’t?” Derek asks, leading him up to the counter.

Spencer insists on sampling far too many flavours before deciding on cookies and cream with mint chocolate chip in a cone. He licks at it happily while Derek sits opposite with two scoops of raspberry ripple in a cup and forces himself to think very pure thoughts.

“Thank you for this, Derek,” he beams over his cone.

“Oh, pretty boy,” Derek says fondly. “Thank you.”

Emily spots it the minute he walks into the bullpen the next day. “I’m guessing things are going well with her,” she smirks as she skids over on her chair, grinning wildly.

He sighs as he sits down, looking up at her as he sets his stuff down. “With him, yes,” he confirms, smiling a little.

She raises her eyebrows and pauses for a moment. “Wow, okay, okay,” she says. “Well, I hope I can meet him soon.”

“Might be a bit early for that yet, Em,” he laughs, “but if things go as well as I think they will, that’s definitely on the cards.”

(Five months later, when Spencer finally does meet Emily, she’s as annoying as Derek expects her to be but seeing his boyfriend’s face light up as he gets welcomed in the found family of the BAU is worth every drop of teasing, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.)

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #moreid fic #moreid writing #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #my writing #moreid fluff #criminal minds fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #library au

125 notes · View notes

alitaimagines · 4 years

Text

“so tell me that you love me, yeah, and tell me that I take your breath away. maybe if you take one more then, I would know for sure. there's nothing left to say, tell me that you love me anyway.”

keigo takami / Hawks - MY HERO ACADEMIA

note: so the consensus was Hawks according to DMs! the dabi/bakugou imagine should be up tomorrow!

“Edgeshot, oh my God!” you exclaimed bursting out in laughter, “stop, I’m going to pee my pants!” you continued.

you and Edgeshot had just walked out of the heroes meeting and you plus a few others decided to catch lunch at a restaurant a few doors down. the only two missing were the top two heroes and honestly, you weren’t surprised.

Hawks and Endeavor ever being seen around other pro heroes for such a copious amount of time was odd. Hawks might’ve been a little more predictable but Endeavor was not interested in any of that.

during the time, you and Edgeshot more or less became friends. the very secretive ninja hero and yourself tended to sit together at meetings and lunches so it wasn’t really surprising if the two of you were seen together.

that really didn’t sit well with Hawks.

you had been seeing Hawks for a few months now. it wasn’t really official or anything but between the two of you, there had been very tip top secret meetings. both of you knew each others real names and even spent a few nights together.

being that Hawks was number two and Edgeshot was at number four, he knew about him very well.

however, during meetings or professional lunches, Hawks was always dragged in seven different directions and hardly got time to spend time with you. your time with Edgeshot didn’t go unnoticed by the winged hero.

he seen how close you and Edgeshot were and frankly, he hated it. he knew Edgeshot kept his personal life very private and you being the charming girl you are, he didn’t understand why it had to be YOU that was so close with him. why couldn’t it be Mirko or someone else?

“Edgeshot! ( your hero name )!” you heard paparazzi say, “can we get a picture?” they asked.

your eyes rolled before giving Edgeshot a sympathetic look and hesitantly agreeing. the two of you stood up as Edgeshot grabbed you by the waist and the two of you posed for the seemingly innocent photo.

once they took the photo and scurried away, you sighed, “I fucking hate paparazzi sometimes,” you complained making Miruko laugh, “doesn’t everyone? can’t even have lunch in peace!” she added on.

once you got done with patrol and made your way home, you turned the TV on and dug into your dinner. you had no idea what was playing but once you heard your hero name being brought up, you immediately looked to the television.

“Edgeshot and ( your hero name), getting close, aren’t they?” one of the gossip reporters said, “it isn’t the first time they’ve been seen out together and although this was a group hero lunch, the chemistry, it’s there!”

you growled knowing the paparazzi that took the photo must’ve sold the photo to the tabloids. you watched the photo appear on the screen and noticed how the female reporters squealed over it.

“well her and Mirko are some of the youngest on the top ten charts! it’s obvious they’d have men falling at their feet, especially other heroes.”

you sunk down in your seat before realizing that Mirko was Facetime calling you. you picked it up and seen her laughing at the screen, “are you watching the twelve o’clock news?” you nodded as she continued laughing hysterically, “holy shit, they think you and Edgeshot are together!”

you sighed, “I need alcohol to continue watching this,” you murmured as you walked into your kitchen, “but to the photographers credit, you and Edgeshot really look like a couple!” you immediately shushed her knowing that she was still at her the agency.

Mirko for a quick moment panned to the television and you saw that Hawks was watching it intensely, “it seems that Hawks is even interested! what do you think bird? wouldn’t they look cute together?” she shouted.

Hawks screamed at her to be quiet as she giggled, “clearly her doesn’t think that but seriously, this is funny as fuck! I just wanted to inform you! I’ll see you on Thursday!” she exclaimed before hanging up.

Hawks had messaged you earlier in the day that he was going to come up and visit you for the night but seeing that he was watching the news, he knew about the rumors now surrounding you and Edgeshot so you had no clue if he was or not now.

you put your plate into the sink before going to your room to take off the makeup you had on. your house remained silent for a few minutes before you heard rustling outside of the balcony of your house.

“hey,” you heard a gruff voice say behind you. you turned to see Hawks at the front of the door, “hey Keigo,” you whispered as you tried to wipe the mascara off your eyes.

he made his way in before slamming the door, “I heard the news today,” he muttered as he leaned back against your desk chair, “I think all of the city has. anyone can take it how they want,” you said as he hummed.

the room went quiet before he cleared his throat, “you and Edgeshot look friendly is all,” he inquired as you scoffed, “we’re just friends, you know how Kamihara is. he takes his personal life to the grave,” you responded as he hummed.

“full name basis, huh?” he responded as you finally put the makeup wipe down, “yeah, we are. we’re on first name basis, aren’t we?” you retorted as you walked towards him.

he sighed as he put his head on your shoulder, “but I’m different. I’ve seen more to you than Edgeshot ever has,” he ran his fingers down your arm as you agreed, “true but Edgeshot as far as I know, he thinks of me as just a friend.”

Keigo growled as he started nibbling on your ear, “than I guess that puts me at a higher position, doesn’t it?” he whispered as you hummed, “does it? we haven’t exactly gotten public and you’re making no effort to make it public. if Edgeshot does ask me out in the future, I truthfully can’t tell you I’d say no.”

Keigo looked at you in surprise, “what are you implying then?” he stated as you stood up from his lap, “I’m tired of hiding, that’s what I’m implying. I’m tired of hiding the relationship. I understand the repercussions but who gives a fuck? I don’t but you clearly you do. I’m beginning to think that us hiding around isn’t about the villains but more of the fact that you might lose your fangirls over it.”

his eyes widened at the accusations, “that’s the story you’re using to justify the situation with Edgeshot?” he asked as you nodded, “I’ve wanted to go public for a long time Keigo and if you’re willing to work with me and make it public than fine but if you’re wanting to continue this game of hiding, you can walk out of my house,” you lectured.

the two of you remained looking at each other before he stood up from the chair. he walked to the balcony and gave you one final look before flying away.

you sighed as you felt a single stray tear fall from your face. you knew this conversation had to come eventually but his decision hurt your heart. the fact that he was more willing to keep up his public appearance than to actually make the relationship public broke a piece of your heart but it was Keigo you were talking about.

he cared more about himself than anyone else.

you were off the following day and if you were being truthful, you were glad.

your mind remained on Keigo the entire night and you were honestly ready to tell him off once more but you decided against it and left your phone on the stand as you got up to make your coffee and get back to bed.

after you brushed your teeth and made your coffee, you went back to bed and turned the television on. you were behind on a few episodes of your favorite show and decided to kill them all today.

before you could even turn Hulu on, your tv had the news channel on and heard your hero name again. you sighed and waited to see what new rumor they were planning on having on you.

once they got to the gossip portion of the news, your name was the first thing that came up.

“all the rumors around number four hero Edgeshot and number six hero ( your name ) were false. this morning on the official Instagram of the number two hero, Hawks, he decided to make their relationship public.”

your eyes widened as you yanked your phone from the charger and logged onto his Instagram. true to their word, Hawks had made a public post announcing your relationship.

it was a picture of the two of you in your hero uniforms and giving each other a peck. you knew which day this was but you had no idea he even had this photo of the both of you.

“ignore the rumors, this one is mine.”

you read the caption for what felt like a million times before you seen that Mirko was calling you for the hundredth time. you finally picked up the phone to hear here screaming.

“YOU AND FUCKING BIRD BOY? SINCE WENT?”

you gave off a nervous giggle before explaining the entire situation to her. by the time you finished with the story, she was left in shock as you noticed your now publicized boyfriend standing on your balcony.

you told her a quick goodbye before walking over to the balcony doors and unlocking them. he gave you a nervous look as you sighed.

“seriously Keigo? all that shit last night for you to decided to make it public this morning?” you asked as he chuckled before bringing you into an embrace, “don’t worry, your manager made it public for you too.”

you gave him a look of confusion as you checked your own account. your manager had posted the same photo to your own Insta and he laughed at your reaction.

“God, sometimes I wonder why I love you,” you confessed as he kissed the top of your head, “because you do. now, I skipped a day of patrol for today so you owe me cuddles.”

you sighed as you brought him over to your bed and laid his head on your chest, “shut up and fall asleep. who knows the last time you’ve gotten a decent sleep,” you mentioned as he chuckled.

you placed a kiss on his head this time as you started to play one of the shows you were watching.

ALITA

#bnha #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagine #boku no hero imagine #boku no hero academia x reader #mha #mha imagine #mha x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami imagine #hawks #hawks x reader #bnha hawks imagine

241 notes · View notes

sanktaleksander · 3 years

Note

I didn’t know you did Rick/Shane oh my god can I get an 18 please?

I am sorry this took fucking forever (gotta love when the mean ol’ mental illness factory in my head doesn’t want to do one thing correctly and help me get things done). But I adore you and I hope this isn’t too mushy or OOC for your taste😅 I have precisely one Sharick fic on ao3 and I haven’t written for TWD in quite a while but I sure as hell gave it my best shot. I really hope you like it❤️

Side note: if you see this and sent in a prompt that hasn’t been filled, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you, I am going to do my best to get yours done❤️

Enjoy❤️

Rick/Shane + 18. Playing with hair

“You look like shit, cowboy.”

The glare Shane got in return would have made most people shrink back but Shane Walsh was definitely not most people and Shane knew it was pretty half hearted. He also wasn’t one to mince words and Rick did in fact look like shit. Warmed over shit maybe, but still shit. It had been above ninety for at least the fourth day in a row and the King County sheriff’s office was not known for having the most top of the line cruisers. It may have been late but the heat and humidity in this part of the country did not abate all that much after the sun went down. Rick had also just pulled a twelve hour shift in exchange for a bit more vacation time, which they both were stockpiling for their honeymoon after they got married, so Shane supposed his fiance had a good excuse for looking like a husky that wasn’t adjusting well to life in rural Georgia.

It was approximately midnight and Rick had been gone since noon twelve hours earlier and Shane knew he didn’t have to stay up to wait for Rick to return, they were both used to not always being able to see each other as much as they would have liked, but Shane didn’t mind the odd hours. He was pretty adept at catching cat naps when the need arose.

He came up to offer Rick some iced tea, kept cold until Rick got home. Normally he would’ve gone out and gotten him some iced coffee but it was late and Shane knew the other man wouldn’t want to be hyped up from the caffeine and unable to get some decent sleep. Rick took off his hat and hung it up on the hook by the door, exhaling deeply as he took the glass from Shane and brought it to his lips, drinking a good bit before giving the glass back so he could get out of his boots and unbuckle his duty belt. He was already beginning to feel a bit better, the cool feeling of the air conditioned apartment and the iced tea settling in his belly helping to at least begin to cool off his tired body. Rick didn’t mind taking the longer shift but every time he did he came home reminded that he wasn’t the youngest anymore, though he didn’t exactly consider himself an old man either. But he had one failed marriage and two kids to his name, so he definitely had some milage behind him.

It certainly didn’t seem to bother Shane. His fiance had once just been his best friend, someone he’d known practically since they were born. When you grew up in a small town, you pretty much knew everyone around your age in one way or another, usually going to school with each other, but he’d actually spent most of his childhood and teenage years with Shane by his side. They were practically attached at the hip most of the time. If you found one of them, it was a pretty safe bet that you’d find the other sooner or later. It had been an odd sort of relationship honestly, since both of them differed in several ways. But it worked somehow and Rick trusted Shane more than he trusted a good portion of the people he knew.

But, as they got older and graduated high school, things started to change. Even as they both decided to enroll in the police academy, Rick found himself falling in love with a woman from a neighboring town and starting a family, whereas Shane never really got around to the whole family thing, instead choosing to bed whatever woman he chose, keeping them around for as long as he liked before he felt the need for someone new.

Despite this, they remained close, working together and spending time off together when they could even though his wife had never really liked Shane or even approved of Rick being friends with him. That was the first in a long list of things that his now ex would come to dislike and disagree with.

By the time he had two children and the nice house that he’d always dreamed of having, his relationship with his wife wasn’t something he could easily deal with anymore. He also could not simply act like there was nothing wrong between them, something he had tried to do in favor of starting some sort of disagreement that inevitably turned into an argument. It didn’t help that he was becoming increasingly aware of a part of himself he’d been denying since he was young, practically since he’d been old enough to understand what it meant to care for someone else beyond friendship.

The night Lori left, taking both of the kids with her, Rick had felt like his world, which had already been hanging by a thread, had now well and truly fallen apart right before his eyes and no matter what he’d done to try and keep things together, it just hadn’t been enough.

He couldn’t remember what exactly had brought Shane to his door, if he’d texted him or maybe called him and what he said if he did, but he could recall how Shane had dropped everything to come to his house that felt so empty without his family.

Shane really didn’t have much experience with this type of heartbreak and he tended to not let feelings interfere with his relationships with the women he dated, but that didn’t stop him from trying to do everything he could for his best friend. He ordered them Rick’s favorite takeout and got them some beer, not the cheap shit they usually drank either, springing for a nicer brand. Rick hadn’t felt like drinking all that much and it was hard to enjoy the food, even though it was indeed his favorite, but he could see that Shane was trying. So he sat with him on the living room couch and did his best to at least take a few sips of beer and some bites of food. Shane did most of the talking, which wasn’t unusual in any circumstance, but it did help Rick focus on something else besides how terrible he felt as Shane told him whatever bullshit story he could think of. It was soon getting late, their food now cold. That was fine with Rick, he had lost what little appetite he had and he didn’t much want any more beer either, though he hadn’t really drunk much. As the tv played some movie he didn’t know, he couldn’t help noticing how close Shane was, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his thigh where it was pressed against Rick’s own. He was surprised by how much these simple observations made him ache on the inside and not just because he was missing Lori even though he was sure she wasn’t missing him.

He ignored it as best he could, just like he always did anytime he felt feelings like this rising up inside him. He said something to Shane about it being late, that he was grateful he had come over but he should head home and Rick would try to get some sleep, though he doubted he would do much but toss and turn. It had been quite a long time since he’d slept in a bed alone and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Recalling it afterward, Rick didn’t know if it had been the look on his face or if Shane had planned to say something before that moment. But suddenly there was a warm hand on his thigh and Rick found his heart had started to pound. The hand that was on his thigh moved to trail down the side of his neck before carefully getting him to turn his head so their eyes met. His skin was still tingling when Shane kissed him.

Shane asked him over and over if he wanted to do this, if he was sure that he wanted it for the right reasons because he knew Rick would hate himself afterward for saying yes simply because he was lonely and hurting. But Rick knew it was more than that, that he had wanted this for so long, denying it over and over, even as it became clear that Shane was the one person in his life who had always been there, who never judged him or found things to dislike about him. Shane was his one constant through practically his entire life. He’d been more devoted to Rick than his own wife. He’d been right there the whole time, just like he’d always been, just like he was right then and it had taken Rick this long to finally allow himself to acknowledge what he’d wanted for years.

So much of that night, Rick would never forget, not as long as he lived. He’d never been with someone where every touch felt so good, so perfect and his lack of experience did not deter Shane in the least. If anything, the other man seemed to like it, got off on the fact that he was Rick’s first experience with another guy, that he was getting the opportunity to teach Rick some of his many tricks.

Even years later, Rick could still hear Shane’s deep, rumbling voice in his ear, begging to be fucked, telling him he knew how badly Rick wanted this, could see it so clearly on his face. Rick hadn’t ever expected Shane to ask for that, to trust him enough to do that, but it ended up being better than anything he could’ve imagined. Seeing the look of utter bliss on Shane’s face when he came, hearing him moan like that and call Rick’s name was definitely something he thought about for weeks after and still did on occasion even now.

When he woke up the next morning with his head tucked under Shane’s chin, the other man sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped almost protectively around Rick as they lay cocooned under the blankets, Rick knew that this was how things were supposed to be, how they should’ve been all along. He’d spent years with his wife and not once had he felt this good after they’d slept together, so relaxed and simply happy. And she had never looked so pleased to see him when she woke up, not the way Shane had. Those brown eyes lit up as soon as he’d woken enough to remember what they’d done and realize Rick was still in the same place he had been when they’d fallen asleep. They spent the morning sharing quiet kisses, though considering who he was in bed with, Rick wasn’t surprised when the kisses soon became a lot more.

They’d spent a lot of mornings like that since then and a lot of nights like that too. Shane was definitely somebody who, no matter how old he got, was always interested in anything to do with sex. He also looked ten years younger than he actually was though, so Rick supposed it made some sort of sense. After they’d gotten together that first time, Rick had wondered on more than one occasion if Shane would get tired of him eventually, just like he had with basically every woman Rick had ever known him to be with. They would be around for so long and then Shane would grow bored and break up with her, ending up with another girl sooner or later. They were still here though and Shane hadn’t strayed, always coming home to Rick every day and more than happy about it.

Rick hadn’t known that Shane often slept with guys back then, though he made sure each was more a one night stand sort of thing or sometimes friends with benefits. He’d never been able to allow himself to been seen in their small town with another man on his arm, no matter if he’d found a guy he actually was into for more than just sex. He’d also hoped Rick would want him one day, though it had seemed less and less likely. He’d felt like that night Lori left had been his last chance at showing Rick he wanted him, that he could be what the other man needed and he wasn’t about to throw that away. Maybe that was why Shane never got tired, why someone who had been known for his promiscuous ways for so long was genuinely happy about getting married. He got to have the man he’d always wanted every day and of course he wanted that for the rest of his life. Marrying Rick just made sense.

Rick was pulled from his thoughts by Shane coming back up to him, slipping his strong arms around Rick’s waist and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you miss me, sweetheart? Or did you miss the air conditioning more?” He teased, a small smile playing on his lips.

Rick chuckled softly, “I’m definitely happy to be home, but not just because of the A/C.” He relaxed just a bit more when Shane leaned to kiss him, allowing him to shed a bit more of the day’s troubles and just focus on the fact that he was home and Shane was home with him and he didn’t have to think too hard about much else for a while.

“How about you go and take a shower? Maybe we can have a little midnight snack after, yeah?” The younger man asked when they parted, Shane’s hand combing up to smooth Rick’s curls back.

“That sounds nice, but I think I’d be happier if you joined me.” Rick offered, pressing another kiss to Shane’s mouth.

Shane openly grinned at that. “Yeah? Are we thinking about a little more than just getting clean, sheriff?”

Rick chuckled, “Maybe. Why don’t we find out?”

Shane more than happily pulled Rick through the house and into the bathroom off their bedroom. They traded kisses as clothes came off and the water was turned on so it could heat up. Shane made sure it was warm but not too warm, knowing Rick was probably still a little overheated from his long shift.

Rick exhaled deeply once they were finally under the warm spray, grateful when the water began to help loosen some of the knots and tension he was carrying in his tired muscles. He practically melted when Shane pressed up against his back, sliding his arms around his waist. The other man’s lips kissed over his shoulder and along his neck. Rick hummed softly when Shane nipped at his ear, “Does this mean you missed me too then, huh?”

“I always miss you, sweetheart. There’s nothing better than getting to be around you, to feel your body against mine, to feel you inside me…” Shane chuckled, kissing the back of Rick’s neck. “And as much as you play the well mannered, straight laced southern boy around everyone else, you and I both know that you’re just as dirty as I am.” He was not subtle as he ground his hips into Rick’s ass, letting his partner know exactly what was on his mind if his words hadn’t been enough of an indication.

As tired as Rick was, he was still very much interested in what Shane was offering. Just hearing the other man talk like that and feeling his growing erection grinding against his ass had Rick’s own body becoming excited. He may have had a long and rather exhausting day, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find the energy to take care of his fiance. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to either, not when Shane was involved. He was always in the mood when it came to Shane.

Rick quickly turned, catching Shane’s mouth with his own. He couldn’t help noting the pleased expression on Shane’s face when he was manhandled into place. The other man exhaled softly when Rick slipped his arms around him, soon followed by a deep moan as Rick pressed inside him.

There was nothing better than hearing Shane like this, hearing how much he enjoyed every time they were together. He was definitely the more vocal of the two of them, not at all afraid of letting Rick know he was feeling good and that his lover knew how to turn him on and get him off. Not that Shane himself didn’t deserve some of the credit, he always knew how to get Rick in the mood and make sure they both enjoyed themselves. Soon Rick had switched their positions so he could kiss Shane properly while they fucked, holding him as close as possible as they rested against the wall, not wanting an inch of space between them. It wasn’t long before Shane fell apart, nails digging into Rick’s back as he begged his partner to cum inside him. Rick was more than happy to give Shane what he wanted, kissing him hard as he rode out his orgasm.

Rick’s brain was pleasantly quiet and fuzzy afterward and he leaned into Shane as they cleaned up, letting his fingertips trace over the tattoo on the other man’s chest until they were running out of hot water and reasons to stay in the shower. Shane had been nice enough to pull out some clothes for the both of them to change into once they were out and dry. The softness of his favorite pair of sweats and one of Shane’s old shirts that still smelled like him made Rick feel cozy, especially when Shane tugged him into their bedroom and invited him onto the bed.

The lights were dimmed down to a soft glow and Rick soon found himself laid out against the pillows, Shane pressed to his side, the other man’s head resting on his chest. Rick reached up to let his fingers card through Shane’s hair. He’d let it grow out recently and it was beginning to curl. Rick let his eyes close, getting lost in the feeling of Shane’s curls slipping through his fingers and the comforting weight of the other man’s body resting against his own. He’d spent so much of his life trying his best to make everyone around him happy, trying to be what everyone else expected when this is all he really wanted, quiet moments like this with someone he knew really loved him. He still felt a little guilty that he hadn’t realized Shane’s feelings sooner, that he’d spent so much time denying himself when he could’ve been happy with the person he should’ve been with all along. But he was grateful for what he had now, that things were finally falling into place and he had found some modicum of peace within himself.

Shane shifted, worming his way in closer, tucking his head under Rick’s chin. He hummed softly, tipping his head up to kiss Rick’s jaw. “You know I can’t wait to marry you, sweetheart? I can’t wait for you to make a proper woman outta me.” He chuckled, leaning into Rick’s touch. Before Rick, moments like this with the people he’d been with had never felt quite right, never made him truly happy. But this, something as simple as holding Rick close and enjoying the affection the other man gave him, this felt right in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It definitely felt like he was meant to be here, that this was where he’d always belonged.

Rick let out a soft laugh and Shane noticed the warm smile on his tired features as he reached over the other man to turn out the lights. When Shane laid back down, Rick turned and kissed his head, fingers still playing with those soft curls. “Promise me you won’t kick me to the curb when I’m old and gray while you still look half your age?”

Shane couldn’t resist lifting his head to kiss Rick properly. “Never. You’re stuck with me for good, old man. I’ll still be bitching about those cowboy boots of yours when we’re both in the grave.”

Rick returned the kiss, allowing it to linger. “As long as I’m with the love of my life for the rest of my life, I’ll be content.”

It was Shane’s turn to smile. “You’re turning soft on me. That’s okay though, I love you, no matter how soft you are on the inside. My big tough sheriff husband with the heart of gold.”

Rick rolled his eyes a bit, as much as he could manage with sleep rapidly pulling him closer. He turned on his side, wiggling his way into Shane’s warm embrace. The other man was practically a space heater no matter the season. Combined with the feeling of the blankets Shane pulled over them contrasting with the cool air in the room around them thanks to the A/C, Rick couldn’t have felt more at ease.

“Goodnight, love.” Rick murmured, already drifting off.

Shane hummed softly, slipping an arm to wrap around Rick’s waist to keep him close. “Sleep tight, cowboy.”

#i seriously hope you like this #its 1 am but at least its done and i dont totally hate it #sharick #rick grimes x shane walsh #twd #the walking dead #rick grimes #shane walsh #my writing

29 notes · View notes

dragonflymage · 3 years

Link

(This has taken me forever to write. Be prepared for a long answer! *kicks it out of the draft box*)

I don’t think I’ll choose a Type for this answer because I chose Types in similar questions. This time I’ll go with the word “ideal” and play with that for a while.

This answer will be about the steps to finding an ideal match. INFP style.

Everyone knows that INFPs are the dreamers. They dream their way through being a child, through the teen years, and yes right through adulthood. It’s unavoidable. If a potential situation creeps up on an INFP, it won’t be long before they have come up with all the imaginative ways to live it and make it their own. Within their minds.

I am going to reveal some things about myself as an INFP that aren’t easy to reveal. Tapping into this realm of idealism that INFPs seem to be known for.

What exactly does it mean when someone says that INFPs are idealistic? It’s more than just seeing the good in others and hoping for a bright future. There’s a side of darkness within it as well because this doesn’t always mean ‘realistic’. It can mean searching for qualities that only exist in our thoughts.

My topic within these imaginative daydreams will focus on “The Ideal Match”.

I have to say that the first sensation that comes to me while thinking of this topic is… wistfulness.

In my expansive INFP imagination, my ideal match is someone who wants to know me.

That’s it.

Okay, that’s not all, but that’s where it begins. With someone who has SEEN me. And not just seen me, but moved closer instead of shaking their head and walking away. Of course, that doesn’t make an automatic match, but it has to begin somewhere.

Can you imagine the elation of being truly seen? That tiny ray of INFP light shown outward has caught someone’s attention. What should be done now? It isn’t love yet. Right? This elation isn’t love. But what if it is? No, it’s much too soon. Maybe if the door is opened a little bit more. … What are they doing now? Running? Moving even closer? OMG. What should I do next?!

Breathe. This doesn’t mean they are devoting all of their eternity. It just means they are curious. Stay calm.

Does that sound like panic? It might be. There’s always the fear of doing too much too soon, yet wanting to reach out and touch. The unseen internal tug of war.

So, this is where the INFP stands now — Revealed some of their deep self and was noticed for it. Then the person stuck around wanting to know more.

This is a great beginning. But what’s next? It would probably be easier to know what to do if this took place in-person. Body language and tone of voice is clearer to decipher. Most likely this all happened online, where emotions and reactions can be filtered through the process I refer to as: “I’m doing my freakin’ best to explain myself with only text!” *flails*

I would say that being seen and someone wanting to get to know you are where new friendships and possible future-relationships reside.

Being seen is nice, but being understood is even better!

It looks like a connection is forming. This is where our INFP will decide what sort of sharing is appropriate.

There are all sorts of sharing:

💙 Surface sharing - which involves interests and everyday activities. Also known as “small talk”. Topics such as pets, job or school, hobbies, books, etc. This isn’t always an INFP favorite, but conversations have to begin somewhere. During the small-talk phase, an INFP will determine whether there is potential for a connection. And, yes, an INFP is more than capable of this discovery just from small talk. This could last for a brief time period or for many days, depending on the person’s comfort level. 💙 Test sharing - which involves emotions attached to topics. Such as the meanings behind this or that event in life. It could be another subtle test to see if the other person is still interested in talking. Or it could be a bit of desperation to have someone to finally discuss the deeper aspects of the world. Some of these emotion-laden topics might not be used by most people until later in a potential friendship-relationship, but INFPs may reach this level of conversation fairly quickly. This type of conversation could continue throughout the friendship-relationship, obviously while no longer in a ‘testing’ fashion. 💙 Personal sharing - which involves longer and more frequent conversations. It’s a bit like sharing your life in ‘real-time’. At this point, the INFP has decided this is someone who is interested because they haven’t run away, and maybe it’s okay to invest more of ourselves with them. These sorts of talks are like inviting them to our home and giving them a glimpse of what life is like for us. These discussions are saved for close friends and potential love interests. 💙 Deep sharing - which involves all those things an INFP shares with no one. And by ‘no one’ I mean ‘a rare and special someone’. I think many INFPs have an inner vault where they keep all the topics that have been too much for other people to handle - such as traumatic memories. Some INFPs, after being rejected in the past, may choose to never touch this level with anyone again. Other INFPs may decide that if this special person can understand what’s in the vault, then they are absolutely ‘the one’. Whether as a love interest or a very close friend.

🍵 There could also be a level 5 which may involve fantasies or the darkest of secrets they may never tell anyone, but some INFPs might lump those in with #4. It depends on the individual. 🍵

The difficulty with those Sharing Levels is finding an order that works and sticking to it. It wouldn’t work well to start with #1 Small Talk and then skip right to #4 Deep Sharing. (I mean, unless you’re talking with a therapist, then go ahead.)

Now that I got the informative portion out of the way, it’s time for some INFP idealism!!

INFPs are amazing humans. We care with our every breath and we want the best for those around us. We can also become stuck within our idealistic thoughts. No, that isn’t a secret.

We are called The Dreamers for a reason.

INFPs have a difficult time with this strange thing called Reality. We are flooded with violence from the media, and sometimes it exists in our personal lives. Reminding us of all the hurting souls we can’t help. We have potent plans of how we will change the world. Then Reality sneaks up from behind and whispers “you do realize no matter how hard you try, you can’t save them all…” Thanks, Reality.

It’s these realizations that can infiltrate all aspects of life - how we envision our future, how we envision our environment, and how we envision our Ideal Match or our Ideal Partner (in a potentially romantic sense).

I first started imagining a ‘love interest’ at around age 12. It wasn’t marriage or white gowns that I imagined. It was someone who cared by listening to me.

One of the first crushes in a love-interest way I had on a person (other than classmates I mentioned in a different answer) was Hawkeye from the MASH re-runs. ( I don’t know what it is about me and ENFPs, but anyway… I spent long hours daydreaming about somehow being illogically inserted into that environment just so I could sit and have long conversations with Hawkeye. 😅 I thought he was the perfect match for me. Of course, he had other issues going on, but I was willing to overlook them all! This daydream went on for a few years until I moved along to other potential unreachable love interests.

The important factor about the idealism and daydreaming is that I was internally forming a list of what I hoped to find in a future partner.

Attention and caring were important. Kindness to others. Devotion to helping people. Silly humor. Depth of character. Capable of understanding pain. Willing to imagine what could be.

Sadly, if an INFP isn’t paying attention, they can idealize themselves through life…even through the most painful events and can become addicted to this coping mechanism.

Like I did.

The downside was that since I never truly encountered a great deal of decent treatment personally, I didn’t know how to recognize it in others. It was unfamiliar territory (for many depressing reasons). So in my early 20s, what I did was latch onto a person who I thought had the potential and idealized everything else about him. He gave me attention, sure, but I think I consciously idealized everything else about him. Even when there were many clues that he wasn’t a good match for me.

I rejected every natural instinct I had and encompassed myself in flowery daydreams in order to survive the life I’d suddenly found myself in.

That is probably an extreme example of what idealism can do to a person. But I think that INFPs have the very real probability of slipping into this unhealthy internal mindset.

If we aren’t careful, idealism can turn into an INFP mind-trap.

I don’t want to turn this into a negative answer. Idealism has wonderful benefits if used in healthy creative ways. To imagine what could be. But there also needs to be a balance with Realistic thoughts.

Always stop and ask yourself “Is this truly a possibility? Is this actually what is taking place? Am I somehow coloring the truth from myself?”

Only then will an INFP truly find, not just an Ideal Match, but a True Match.

Without any of the rose-colored glasses interfering with what is Real.

#mbti #infp #infp thoughts #relationships #mbti thoughts #introvert #myers-briggs #hsp #emotions #emotional #sensitivity

20 notes · View notes

nikibogwater · 3 years

Text

The Norse Chaos Chronicles: Chapter Four--In which by some Easter miracle, the Incompetent Vikings defeat the Elder

Been a few days since my last update in regards to Team Bogwater’s exploits in the world of Valheim. This is mostly because we actually had a couple of play sessions that were relatively calm.

We actually did manage to expand to the Black Forest across the sea and set up a functioning base there, where we lived in somewhat cramped quarters for a while until we had gathered enough minerals to enter the Bronze Age (and by cramped, I mean all three of us were crammed into what was basically a single king-sized bed because we failed to make the house big enough to accommodate a reasonable amount of space between each of our beds--clearly some home renovations are in order).

I, being a very kind and responsible sister, spent some time on the server by myself making our base more secure with Stake Walls, setting up a sufficient space for storage, and gathering food, all tasks that the others didn’t seem too excited to take care of. I was expecting the boys to notice and at least tell me that my additions were helpful.

I know for a fact that they at least noticed, because when I joined them for this most recent play session, Gustav had decided that what our base needed now was a spike pit around the front gate, which I know wouldn’t have occurred to him if I hadn’t put up the spiky walls. I was never told that my additions were helpful or appreciated, but considering that there were far fewer deaths happening close to our base, I suspect they were nonetheless.

Niki: ...Is....Do we really need the spike trap? Like, is it necessary? Gustav: How could you even ask something like that?! I have never been more upset in my life. Niki: It’s just...like, there’s a bridge that goes right over it. Gustav: Yeah. So we can get across it. Niki: Right but so could the Greydwarves. Gustav: Greydwarves aren’t that smart. (20 minutes later) Gustav, trying and failing to shove a Greydwarf into the pit: You guys, I may have overestimated how unintelligent Greydwarves are.

Gustav got exactly one (1) Greydwarf to fall into the pit and die. The only other thing he caught was Tripe.

Okay, well, he did manage to get a Troll to walk into the spikes, but then it just smashed them all to pieces. It was at this point that Gustav finally accepted the reality of the fact that a spike pit was completely useless to us in this particular area.

Gustav, filling in the pit with rocks: Man, why didn’t one of you guys warn me that the spike trap was a dumb idea? Niki and Tripe: Yeah, that was our bad. 🙄 (10 minutes later) Niki, just peacefully mining copper in the forest: Wait, so where did the Troll go- *gets slammed by the Troll before I can even finish voicing the question* GUSTAV, WHY DIDN’T YOU KILL IT?!

Tripe and Gustav upgraded to Bronze Gear and Troll Hide (I brought mine over from my single player world to save time and resources). I was still trying to gather up enough Bronze to make a Cultivator so we could eat something other than Cooked Meat and Queen’s Jam, when suddenly I was informed that we were getting into a boat (we upgraded from the raft, finally) and going to kill the Elder.

Tripe: Get in losers, we’re going to kill the next boss. Gustav: *jumps in without any hesitation* Niki: Wait what?! That’s a terrible idea! (5 minutes later) Niki, sulking in the front of the boat: Did I mention this is a really bad idea? Gustav and Tripe: It’s fine. How bad can it possibly be?

Horrible. Absolutely horrible. That’s how bad it was.

We had rather unlucky RNG with our world generation, and the Elder’s altar was a good 1,000 miles away from us. Which meant a significant portion of this play session was actually just sitting in the boat and watching the scenery pass.

It sounds like a pleasant time, but I was absolutely terrified the whole way there.

Gustav: ...Oh hey, we discovered the ocean. Niki, who has seen videos of Sea Serpents absolutely wrecking well-equipped players: BACK TO THE SHORE. GO BACK. DO NOT MOVE INTO OPEN WATERS. GUSTAV, FOR THE LOVE, GO BACK TO THE SHORELINE! (Passing a Plains biome) Niki: ...Did you guys know there are one-hit death bugs in the Plains Gustav and Tripe: Will you please calm down

We happened to run across Haldur the merchant shortly before reaching our destination. Since Valheim doesn’t tie your inventory to individual worlds, I went ahead and bought a few things to bring back to my single-player world (namely the fishing gear). I hopped off the server for a minute to transfer the items, and while I was in my world, I grabbed some extra food (the boys are terrible about keeping food in their inventories) and, since I figured we’d need all the help we could get, grabbed a few jugs of mead without really paying attention to what effects they gave.

When I came back into the server, Tripe and Gustav were setting up our temporary base so we could reset our spawn points. Right. Smack. Dab. Next to the altar. As in, when the Elder spawned, he was going to basically be standing directly on top of it.

Niki: ...You guys that seems like a poorly-conceived plan. Gustav and Tripe: No, it’s fine. Stop worrying.

At this point, I was pretty resigned to the disaster that was inevitably going to unfold, so I just grabbed some wood and set up my own shack a decent ways away without making any further attempts to convince the other two.

Gustav: Niki, where are you? We’re all ready. Niki: I just...I’ll be there in a minute, hold on. Tripe: What are you doing? Niki: ...I’m building a house. Gustav: YOU ARE BUILDING YOUR OWN HOUSE WHEN WE HAVE A PERFECTLY GOOD ONE RIGHT HERE?! RUDE! Niki: I DON’T WANNA RESPAWN AND THEN JUST IMMEDIATELY BE SQUISHED AGAIN, ALRIGHT?!

Houses built and weapons readied, we all gathered at the altar. I chucked the Ancient Seeds into the flame and immediately booked it out of the vicinity as fast as my meaty Vikings legs could carry me, frantically downing a jug of mead as I went. The Elder spawned in and within seconds, absolute carnage reigned supreme.

Gustav died within the first two minutes and spent the next ten trying to make it back to his grave. Which he couldn’t really do because his respawn point was right next to the Elder, and emerging from the house naked of all armor and gear was basically an instant death sentence.

Gustav: I’ve died six times trying to get my gear back. We really shouldn’t have built the house this close to the altar. Niki, why didn’t you warn us? Niki, fleeing from the massive thorny vines that the Elder is trying to impale her on: I hate you guys so much right now.

I was hanging back as much as I could, dealing damage with my Finewood Bow, but the Elder has a huge range of attack, and it had me down to single digits in health within less than a minute. And it was at this point that I realized I had majorly screwed up.

The mead that I had been frantically chugging in hopes of gaining better health regen? It was actually slowing my health regen and only increasing my stamina.

Niki: YOU GUYS THE MEAD WAS A MISTAKE. OH MY GOSH, IT’S MINUS FIFTY HEALTH REGEN, NOT PLUS! OH CRAP CRAP CRAP--I’M LITERALLY SLOSHED OVER HERE! Gustav: WAIT, NIKI CAME INTO THIS FIGHT DRUNK?! Niki: I DIDN’T NOTICE THE MINUS SIGN!!!! *yeets the rest of the mead into the ocean before meeting my first demise at the hands of the Elder*

Miraculously, I only died twice during the fight (again, mostly because my respawn point was away from the altar, meaning I had a clearer path back to my graves when I respawned). I have no idea how many times the other two died. Towards the end we were also being bombarded by hoards of Greydwarves, which only made things ten times worse.

Gustav: Have either of you seen my corpse? I mean, I have several lying around here at this point.

I don’t even know how we managed it, but we did finally take out the Elder and received our Swamp Keys. We all stood around the scene of destruction for a minute, just kind of collecting ourselves.

Tripe: ...I feel like that could’ve gone better. Gustav: Yeah. It’s just, Niki goes and does all this research and watches videos and then she doesn’t bother to tell us not to put our house so close to the- Niki: *punches him*

The trip home was blessedly uneventful. Tripe did decide to cut across the ocean instead of following the shoreline in order to save time. I was 90% certain we were all going to be eaten by a Serpent, but we were fine.

We made it back to our camp only to find a Greydwarf Shaman mucking around in our front yard.

Gustav: What is he--is he barfing on our house...? NO, HE’S SMASHING THE CART! OH YOU SON OF A-- *takes a flying leap out of the boat and tears through the shallows, furiously waving his spear*

The Shaman poisoned Tripe, who had a mild panic attack because his respawn point was still back at the Elder’s Altar, and if he died now he would have to walk all the way back here.

Tripe, with 1 HP left: NO I’M NOT DYING LIKE THIS! *dives headfirst into the nearest bed*

So yes. That is what I was doing this weekend, in case any of you were wondering where I disappeared to. I am hoping to spend some time working on ToA stuff today, but I again, I think it is important to record these events for posterity...and perhaps as a cautionary tale for others.

#niki rambles #gaming #valheim

9 notes · View notes

callmeelle22 · 3 years

Text

Snow

Gifted to @dameintoyland for the Flash Holiday Gift Exchange @theflashholidaysgiftexchange

Pairing: Barry Allen x Iris West

Word Count: 5912

Rating: M

Summary: Softly falling snow, spiked hot chocolate, and some light smut for the holiday season.

I want a snowfall kind of love, the kind of love that quiets the world.

When the snow starts, Barry recognizes how ridiculous it was to decide to walk to the store in the middle of the night. But, in the end, he’s sure it had been worth it.

It’d been because of a mere case of insomnia, that and the gnawing need for sustenance. A look into his refrigerator had revealed only a carton of expired eggs, an empty jug of orange juice, and a ridiculous amount of condiment bottles, so he’d stuffed his socked feet into a pair of sneakers, zipped himself into a coat, and jammed a beanie on top of his head before he’d ventured out into the cold.

When the snow starts, he’s only a few minutes into the fifteen minute walk to the grocery store. His collar is pulled up and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants as he takes cursory glances at the world around him. The snow is just flurries, tiny drops that appear more like rain before it hits the ground, but Barry knows how picturesque this place will look when the snow gets going in earnest. The little neighborhood he lives in, one they’re calling the arts district, is filled with tiny shops owned by rich women and their Etsy jewelry, restaurants where the food speaks, murals painted on every single building that depicts a sort of effortless diversity that isn’t actually true for the area. That’s even more notable when he looks at all of the Christmas decorations in the windows of the shops, sparkling garland wrapped around every available column, bright green wreaths chock-full of shiny gold ornaments, brilliant red bows on door handles and lamp posts. It’s all been up, much to Barry’s chagrin, since the season apparently started on November 1st, and it’s why he’s survived on work, take-out, and The West Wing since.

He curses his own absurdity as he enters the small grocery store and picks up an arm cart with a half frozen hand. The store is one of those small ones, the ones that sell mostly single serving portions at regular prices, the store’s bright lights and gleaming floors convincing customers it’s worth paying five dollars for a half a carton of eggs. They’ve been bit by the Christmas bug too, a song he doesn’t know, I want a snowfall kind of love, that lights up the sky from below; I want a snowfall kind of love, that brings people to their window, playing in the background. They’ve managed to plop a tree smack dab in the middle of the store and the aisles are full of what he’s sure the manager thinks are only subtle odes to this godforsaken holiday.

He tries to be quick, to hurry home before he has to start sliding through the snow. He throws a loaf of bread into his cart, some cheese and eggs, packages of bacon and deli ham. He remembers that they’ve got a pretty decent frozen pizza section too, so he grabs a couple of those, trying not to focus on the fact that he’s 27 and lonely and still eating like he did when he was in undergrad—and let’s be honest, in grad school too. He rounds another corner to decide on a six-pack, or two, of beer. And that’s when he sees her.

She’s a petite thing, shorter than she normally looks when Barry sees her hightailing it from the apartment across from his, in pencil skirts and shoes with heels like spikes. Her hair usually falls straight against her shoulder blades, soft looking and shiny, and he’s only ever seen her mouth painted in shades of purple and red. Tonight, this morning, she’s as dressed down as he’s ever seen her. She's only in a pair of gray leggings, a tight white t-shirt that cups her firm chest, a faux fur-lined coat thrown over it. Her hair is in a curly wavy style that falls right at her shoulders, and he likes it, how soft and sweet it makes her look.

When he sees her in the mornings, as she’s leaving their building, it makes him a little tongue-tied, especially when she’s in those tucked in blouses that show off the deep curve of her waist. The look of her like this, though, makes Barry wonder what it feels like to have heart palpitations and if he’s having them.

He’s watching her, probably a little creepily, and so when she turns, she catches her eyes. Now, Barry really can’t breathe. Her face is improbably pretty: deep ochre skin, dark chocolate eyes, a full pouty mouth that calls for his attention as she bites at the bottom one. He thinks, for a moment, of what it might be like to be beside her, naked, her lovely brown skin next to his paler body, her small, soft hands laced in his. He wonders, in the same moment, what it might be like to kiss her—her mouth, the soft heat between her legs—her long-lashed eyes closed in ecstasy. It paints a pretty vivid picture and Barry is sure he loses a bit of time.

“Oh, I know you,” she says, a hint of passion in her voice.

Barry blinks, looks behind him at the freezer full of overpriced beer, and then back to where there’s more than a hint of a smirk on her face.

“You mean me?”

“Yeah. You’re the one with the lab coat.”

Barry would like to note that as long as she’s been living across from him, a few months now, he’s been hoping for glimpses of her each time he’s left his own apartment. It’s a bit astonishing to know that she’s noticed him too.

“I, uh, yeah,” he mumbles, reaching up the rub at the back of his head. “I, I wear a lab coat.”

“Nice,” she says, and there’s some honey in the way she says the word, the way it drips down off her tongue.

Barry tilts his head, a bit incredulous. “Lab coats get you off?”

It isn’t what he meant to say, but her grin gets wider and there’s no doubt that Barry’s face goes bright red.

“I didn’t mean…” he starts, but the words get stuck.

She doesn’t seem offended. If anything, her grin gets wider, turns dirtier, and she winks at him as she starts to push her cart away. “See ya, lab coat.

“Wait,” he calls, and she turns, neatly shaped eyebrows raised.

“It's, uh, it's Barry, Barry Allen," he manages to get out.

“I'm Iris West," she tells him. And then she—and Barry admits he could be hallucinating, admits that he might be high off the scent of her, of shea and coconut—gives him a slow, long look over, taking in the length of his legs and his slim torso, his broad shoulders. She lingers, in a few places he’s sure, at his crotch and somewhere around his throat, and then she's looking at his face again. She licks her lips. "I'll see you around, Barry Allen."

That should be it, Barry thinks, as she leaves the aisle and he presses as much of himself against the cold freezer glass as he can. Good lord. But then Barry pays for his food with the scowling person they’ve convinced to work the night shift at a 24 hour grocery store, and then he’s walking out of the store, clutching his purchases, prepared to make his way back home. And then Iris West is calling out for him, her car idling at the corner beside him.

“Just taking a late night stroll?” she wonders.

He licks at his lips where they've suddenly gone dry. "Yeah. I got hungry and there wasn't any food in my apartment."

“So you thought a quick walk in the snow would do it?"

Were it anyone else, he thinks he might have been annoyed at her for goading him. But she's pretty and he likes the way her dark eyes sparkle with mirth, and something a bit deeper, darker, when she looks at him.

“I feel like you're judging me," he says, his own mouth quirking up.

“Of course I am." She pauses as she turns back into the car. She seems to be moving things around. “Get in, Barry Allen."

They don’t make much conversation on the short ride to their apartment building. The night is quiet on the empty streets, made quieter by the radio turned off and only the hum of the heater as noise. He wants to talk, but he doesn’t know what to say, or if she even wants to speak, so he let’s the ride soothe him. It reminds him of time spent with his parents, years ago. He’d always had trouble sleeping, a condition that has no true origins. But, sometimes, when he couldn’t get to sleep and he’d started to get grumpy because of it, his parents would bundle him up, sit him in the back of the car, and drive around until easy listening jazz and soft falling snow had lulled him to sleep. It’s one of many memories of his family, of the parents he’d lost when he’d been old enough to register their absence. He tries to keep them at bay, those memories that could turn overwhelming and crippling were he to let it.

Christmas doesn’t help. They’d been big Christmas people, spending the Friday after Thanksgiving picking out a tree and dusting off ornaments that had been sitting in the attic for the year, baking cookies as they let him throw tinsel everywhere. The last year he'd had with them, when he was seven years old and had just begun wearing those hideous coke-bottle top glasses, had been the biggest one yet. He'd been allowed to do more: actually pick the Christmas tree, carefully put the cookies in the oven, write out the full thank you for Santa Claus. It'd all been so exhilarating, until the day after Christmas, when date night had turned into a crushed car and stoic police officers and a bull faced woman who'd made him throw clothes in a duffle bag he hadn't owned; when he’d been stuck with the reality that the last time he would ever see his parents was through the window of his old house, Christmas lights blinking back at him.

“Hey, we’re here."

It’s only when she speaks that Barry notices they’ve stopped and she’s parked in one of the spots designated for their building. He looks at her, blinking back into the present. He answers the question written all over her face.

“Oh, yes. I'm," he shakes his head, trying to clear it. He swallows. "Yeah, I'm good."

This time, the smile she gives him is kind.

“Sure?"

“Yeah." He rubs at his eyes. "Let's get inside before the snow starts falling more."

Later, Barry will give half a thought to what makes Iris West invite him into her apartment. They both schlep up the stairs to their third floor apartments, bags in hand, Barry trying not to wish her coat would rise a little higher as he follows behind her. He grabs his key from the pocket of his sweatpants, poised with a hand at the door, and when he turns to tell her good night, she’s staring back at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. If he didn’t know any better, he might think she was nervous.

“Chances you’d want to come in?” she blurts, “for some hot chocolate?”

Barry has two choices here. He can say thank you and go into his apartment, where the snow will still be falling and he’ll drink at least two of the beers he bought, and he’ll think about what he and his parents might’ve been doing for this Christmas holiday. Or he can go into the apartment of the woman he’s been drooling after for months and share some hot chocolate.

So really, there’s no choice at all.

************

The clock on Iris’s microwave reads 1:15 when he finds himself standing beside her stove.

When they’d first come into the apartment, she’d left him awkwardly at the door while she’d gone to change. He’d kicked off his shoes at the door, placed his coat on one of the hooks near her door, and then he’d taken a casual glance around the room. Her apartment has the same layout as his, an open floor plan with a large living room and nice sized kitchen, a large island separating the two rooms in lieu of a dining area. A hallway off the living room leads to two bedrooms and a separate bathroom. That is where the similarities end, though. Her place is cozy, the living room featuring an overstuffed couch in a robin's blue fabric and a cream colored loveseat. A large rug under a distressed cream coffee table in a swirling pattern of blues and golds and greens ties it all together. It's a far cry from the hand me down-albeit comfortable-sectional that takes up most of his living area and the hardwood floors he hadn't bothered to cover when he realized that any decent rug cost his grocery bill for a couple weeks.

Even more is the fact that it's decorated for Christmas. There's a neat tree in the corner, teeming with shiny ornaments and blue garland and strings of white lights. There's some gold and silver tinsel thrown artfully in a way that Barry would never be able to manage, and even his cold, anti-Christmas heart can admit that with the giant blue, gold, and cream bow at the top, the tree is beautiful. Other knick knacks find their places around the room: two stockings on her mantle, a few blue bows tied on various pieces of furniture, an intricate figurine of a black Santa Claus. He’d thought that he should have figured her for a Christmas person.

When she'd come back, it’d been confirmed. She'd thrown on a pajama short set, the top with buttons and a collar, the bottoms showing the expanse of legs that look too long for her short stature, all of it in candy cane stripes. Barry doesn't always love the symbols of Christmas, especially those that remind him too much of the last one he had with his parents, but nothing in Barry's body objected to seeing her walking out like that, not even the reindeer socks covering her feet and ankles. He's glad that he'd showered and thrown on clean clothes after his Netflix binge.

Now, he stands beside her as she whisks cocoa powder into a large saucepan full of milk and sugar. Her kitchen is neat and clean, with bright yellow accessories and framed quotes that claim her love of coffee.

“Did you ever make cocoa with your parents?”

He glances down at his socked feet, and then over at her. She's still whisking, her small hands and nude nails gently gripping the base of the whisk. His heart clenches at the question, but when she starts speaking without his answer, he thinks maybe it expands, just a little bit.

“My grandma swore by homemade hot chocolate. Homemade everything, really. She'd only ever make it in December and only on Sunday nights. It was a thing to look forward to, I guess, a sort of tradition.”

“Does she still make it every Sunday in December?”

She shakes her head, her answering smile only a touch sad. "No. She died when I was 15."

Barry wonders how she does it, says the words without the pain of death overtaking her, without the memory of drinking hot cocoa with her grandmother sending her running away from milk and chocolate and sugar.

“I,” he says, and decides that this must be the way people feel when he used to tell them about his own parents, full of pity and sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Iris.”

“Thanks. She was ready to go, so I think I made peace with it early on."

Barry stays leaned against the counter as he watches her, the stirring methodical, an easy, constant clockwise motion. “Did your grandmother teach you how to make anything else?”

“She tried,” Iris tells him, laughing up at him. “But it never took. I am woefully inadequate in the kitchen.”

There’s something about a woman like Iris, beautiful and seemingly kind, that intimidates him. She seems so self assured, so well-adjusted, that he seems too good for him, like he’d only manage to bring her down into the depths of his own grief if he wasn’t careful.

“Can you cook?” She wants to know.

He shakes his head. “I literally just bought frozen pizza and eggs.”

“Good.” She gives him a sharp nod. “If you could cook on top of being this cute, I’m not sure I’d let you leave this apartment.”

Barry leans down and catches her eyes. “I could learn, if you wanted me to.”

Iris hums, holding his eyes, and hers flash, white teeth biting into her bottom lip. It feels like heat, swirling around them, taking over, settling in the middle of the kitchen. It feels tight, his entire body, the result of a strange mix of swirling thoughts and deep-rooted emotions. There’s the underlying feel of heartache, a steady companion since his childhood. The loneliness that usually accompanies has taken a backseat to the growing lust flooding his system, the tightening of his chest and the tingling in his hands he gets when he looks at her. He isn’t normally a flirt, is normally a fumbling mess when he gets around beautiful women. But it’s her, this woman, that makes him feel a touch bolder, a touch daring, a bit more like he would be if he didn’t live so much in his head.

“It’s time for chocolate chips,” she announces, and it’s the only warning Barry gets before she’s suddenly pressed against him. In reality, it’s quick, he knows it is. She merely reaches over him to grab a package of chocolate chips from the cupboard above his head. But god, if the world doesn’t stop moving as he feels the full length of her, supple thighs flush against the hardness of his, her flat belly and firm breasts almost molded to him. The smell of her is overpowering, the coconut and shea butter, the cocoa powder she’d stirred into the milk.

Barry swallows as she steps back into her own space. He would think that the moment would be gone, that her dropping those chocolate chips into the pan and stirring them to melt them faster would calm him down. It doesn’t.

It’s there, festering, as she finishes the hot chocolate, pouring the sweet drinks into giant mugs and topping them with a bit of Bailey’s. That earns him a wink, the gesture even more potent than the boozy cream he’s drinking on a mostly empty stomach. He follows her to her living room, where she sits down on the couch and motions for him to do the same. She grabs a blanket from the top of the couch and spreads it out with one hand, placing it over her lap and his, closing the distance between them just a little. He sits with his back fully against the sofa, but she’s cross-legged facing him, her attention on him intense. The room adds to it all, the Christmas tree providing the only light in the room, the small white lights casting shadows across her face. It doesn’t help, or it doesn’t hurt rather, this smooth setting. It brings it all to the forefront, the lust flowing as easily through his veins as the blood tends to do.

The following order of events he’ll give more than half a thought. He’ll question, but certainly not complain about, how they go from talking to falling against her bed, naked and twisted in her sheets.

The questions start innocently enough: how old are you? What’s your career? What are your hobbies? He finds that she’s 28 to his 27, a journalist to his research scientist, loves hiking to his personal science experiments. It’s almost like a date, the way they laugh with each other over their mugs, the spiked chocolate the invitation they need to go deeper than he imagines either of them would on a first date, to bare secrets he’d probably never speak aloud.

He learns that she’s been watching him, waiting for a chance to speak to him, except the combination of her rushing and his own grumpy morning face kept her from reaching out. He tells her that the feeling was mutual, that he’d had improper thoughts of her after seeing her in those skirts, that he’d figured she’d never go for a guy like him so he’d just kept his distance. This takes them into deeper, dirtier waters. She wants to know his type, and he tells her, between warming sips of chocolate, that “I didn’t know, until recently, my love for women with deep brown skin and wide set eyes, and a mouth I want to sink into.” It’s the Bailey’s, he knows, but it’s her too, and him when he’s with her, and he likes the way the words tumble from his mouth, the way she pulls the words from him.

If she were lighter, he figures there might be a touch of red at her cheeks, but she only looks down for a brief moment, a long pink tongue swiping over that bottom lip, and he watches as much as hears her say, “I always wonder if those moles are just on your face, at your throat, or if they’re everywhere else,” and Barry swallows at how her eyes drop down, as if she can see beneath his t-shirt where more moles are peppered, as if she can tell that they’re dotted on his thighs too, right around where he’s slowly growing thick and hard.

It’s after this revelation, that the tides turn.

He watches her, for signs that this isn’t just the talking of strangers drunk of chocolate and each other. There is the rise and fall of her chest, the parted lips, her eyes that keep caressing the length of him. There is her leaning towards him, her body titled enough that he can look down the front of her top, where the mounds of her breasts are free, calling for his teeth and tongue. He swallows the rest of his drink and sits the mug down on her coffee table. Iris’s moves are similar, yet more deliberate. Barry finds himself enamored by the column of her throat as she drinks, by her nude brown nails as she wipes the excess from her mouth. She stands, her shorts riding high up on her hips, and time slows again as she plops her mug down and then comes to stand in front of him. He sits back, so that he can see all of her, until she’s sliding into his lap, and then he can really see all of her, just in the curve of her smile. And then she kisses him.

The taste of her is unbelievable, like the cream she’s been drinking and like something else warmer, something else sweeter. It’s been months since he’s kissed anyone, and the times had been few and far between before, but Barry knows that nothing has ever, could ever, compare to the feeling of kissing Iris West. She’s so soft on top of him, so much warmer than he would have thought, and he’s so overwhelmed with the feel of her, that he doesn’t know what to do outside of kissing her.

Iris takes the lead. She grips both of his hands in hers, placing one at her waist and the other at her hip, and then she sinks her fingers into his hair. The kiss turns deeper, the slide of her mouth against his, the slip of her tongue between his lips, the soft clash of teeth as they figure each other out. He tries to learn her, to adjust. She likes when he nips at her bottom lip, when he brings into his mouth to suck, so he takes advantage of that, swallowing the sounds of her moans. He likes the way her fingers tip down his throat, her nails lightly digging into his skin.

It is the sort of kiss that is written about, odes to the shape of her lips, sonnets that praise the taste of her tongue. There are songs, made for nights like this, for faint lights. and warm hands and hearts pounding. If he had the ability, he would pen poems about her, about her thick thighs spread over his lap and the heat of her body he swears he can feel through the fabric of their clothes.

She pulls back, her lids lowered, those chocolate eyes more black than brown now. She licks her lips again, as she watches him, as if chasing the taste of him, and Barry groans low in his throat. Her response is to smile at him, easy and seductive.

“Want to go into my bedroom?”

Barry’s hands tighten on her hips. “I want to go anywhere with you.”

It becomes, Barry decides, the best night of his life. She climbs off of him, and takes his hand, pulling him down the hall. He only takes enough of a glance around to know that the blues and the yellows and golds extend to this room too, accents to the soft white comforter over her queen sized bed. He sees the matching dresser and bookshelf, and it’s all pieces of her that Barry hopes he gets to explore.

She instructs him to take his clothes off, and he does, peeling off his shirt, his sweatpants, his boxers and socks too. Her clothes come off in quick and elegant movements, and Barry laments not being able to stare at her for longer, at the even, deep brown skin and the full breasts hanging heavy, her nipples like the perfect pieces of chocolate chips she’d melted earlier. Her belly is flat, hips round, calves shapely, and the look of her warms him from the inside.

He has very little control, and he happily gives it up, falling onto his back when she pushes him down and crawls atop him again. She uses the sharp tips of her nails and the wide flat of her tongue to trace constellations into his skin, to connect the dots across his chest, the dots at the slight v of his hips; to stamp her name on the imperfections marring the skin of his thighs. It’s a heady feeling, only multiplied when Iris takes the length of him into her hand and then into her mouth. His head drops back onto the pillow, her mouth warm and wet. She takes as much of him as she can and then she pulls back to the tip. She gathers the spit in her mouth, letting it drip down his dick, and then she’s sucking him with purpose, her hands sliding up and down where her mouth can’t reach, the suction of her lips glorious. She swallows him down, the slight gag when he hits the back of her throat releasing something primal in him.

“Fuck, Iris,” he says and it’s something more like a growl, the feel of her indescribable. She hums around him, and then pulls away with a pop, giving her attention to his swollen, aching testicles. He lets her suck him until his breathing grows labored, and then he’s pulling gently at her curly hair, stuttering, “want, want to come in you.”

She stays on her knees in front of him, for moments longer, and then she smiles, the sultry one she’d thrown at him in the grocery store, the one she’d thrown him in the kitchen, the smile that’s got him in her bedroom.

“It’s insane how beautiful you are,” he tells her, and he likes the way it makes her body flush, a red tinge to her skin. He motions for her now, and she crawls back up, settling her crotch over him. He notes the warmth of her pussy on his belly, and it makes his own grin a touch sordid.

“Is this because of me?” He finds himself asking. “Did sucking me off get you wet?”

Her eyes flutter closed briefly.

“I like it,” she says, “when you say these dirty things I’m not expecting.”

“It’s only because of you,” he says, and then he curls his finger around her neck and brings her down to kiss him.

This kiss is wet, open-mouthed, filthy. Barry wonders how he got here, how a short walk in the snow led to this gorgeous person writhing atop him, mumbling increasingly coarse things in his ear. He touches her where he can: fingers tipping down her spine and over her hips; hands kneading her breasts, pinching gently at the hardened peaks of her nipples; thumbing her swollen clit until the wet of her is dripping down her thighs.

Then Barry flips her over, under the insatiable need to have her spread out beneath him, and he watches her tiny hands cover the length of him with a condom.

When he’s finally inside of her, Barry swears that, when she kicks him out of her bed, he’ll do everything in his power to be worthy of her. As her thighs clamp at his hips and he swivels them until he’s buried all the way inside her, he vows to work to be enough for her, and for him too.

She’s so wet, as he rocks into her, and he tells her so, murmuring into her ear, “god, you’re so wet, baby; you feel so good around me.” She talks back, as she digs her nails into his skin enough to leave scars. “I, I never,” she whispers, her voice is soft like white falling snow and sweet like warm, melting chocolate. “I never guessed you’d feel like this.”

She milks him, gripping him in her heat, clenching around him as pulls out, letting her wetness flood him when he pushes back in. Their rhythm is steady, rocking and sliding, rocking and sliding. He holds onto her thigh, hiking it over his hip, and he tangles his hands in her hair enough to hold her steady, enough to take her mouth again. His mouth is gentler on her, mimicking the slide of his body. This feels deeper somehow, their bodies so close he’s touching every single part of her. She pulls away only enough to gasp against his mouth, “damn, Barry Allen,” falling off against his lips, followed by a laugh that turns into a low, slow “ffffuuuucccckkkk.”

When he comes, it’s at the same time that she’s clenching around his dick, their bodies slick with sweat. He falls on top of her, and their breathing mellows out. Eventually, he tries to move away from her, but she holds him there, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his neck.

“You okay?” he whispers.

He feels her nod against him. “Perfect.”

************

She doesn’t kick him out after.

Instead, they clean up and then she asks Alexa to play a song, I want a snowfall kind of love, the kind that keeps you in bed all day; oh I want to walk through with you, and watch it all melt away, and she curls into him, her naked breasts pressing against his side, her leg thrown over his thigh. He’s in the space between exhaustion and awareness, his eyes heavy lidded as he comes back down from the high that was being inside Iris West.

There’s a sort of ambiance to the room now, one that makes this all seem more romantic and intimate than he knows what to do with. The blinds are open to the wall length windows that make these apartments worth it, and the night is dark, any stars in the navy blue blanket overshadowed by the softly falling snow. The flakes are thicker now, sticking to where they drop. It has the makings of a storm, especially in how much faster it’s coming down than when he’d been walking in it.

He can imagine them, in only a few hours, when the sun has barely crested the horizon and the cold is settling into the room, being wrapped up in Iris again. He can imagine even more, when the snow melts and the sun is on its way back down again, holding Iris’s hand in his as she walks beside him, in red high heels that match his shirt, in an easy smile that looks like his own, as they head to where they’ll talk and laugh and flirt over red wine and candlelight.

And because he can imagine it, because he wants to imagine it, to make it a reality, he finds himself telling her all of it: about The West Wing marathon he’d been watching since the start of the month because he remembers it had been his parents’ favorite show and he’d seen that it was on Netflix; about his attempts to befriend one of his colleagues, Cisco, because he’s never really had a friend and he thinks that he can be one, if he tries hard enough; about the crashed car that changed his life and the pain of Christmas lights and shiny tinsel that he’s begun talking to someone to alleviate.

For a moment, he thinks he’s said too much. Sure, she’s pretty and she’s sweet and she makes him feel like no one ever has before. But he’s only met her hours ago and it’s this, this kind of baggage, that’s kept him from reaching out, from trying to get close to anyone.

She still doesn’t kick him out. Instead, she tells him about her own childhood, about how distant parents had turned into divorced ones and how the strained tension hadn’t left just because they were no longer in the house yelling at one another. She tells him the struggles she’s had at work, at having to write whatever the paper deems as “black issues,” and the double edged sword that comes with wanting to write universal stories, and also wanting to take those black stories for fear no one else will write them with as much care and nuance. She explains how unlucky in love she’s been, how her thoughts are dismissed because men think she’s too pretty or how her well-earned independence is far too independent for them to see her seriously. It makes her more real to him, and Barry ponders how quickly one could fall in love.

They talk, until the sun does rise over Iris's window sill. And Barry rolls onto his back to pull her atop him, fingering into her until she’s dripping down his wrist. He sheathes himself and pushes himself into her, wet hands holding onto her hips as she takes over, grinding down onto him until they’re both a simpering, moaning mess, soaked and sated. After, Iris cuddles on top of him again, her mouth against his throat as she tells him, “of course, we’ll go out later,” when he whispers the question into hair.

They fall asleep to the still quietly falling snow.

Won't you bury me in your quiet love, oh bury me in your quiet love, bury me in your quiet love, and we will blow away.

#westallen fanfiction #Barry Allen #iris west

17 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Speak No Evil (Part 35) - V2

So this first chapter of version 2 (V2), the TyZula path, is sort of going to be a repeat of chapter 18 with some altercations to fit the next storyline. Tbh I kind of recommend re-reading the chapters prior to it, that’s what I had to do lol.

The sun had begun to filter through the windows hours ago, spilling a pleasant and cheek-warming wash of gold over the upturned side of her face. But she remains in bed, head sunken into pillows that are so invitingly plush.

She supposes that she has earned, or at the very least, could use a day spent in bed. Or mostly spent in bed. There can’t be much harm in it, she and Zuko had come to Ember Island to relax. She has simply decided to take advantage of this rather late. She rolls onto her back and exhales. Her ankles are still throbbing lightly.

She stretches her arms and tries to prepare herself to fully wake up and rise out of bed. She could use breakfast, though at this point, it is lunchtime. She lingers for a moment in the hallway in front of the kitchen. Seicho is already awake, she probably has been for some time now.

“You don’t have to cook for me, you already did so much…” she hears Zuko mutter.

Seicho shrugs. “I like cooking, it’s a hobby.” She clearly has a lot of those, hiking, fishing, botany...it seems as though she has a new hobby for every day and she had spent a good portion of their trip going on and on about said hobbies.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.” Seicho flashes him a grin. “But if you’d like, I can show you how to perfectly cook and season a lobster!” She inhales deeply. “It already smells wonderful. The trip was fun but it’s nice to have a full kitchen of cooking supplies!”

Azula supposes that it does smell nice, especially when she adds a touch of rosemary and a sprinkle of parsley. The woman catches her eye. “You’re finally awake!”

‘More or less.’ Azula spells out. She rubs at her eyes

“Are you feeling any better?” Zuko asks.

She holds up her hands and gestures, ‘a little’.

“Good. Believe it or not, I was worried.” He pauses, “I’m still worried.”

She wonders if Seicho has told him yet of how furiously she tried to hike up that volcano. Agni, she hopes that the woman hasn’t shared anything while she was asleep. She’d much rather tell him herself, if at all. ‘Why?’

“You weren’t doing too good when you left and you came back covered in cuts and...swollen ankles.”

She shrugs, ‘I’m fine.’

She can tell that Seicho is itching to speak up. She finds herself flooded with relief. Seicho holds her tongue. She wonders how long the girl with keep holding her tongue.

‘Really. I’m fine.’ And she thinks that she is telling the truth. She doesn’t feel particularly good nor hopeful. But she doesn’t feel naggingly miserable either. Her mind is still troubled with the task of working out how to approach TyLee should they see each other again.

They will see each other again, she promises herself this.

.oOo.

TyLee bunches her fists and takes a deep breath. She isn’t yet ready, but she is as ready as she can and will be. Regardless of her hesitations, she needs to do this. She needs to if she ever wants to bring her journey one step closer to full closure.

She finds Mai outside of her aunt Mura’s flower shop, pruning leaves and ruffled petals. Zuko hadn’t expelled her from the palace, as far as TyLee knows but TyLee also can’t imagine that Mai would feel particularly welcomed there.

She takes another, much deeper breath. Agni, her hands are shaking. She isn’t sure how in the name of the spirits she is going to confront Azula. She thinks of Tuya and of the rest of her expedition mates. She thinks of the words ‘clever’ and ‘innovative’. She isn’t just ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’ anymore.

She isn’t just some bubbly, naive child.

Well perhaps she is still bubbly and chipper but she is smart. She is strong and resilient. She can hold her own.

She will hold her own.

“Hello, Mai.”

Mai looks up from her flowers as nonchalant and unexpressive as she always has been. Maybe she could use a venture away from the Fire Nation too. Maybe everyone can use a vacation from the Fire Nation. “How was your trip to…”

“The poles.” TyLee finishes. “It was amazing. Mai you should have seen it, it was glittery and enticing and it was like the Spirit World covered our world in stars…” she is rambling again. That stupid perky rambling. “And I learned a lot about myself.”

Mai quirks a brow. “Good things?”

TyLee nods. “Yes. A lot of good things.” She pauses. “And I thought about a lot too.”

“Like what?”

“Like about how I let everyone take advantage of me. Not just Azula but Zuko did it, you did it, and even Suki did it sometimes.”

Mai opens her mouth to interrupt but she won’t stand for interjection, not this time. “I don’t even think that you guys meant to do it. Azula, sure. But not Zuko and Suki. Sometimes I think that it just happened naturally. Because I let it happen. Because I couldn’t say no.”

“You didn’t mention me…”

“Because I’m not sure about you, Mai.” She confesses. “I’ve thought about it over and over again and I still can’t tell if you actually cared about me--if you actually loved me or if you were just trying to spite Azula and Zuko.” She wonders if Mai is even sure herself. Quite possibly she thinks that Mai had been killing two iguana-parrots with one stone.

“What if I told you that it was a mix of both?”

TyLee is quiet for perhaps longer than she has ever held a silence. The question has so much weight, so many nuances to consider. “Then I would say that it still isn’t okay. I don’t want to be part of some scheme. I didn’t distance myself from Azula to become your pawn instead.”

“You weren’t just a pawn…” Mai trails off.

“I was a pawn with perks.”

Mai shakes her head, “I loved you. For real.”

“So did Azula.” TyLee points out. “But I was still a pawn. I was still being used. Don’t you think it’s a little strange that you were trying to get back at Azula by doing the exact same things she did?”

“Why are you defending her?”

And there it is; the trap that they always set for her. She almost didn’t catch it. “I’m not. Actually…” it dawns upon her, “I think it’s the opposite. I’m telling you that what she did, how she used me, was wrong. And I’m saying that it doesn’t become less wrong when you do it.” She bites her lip, weary of what she is about to say. She thinks that she may have already scratched at the surface of this nagging itch in her head. “If anything it’s worse when you do it.”

For the first time in a while, Mai looks genuinely angry. Her brows crinkle and her mouth curves down ever so slightly. “How so?”

“Because you think that you’re doing it for the greater good. And you pretended like you weren’t doing it. At least Azula was trying to stop and even if she wasn’t, at least she was up front about it…” The problem with Azula, she realizes, is habit. Habit and constant apologies with no great efforts to make a change.

“What do you want from me, TyLee?”

“I want you to admit it. I want you to acknowledge that you were using me.” She wants clear cut confirmation that she isn’t seeing things that aren’t there. That she isn’t making an issue of nothing at all. She needs to know. “I need you to see that it...it really messed with me, Mai. To have so many people--to have the people I loved the most use me over and over again.” She attempts to blink away a few tears.

Mai’s expression softens and she rubs her hands over her face. “I did it okay. I loved you but I used you. I was mad at Zuko. Azula is the worst person I’ve ever met. And You’re one of the best. It was perfect; they’d both get hurt and I’d...we’d be happy.”

TyLee shakes her head. “ You’d be happy. I want to be loved, Mai. I want to be loved completely with no ulterior motives.” And it comes to her that she can be.

“So what are you going to do, TyLee? Cut us all out.”

She doesn’t want to. She’d love to keep talking to Mai and Zuko, and even Azula, if only in moderation. Deep down she thinks that she would like to love Azula again. It hurts but she knows that it is entirely possible that a talk would only solidify what she is already fairly certain of--that Azula doesn’t care who she hurts so long as her ego is intact. “If I have to. Don’t make me have to.” Silently she begs the same of Azula.

.oOo.

“No, no, like this!” Seicho takes her by the wrist and guides her hand.

‘Is there really an exact method of sprinkling salt on sizzle-crisps?’ Azula asks.

“There’s a particular way of arranging the dish too once the salt and spices are added. Personally I like to arrange my fruit slices and salad leaves to make pretty pictures…”

‘You like to play with your food.’

“It’s an art, princess! Culinary art. An undervalued art, if you ask me!” She pauses. “If you want, you can put the parchment aside and spell words out with fruit slices or sprinkle tyme to make letters.”

‘No thanks.’ She writes as Zuko grumbles, “and dirty our counters? We don’t have servants here so I’ll be the one cleaning the mess.”

“Azula can help!”

‘Azula won’t help.’ Cleaning is beneath her. Getting her hands dirty to knead dough and toss flour was a task better suited for serving personnel. She still isn’t sure why she has rolled out and flattened so many circles of dough. She gestures to them, ‘what for?’

“We’re going to wrap the sizzle-crisps in them, of course.” Seicho smiles.

Azula blinks.

“What kind of abomination are you having us make?” Zuko throws his hands up, kicking up a cloud of flour.

‘An affront to taste buds all over the Fire Nation. We ought to have you banished.’

“Don’t banish me until after you try it.” Seicho declares.

Azula picks up one of the sizzle-crisps and wraps it up in a blanket of dough. She supposes enduring the woman’s terrible cuisine creative process is the least that she can do.

.oOo.

Azula has grown unresponsive again. She doesn’t mean to in fact she had, had a nice time and had quite decently enjoyed her wrapped sizzle-crisps. But her mind is, as per usual, a mess. She thinks that she is letting things go too far. Stringing Seicho along. She is horrid with these sorts of things but she is almost certain that the woman has taken a very bright shine to her.

The shine is alarmingly bright and she hadn’t meant to plant the seeds for it. But the woman has been so good to her and, Agni, she could use love and company. So much so that sometimes she can fool even herself into thinking that she loves Seicho. And maybe she does, truly so, but she yearns so much for TyLee. And she knows exactly who she would pick if given a choice.

She rubs her hands over her face. When had she become so confused and conflicted? When had she become so delicate and volatile? She should stop thinking about this before she drives herself back into a sense of self-loathing.

“What’s wrong?” Seicho finally asks. She thinks that the woman has been dying to do just that since they started cooking.

‘Just thinking…’ She knows that she should elaborate because she knows damn well that Seicho will ask her to. She decides to wait for the request on the off chance that it won’t be made. Really, it would probably be good for her to get it off of her chest.

“About what?”

She should come out with the truth. But, spirits, she only has one friend and telling her that, that is how it will stay may well ruin it. She swallows before deciding on a careful partial truth. It is actually a whole truth, just not the one that needs to be spoken. ‘My voice.’ And truly, her lack of a voice is on her mind, just not as pressingly at the moment. She hovers the brush over the parchment as if to add something more. She almost scribbles down her confession. Instead she retracts her hand.

“What about it?”

‘I want it back.’

Azula’s stomach squirms when the woman touches her fingers to her lips. The motion is so delicate, so tender. She feels tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. She can have a lover…

TyLee probably won’t even take her back and if she doesn’t then she will regret having burned this bridge. Azula curls her fingers around her wrist. She isn’t sure where to go from here. She knows that she is a fool for writing of a sure shot at affection for the slim chance that she can mend old relationships.

She can see the disappointment in Seicho’s eyes when she ultimately decides to put the woman’s hand back at her side. She shakes her head and looks at her parchment. Her stomach flutters and squirms. With a hand that shakes slightly she picks up the parchment again.

With a lump in her throat, she scrawls, ‘I still love TyLee. I still want her.’ Her hands tingle as though they too are charged with anxiety. She can’t yet bring herself to hold the parchment up. She doesn’t want to lose Seicho. She doesn’t want to lose her...her friend? Her companion. The woman who had saved her life for Agni knows what reason.

She hands the parchment to Seicho and follows the motion of her eyes. Notes the crease in her brow, the twitch of her lips. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Azula blinks and Seicho laughs, “right.” She hands the parchment back.

‘Well?’ Azula mouths.

“Well, what?”

Azula scribbles a quick, ‘you aren’t angry?’

“I can’t force you to love me, Azula.” She takes her hand. “I don’t want to, but if TyLee uh...found someone else…”

Azula flinches. For all she knows, TyLee has already made amends with Mai while she was traipsing about the jungle.

“...you still have someone who loves you.” She smiles.

Azula lets the woman pull her into a hug. Sometimes it is nice to be held, to take gestures of comfort. She hesitantly returns the embrace.

“Do you still want to talk about your voice?”

Azula pulls out of the hug and nods, ‘I would like to find the spirit. I want to actually find it, in the right jungle.’ She takes the parchment back and adds, ‘are you going to come with me again?’

“Of course I’ll come with you! And maybe we can see if TyLee and your brother can come along. I’ll just have to let Zhang-Zin know.”

‘That would be ideal, yes.’

Seicho’s overly enthusiastic smile returns. “Things are going to fall into place for you, you’ll see!” She insists.

Azula shrugs and mouths a halfhearted, ‘maybe’.

Seicho seems to think for a moment, “but I think that we should take a break first.”

‘A break?’

“We just got back from the jungle, you’ve got a lot on your mind, don’t you think that it would be nice to, I don’t know, go to the beach and relax a little. And then we can start planning our next quest.”

‘I…’ for a moment only the single letter remains on the parchment. ‘I guess that a break could be nice.’ But it could also be a waste of time. She can’t particularly see herself being able to relax. Not with so many things on her mind. Not when TyLee could be out there deciding that dating her is the worst thing that has ever happened to her or making out with Mai or some other gorgeous woman. Not when her voice is still null. Not when she is so skeptical that Seicho truly is alright with being only a friend.

She has an inkling that the only reason she is still so cheerful is because she is secretly hoping that TyLee has moved on.

Seicho leaps off of the bed. “Tomorrow, we can go shell hunting tomorrow and I can show you this tidal pool with these spiny urchins.” She is listing off so many ideas and Azula isn’t sure what her intentions are. Isn’t sure that this isn’t just some sort of scheme to try to rope her into a relationship.

Azula rubs her hands over her face--she supposes that this sort of paranoia is exactly why things have gone so amiss between she and TyLee. She wishes that she could just accept that, perhaps, some people do mean well.

That some people just try their best to make something good of dreadful or unexpected things.

Perhaps Seicho really does just want a lighthearted day with a friend.

Azula could use one of those. Maybe it is exactly what she needs; a relationship without romance. Something more carefree before delving back into much heavier subjects.

‘I’d rather avoid urchins.’

Seicho laughs out loud, a full body laugh. “Alright, no urchins.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #TyLee #TyZula #Fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

zippityzap · 3 years

Text

My Top Ten Favourite Moments in Sonic Games

The past 30 years the Sonic series has had a lot of memorable moments, too many to list fully, so in celebration of my recent follower milestone, today I’ll be presenting and explaining my personal top ten favourite moments. I would like to emphasise that this list is very subject and is highly influenced by my personal experiences with the Sonic series. It’s not intended to be objective by any means, and I would love to hear what moments you guys would put on your own lists! Additionally, this list is only for things from the games, in the future I’ll make another list for other Sonic media

Without further ado, let’s get started!

10) City Escape’s GUN truck

Interesting set pieces and small scripted moments in levels have been a staple in the Sonic series since the beginning. Sure, they’re not always challenging from a game-play standpoint, but they’re always an entertaining spectacle. One of the most ionic of these moments (and one of my personal favourites) is being chased by the GUN truck. City Escape is already a highly memorable level from the get-go, but the truck sequence is the cherry on top. An additional shout-out to both of the Generations versions of the level for not only bringing it back but changing it up just enough to surprise you and keep you on your toes!

9) Escaping Null Space

Forces is one of those games that I would describe as a truly mixed bag. Yeah, there are a lot of things about the game that kinda sucked or were disappointing, but when it hit a high, BOY did it hit. While I agree with many people that having the Null Space portion of this level actually have gameplay in it would’ve made this moment impact a little harder, I’m just in love with that transition from the silence of null space to the bombastic chorus of Fist Bump. I thought it was a really exciting moment that hypes you up for the rest of the level.

8) Sonic Heroes’ opening cinematic

Heroes was my first 3D Sonic game, and consequently it was my introduction to a lot of things that are staples for the Sonic series. Vocal themes, an extended cast and their interpersonal relationships, story routes that connect to each other. These are some of my favourite things about the Sonic series, so even if some aspects of the game aren’t that great, I could never ever hate or even dislike Heroes. I feel like the opening cinematic to Heroes (the one with the theme song as the music) is the aspect of Heroes that really encapsulates those feelings best. I must’ve spent hours as a kid letting it play over and over again singing along to it.

7) Shadow the Hedgehog (2004) title screen cinematic

Before you laugh, here is where I must remind you that this list is extremely subjective and highly influenced by my personal experiences and memories. Ok now imagine this: you are a 7-8 year old kid, and your experience with media that isn’t mainstream radio or educational children’s tv shows is fairly limited. You’re getting deep into the Sonic series for the first time thanks to playing Heroes and seeing some of the cartoons and you’re interested to know more about the series. You visit Sonic Central, the official site at the time, and they have a music player with a variety of songs from the games. One of the songs it plays is I Am (All of Me). I won’t lie, I was a little blown away because I’d never really heard anything like it before, so I go to find out more about the game it’s from and I come across that opening cinematic.

I think it’s very, very, easy as an adult to laugh at the Shadow the Hedgehog game and it’s… direction, but adult me was not the target audience of that game, kid me was. Say what you want but the effect that game was going for I think is something that just hits best with sheltered little kids, and I’d be curious if anyone else had a similar experience.

6) The ending of Sonic and the Black Knight

I won’t go into too much detail on this one, since this is very much a fan favourite moment and many others have gone into detail about why it’s so great. Black Knight is certainly one of the games that captures Sonic’s character the best, and his words at the end of the game certainly encapsulate this. Followed by the amazing credits theme of Live Life, the ending of Black Knight is certainly one of the most emotional moments in the series.

5) Sonic Generation’s credits

Anniversary games can be a bit of a controversial subject for the Sonic fandom; 06 was one of the games released for the 15th anniversary while Forces is often considered to be a 25th anniversary game. I think Generations really achieved the feeling and the specialness of a celebratory event though. It’s one of my favourite Sonic games and the whole game is full of brilliant moments but I feel the credits really evoke the celebration vibe: a Sonic 1-esque music melody as the credits song, showing footage from the original games each stage is from, and the cherry on top: a ‘Happy Birthday’ message to Sonic recorded from fans who attended the 2011 Sonic Boom and Summer of Sonic conventions. It genuinely warms my heart every time I finish the game.

4) Metropolis Capital City level

Forces gets another representation on this list! Honestly, I believe the parts of Forces that were exciting, such as this, really demonstrate my opinion that Forces had a lot of potential to be a really good game. But I digress, this was my favourite level from Forces because it shows how fun of a villain Infinite could be. The way that Infinite follows you for most of the stage and uses illusions to fuck around with the stage itself? That’s really fun, and it’s not just stage gimmicks for the sake of having a gimmick, it ties into the powers of the villain and makes the player feel involved in a way because Infinite is messing around with you specifically and is having to make to think on your toes. Granted, part of makes this stage stand out so much in a good way is because it’s so different from the rest of the game and it takes you by surprise, so maybe the impact wouldn’t be as hard hitting if this sort of design was used more in the game, but c’mon when you have a villain who’s powers are illusion-based, the sky’s the limit!

3) Sonic Unleashed’s opening cutscene

Can you believe this game came out over a decade ago and the opening cutscene still looks this stunning?! Depending on who you ask, some might even argue that this cutscene has yet to be topped, and honestly, I’m in that camp. Not only is the rendering beautiful and the choreography of the action exciting, but this scene does a wonderful job of setting up for the viewer regardless of how much prior experience they have with the series who Sonic and Dr. Eggman are, as well as setting up the events of the game. I recall being very happy when I heard the animation team for this cutscene would also be handling the animation for the movie.

2) Beating Sonic Unleashed for the first time

So, this is another pretty personal one. I played Unleashed for the first time a few years ago and it is in my opinion, one of the most difficult Sonic games. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes for completely bullshit reasons. My first ever run of Eggmanland was around 40 minutes long and apparently that’s considered a pretty decent time for your first go, but christ it was a nightmare to finish (looking at you, that one section where you have to platform on pipes without a drop-shadow). The following boss sections weren’t much easier- I don’t rage much with video games, I tend to whisper swears under my breath at most but that part where you’re running on the Gaia Colossus had me screaming in anger every time I lost a life.

BUT when I finally beat the difficult sections? Felt like finally cracking your back after feeling stiff all day. Like taking the first sip of water after a walk on a hot day. The relief and satisfaction I felt was indescribable and slowly winding down while Dear My Friend plays as the credits theme was blissful. I don’t play difficult games that often so Unleashed is one of very few games that I have this sort of memory with.

1) Watching my dad get the good ending of Sonic 1

Here’s a small amount of backstory for this pick. My dad got his first job at 19 and he used his first pay-check to purchase the then newly released Sega Mega Drive. He had a lot of games for the console including Sonic the Hedgehog. He kept the console and games in good condition, and they were still perfectly playable by the time his first child was born (aka me!). Sonic 1 was the first video game I can remember playing at roughly 2-3 years old. I wasn’t good enough to get past Green Hill Act 3 but I loved watching my dad play through the game.

I’ll admit; his playstyle’s a little odd, he avoids speed when he can and instead, he likes to search for as many rings and extra lives as possible, but it was so enjoyable to watch nonetheless. The best bit was whenever he would manage to get all the chaos emeralds in a playthrough and be able to get the good ending. Sure, the only difference between the good and bad endings is just some flowers, but it was nice to see him be happy that he was able to achieve that ending.

And that’s the end of my list! Upon looking over it I realise most of it is either openings or endings to games…oops. I suppose they tend to be parts of games that get special attention during development since they bookend the journey. When I get around to making the second list, I’m sure it’ll have more variety, and as I said before, I’d be very interested in hearing what everyone else’s favourite moments are!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #sonic unleashed #sonic heroes #sonic generations #long post

6 notes · View notes