#getting a headache and being unable to focus on the video you still need to edit and then nsmnsjbdjsjssjsj | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

#i wrote this so fast bc it is midterms szn and i am a busy bee! but simply needed to get this out of my brain #i love y’all and hope u enjoy the softness!!#also @ the anon asked me for more drunk happy husbands here u go<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ixm #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfiction

137 notes · View notes

blazingparker · 3 years

Text

What’s Up, Danger? (Chapter 3)

Here it is! the final chapter of What’s Up, Danger? As I’ve said before, I was totally blown away by the response to this fic. Thank you to all of you who commented, left kudos, reblogged, and everything else!!

read it on ao3!

---

“JARVIS, what time is it?” Tony called out as he fiddled with repairing one of the gauntlets on one of his older suits. It had gotten damaged during the battle of Sokovia, and he’d just built a new one rather than ever repairing it. Now, with his refusal to go after Spider-Man and the lack of other missions, he’d had plenty of time to catch up on lab projects and even fix up his old suit.

“It is currently 2:37 in the morning on Friday, January 25th, sir. Might I suggest you retire and get some rest?” Tony frowned, setting down his tools. Peter still hadn’t called him, and he never stayed out patrolling this late when he had a class the next day.

Peter. The last few weeks with Peter had been some of the best of Tony’s life, hands down. While they still hadn’t defined their relationship, they were more than friends and there were definitely too many feelings involved for them to just be fuck buddies.

For once, Tony didn’t dread the early hours of the morning when JARVIS would hound him to head to bed. He’d talk on the phone with Peter, listen to how his day went and maybe tell him about his latest project before they would hang up with whispered words of affection and head to bed. On particularly good nights, he’d meet Peter in his apartment with takeout (Tony wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking he could cook, come on) and they’d cuddle up on the couch with a movie. Sometimes, he’d need to stitch Peter up or help him out of his suit to tend to his injuries, which he was always more than happy to do. Things were perfect. They were perfect.

In fact, the only reason why Tony hadn’t asked Peter to be his boyfriend yet was because he knew the young man had enough on his plate without adding the media frenzy that came with dating a billionaire. Not to mention the Avengers would find out, and that would make it even harder for Peter to keep his identity a secret.

Tony wasn’t really known for being a patient man, but for Peter? For Peter, he’d wait.

Well, not tonight. Tonight, he was done waiting. It was close to three in the morning and Peter still hadn’t called, which was highly unusual.

“JARVIS, pull up the local news.” Tony turned and leaned back against the lab table and brought his mug of coffee to his lips. Maybe Peter had gotten held up with a bigger issue, like another burning building or a larger threat that required more time to take care of. If that was the case, the local news would definitely be covering it.

What they were actually covering made him drop his coffee mug, the ceramic dish shattering when it made impact with the floor.

A blonde newscaster was speaking, but Tony tuned her out in favor of reading the tagline and watching the footage.

Spider-Man Abducted by the Avengers. There was a shaky video, likely recorded by an unassuming passerby, of Peter standing on a roof with his chest heaving. Then, out of nowhere and seemingly for no reason, he tensed. A second later, a dart could be seen sticking out of his neck. Tony’s chest filled with dread as he watched Peter pluck it out and stare at it, swaying in place. When Peter collapsed, Tony actually made a move as if he could catch the young man, and felt fury bubble up when he saw what happened next.

Steve fucking Rogers caught Peter, quickly restraining him with a pair of vibranium cuffs before slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him off.

“--people of Queens are furious. There are talks of a march on Avengers tower. They have protected us from larger threats, yes. But Spider-Man was the one looking out for the people of Queens and New York at large every day. Where were the Avengers when Lacy Collins was almost assaulted last week, when Spider-Man rescued her? Where were the Avengers--”

Tony wasn’t listening anymore. The newscaster was right, of course, Peter was better than all of them. Peter deserved nothing but the Avengers’ respect and instead he’d gotten a dart to the neck and vibranium cuffs. He stormed out of the lab, grabbing his cell phone.

“JARVIS, dial Patriotic Fucker,” he all but growled as he got into the elevator. “And take me to the suit lab on level forty. The one with the landing platform.” There was no way they’d bring Peter back to the tower, which meant Tony needed a suit. Now.

“Tony, we caught him!” Steve cried out after picking up on the first ring.

“How fucking dare you,” Tony said lowly. “The mission was to learn his identity, Rogers. Not drug him and arrest him!” By the end, he was yelling into the phone. “Where the fuck did you take him?”

“Tony-I thought this was the best course of action. He was avoiding us even more.”

“Because Clint took a fucking shot at him! If an Avenger tried to take you out, would you really be peachy-keen and excited to chat?!” Tony screamed. “You star-spangled shit, you’ve compromised everything! As if he’s ever going to work with us now, after this little stunt! Not to mention they’re talking about protests against us on the news!” Taking a deep breath, he exited the elevator and made a beeline for the nanotech suit he’d just finished up. Grabbing the little housing unit, he placed it against his chest and double-tapped it, allowing the suit to encase his body.

“Clint and I are with him at the compound. We’re upstate.” Steve’s reply came after a beat of silence, and he actually sounded remorseful. Fucking finally, Tony had a location. He blasted out of the lab and away from the tower, JARVIS automatically plugging in directions for the fastest route to the compound.

“Did Natasha know about this? What about Banner, or Thor?” Tony barked out, determined to get as much information as possible before he got there. He wanted to be able to put his full focus on Peter, not these idiots.

“No. Clint and I made the call. They’re not to blame for this, Tony.”

“Oh, and that makes things better? You kidnapped my-” Tony hesitated. Peter wasn’t technically his anything. “My Spider-Man,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have a chat about that, Tony. About the Stark Tech he’s wearing, and how your number is saved in his phone under the name ‘Snarky Bitch’. You’ve known. You knew this kid and didn’t tell the team.” Tony found his blood running cold for the second time that night.

You knew this kid.

“Steve Rogers, did you take off his mask?” He yelled, and the silence on the other end was enough of an answer. Feeling fury take over, Tony let go of any semblance of restraint he still had. That was the final straw. Peter had taken his secret identity incredibly seriously, and he deserved to reveal it to whomever he chose. Not have that choice taken from him.

“Yes, I know him. I know his name, and I’ve been helping him out,” Tony seethed. “Unlike you, you frozen fuck, I got him to trust me. He trusted me, and I helped him in return. He deserved that much. He’s sweet and kind and everything the world seems to think you are. But they were wrong. The great Captain America that the world knows would never drug and kidnap a college kid just because they didn’t do what he wanted.”

“Tony.” The voice on the other end cracked, and Tony smirked. Steve knew he was right.

“I expect you to be gone by the time I get there, which will be in about twenty minutes. You’d better stay away from him until I say otherwise, or I swear on my mother’s grave that your face will be meeting my gauntlet. Capische?”

“Understood. And-for what it’s worth, Tony, I’m sorry. I really thought this was the right call.” Tony huffed out a sigh.

“For future reference, if the plan involves drugs and kidnapping, it’s not the right call.” With that, he hung up on Steve and focused on getting to the compound as fast as he could. After a painstakingly long flight he arrived, storming through the doors and down to the detention level where he knew Peter would be. Tony exited the suit and put it on sentry mode, striding purposefully down the hall of cells, looking, searching--

Tony came to a dead stop in front of the last cell on the right and felt his heart fall right out of his body. It was Peter: restrained to a chair, in his suit but without his mask. His head lolled to the side and if Tony couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest, he might have thought the young man was dead. Each of his legs was tied down to the chair and his hands were behind his back, likely in the vibranium cuffs still.

“JARVIS, unlock,” Tony whispered weakly, and rushed in as soon as the glass door slid open. Gently brushing Peter’s curls out of his face, he dropped to his knees in front of the man. “I’m so sorry, Peter. So, so sorry,” he whispered before making his way around to the cuffs so he could get Peter’s hands free.

---

Peter woke slowly, blinking against harsh light and instinctively letting out a groan of pain when his headache made itself known. Instinctively, he tried to rub his temple and couldn’t keep from whining softly when his hands were held down.

“Sit still, Pete. Please. I’m trying, okay? I promise, I’m trying.” Tony’s voice? That didn’t make any sense, Peter had been on patrol.

Patrol.

It all came flooding back to him - the dart, his dizziness, and the vague feeling of being restrained and carried off. After that, nothing. Now, he was awake and clearly restrained and Tony was there.

Tony had sold him out? Peter didn’t want to believe it, but it was the only thing that made sense. Tony was doing something with his cuffs and he was tied down tightly, unable to move. Tony knew his routines and when he liked to head home, and could have told the Avengers when it would be best to strike. When he’d be the most exhausted.

You idiot, he thought to himself. Peter dropped his head to his chest and tried desperately to fight back tears, not wanting Tony to know he was awake. As Spider-Man, he’d been shot, stabbed, punched and kicked. But this? This hurt the worst of anything he’d ever experienced.

All of a sudden, there was a loud bang and the pressure on his hands was gone. Peter pitched forward with a squeak of surprise, not expecting to be freed. Strong hands caught him and gently eased him back into the chair.

“Peter? You back with me?” Tony was in front of him now, face etched with concern as he brushed Peter’s hair out of his eyes and moved his hands down to his wrists. The older man gently massaged them, trying to ease any soreness as Peter slowly looked up at him.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, shocked at how raspy his voice sounded. Tony just stared at him, confused.

“Because Steve and Clint are idiots, and this never should have happened. Bambi, I’m so sorry I didn’t check in sooner, I thought you were patrolling.” Tony started to ramble, and Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t...do this?” He asked, and winced at the horror that instantly took over Tony’s face.

“I’d never. I’d never, ever do something like this to you. You’re my Danger, my sweet-hearted vigilante who puts everyone ahead of himself and who I adore. I’m so sorry. If I’d known-” Tony was cut off by the swift press of Peter’s lips against his. Peter didn’t know why he’d doubted Tony for a second. Of course he would never sell him out - why would he help him and why would they be...whatever they were...if Tony’s whole endgame was to unmask him? He would have bailed after Peter pulled the mask off that one night all those weeks ago if that had been the case.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, hiccuping as he tried to keep the tears at bay. “I just-I woke up and felt you doing something with my hands and I thought-I thought-”

“You thought I was putting you in the cuffs instead of taking you out of them,” Tony murmured in understanding. Peter just nodded as the other man focused on releasing his legs.

“I’m sorry-” he tried to repeat but was stopped by a finger against his lips. As soon as the finger was removed, it was replaced with a set of soft lips.

“No apologies, Bambi,” Tony whispered, and Peter just nodded again. He still felt exhausted and sluggish, likely because of the drugs making their way through his system. Luckily, Tony seemed to read his mind. “How about we head up to my private rooms, get something to eat, and watch a movie? Hm? Just like we always do.”

“That sounds nice,” Peter murmured back, pecking Tony’s lips one more time. He then grasped the man’s hand, slowly standing up and yelping in shock when his knees immediately gave out and he went crashing towards the floor.

That never happened, though. He was caught in a pair of strong arms and lifted up in a princess carry as Tony prevented the cold concrete from greeting his face. Peter’s arms instinctively wrapped around Tony’s neck.

“I’m sure I can walk if I could just try again,” Peter tried to protest, and Tony leaned their foreheads together.

“Let me do it. You’ve probably still got some stuff in your system, and I’ve been worried sick ever since I saw the news. Just let me take care of you. Let me take care of my-” Tony cut himself off, hesitating.

“Boyfriend,” Peter blurted out before staring at Tony with wide eyes. You don’t know that he wants that, Parker. His friends literally just drugged and kidnapped you, he’s probably just feeling protective--

“Boyfriend,” Tony repeated. A huge, real smile was plastered on his face as he held Peter even closer. “Let me take care of my boyfriend.” Blushing, Peter responded by simply pressing his face into Tony’s neck as though it would allow him to hide. After a split second, he pressed a soft kiss to the skin there. Tony nuzzled his face into Peter’s hair for a moment before turning and walking out of the cell.

“You know, I never got to hear about your night. Before all this, I mean,” Tony remarked as he carried Peter towards the elevator.

“I guess not,” Peter mused, pulling back just enough to look up at his boyfriend. Boyfriend, he could say that now.

“So...what’s up, Danger?”

“Oh my god.”

#blazingparker writes #starker #starker fic #starker community #peter parker x tony stark

50 notes · View notes

agcntemily · 3 years

Note

Omg omg omg you write Penelope and elle??? I love them sm. Such an underrated ship.

If you're still taking requests, can I request a mix of 3 from hurt and 7 from comfort for them? Penelope just always has to check that Elle is okay when she gets back from the field.

prompts: “blood? are you bleeding?” — 3, hurt. “you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now.” — 7, comfort.

notes: thank you for requesting!! i love this ship — penelope would totally check on elle every time, platonic or romantic. elle would always brush her away, rolling her eyes, but she secretly loves being taken care of by penelope <3 | also hi, sorry this is so short and just not very well written. i want to write more for them on my ao3 soon!

Penelope Garcia was a worrier. When someone she cared deeply for was hurt in any way, shape, or form; she was the first one to raise concern. Having her teammates be so up close to serial killers, while she was stuck behind the screens unable to know anything firsthand, caused her to develop a small fear every time they left. Her anxiety didn’t settle until everyone was back safely. Having Elle out in that field only made it hurt ten times worse.

Elle Greenaway had absolutely no care in the world for her own health, and Penelope had learned this the hard way. She put herself in countless of dangerous situations to save people. While Penelope applauded her for her bravery and dedication to the job, she just wished Elle wouldn’t throw herself in front of harms way to get the job done. But that’s where she came in — sparkly purple bandaids and magic kisses to make the injuries feel better.

The first time it had happened, Elle had been sent to her by Hotch after he realized she’d never gotten checked out by a proper paramedic. She’d come to Penelope with a nasty scrape on her arm, insisting it didn’t hurt. The wince that came across her face when Penelope sprayed a disinfectant spray over it said otherwise, but the bubbly blonde was more focused on ensuring Elle felt better. Her own heart couldn’t rest until she’d asked if there were any further injuries, stuck a purple bandaid on her arm, and gave her a lollipop from her secret stash. She’d even pressed a kiss to Elle’s hand before sending her off.

The second time it happened, Elle came to her. Willingly. She slumped right down in the chair, mumbling something about immature paramedics trying to get her number. Penelope was less concerned with the fact that Elle was getting hit on by people who were supposed to be professionals, and more concerned with the purplish bruise forming on the side of her head. Apparently, she’d been knocked in the head by the suspects elbow when she’d tried to disarm him. There wasn’t much Penelope could really do for her aside from helping hold ice to it and giving her a few painkillers for the headaches. Although, Elle did smile a little when Penelope had offered her a kiss near the bruise to ease the pain.

From then on, Elle continued coming to her after injuries happened. Sometimes, they sat in silence. Penelope would clean her up, place a kiss somewhere near the injury, hand out a lollipop, and send her back. Other times, Elle opened up about what had happened and how much it hurt. Either way, Penelope always offered a kiss.

This time wasn’t any different. As soon as Penelope had gotten the text from Hotch that the team was on their way back, she called Elle. It barely rang once before the brunette’s voice came through.

“Hi, Garcia.” That was a sigh, a sigh Elle only made when she was in pain.

Penelope’s heart immediately clenched. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Pen, I’m fine. Don’t worry. It’s not my blood.” That was Elle’s first mistake. Later, Penelope would tease her about how adorable it was that she had no clue how to use technology. Now, though, her statement only created more concern.

“Blood? Are you bleeding?” God, Penelope absolutely hated how far away the team traveled. She would have to wait hours before she could make sure Elle was okay and calm her racing heart.

There was some shuffling before Elle spoke again. “I thought this was a video call?”

The confusion in her voice was cute, but Penelope wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. “No, gumdrop, this is just a regular call. Why are you bleeding?”

“I never know how to use these new phones,” Elle grumbled. “I liked my old one just fine, but someone had to drop it in the lake.”

She was very pointedly referring to the incident that had taken place a few trips ago. Morgan had forgotten his own phone at the hotel, and had borrowed Elle’s to take a picture of the lake for evidence. He wound up dropping it into what Penelope considered a swamp, and made it his personal mission to buy her a new phone. “Not one of those old school flip phones. You need a good one, something that’ll get you around,” is what he had said. So far, said phone had given her nothing but trouble. Penelope half considered stealing it and modifying it down to a more simpler version for her.

“Elle, sunshine, I need you to focus for a minute.” Penelope’s voice raised an octave involuntarily.

Elle let out a deep sigh from the other end. “Yeah, Pen?”

Then, in that small and cutesy voice that everyone seemed to adore, Penelope redirected their conversation. “Why are you bleeding?”

Penelope tracked Elle’s phone from the second she stepped foot back inside the BAU, to the second the door opened to her little lair. Elle barely had time to breathe before Penelope was hugging her tightly, bringing one hand to rest on the back of her head. She felt safe in the blonde’s arms, not that she would ever like to admit it. Warm, safe, cared for — it was everything she craved to feel after a case like this.

She caved pretty quickly, dropping her head to Penelope’s shoulder. It wasn’t long before the burn of tears in her eyes became too much, and she was certain that Penelope could feel her hot tears dripping onto her shirt. “Oh, my little gumdrop,” she heard beside her ear. “Where does it hurt?”

Elle blew out a shaky breath, trying to steady her voice. “My ear. Morgan cleaned up the blood.”

The story had been revealed during the plane ride home: an unsub had caught Elle as she was clearing one room of his house, and he had no qualms about punching her straight in the ear. According to the paramedics on the scene, her hearing was fine, but she refused to let them clean her up or check over anything else. Hotch only agreed because the paramedics said it wasn’t anything too serious and Elle was clearly shaken up over the whole ordeal.

“He did?” Penelope hoped her voice was low enough that it wasn’t hurting the woman in her arms. She felt a nod against her shoulder. “That was nice of him.” Keeping one arm wrapped around Elle’s waist, she brought her other hand to gently rub her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She felt a little shake of Elle’s head. “No,” came the small voice. Penelope’s heart swooned. She did the only thing there was left to do, and the one thing she could do better than being a technical analyst; comfort her (girl)friend.

“Okay,” she sighed, feeling the warm tears still soaking through her shirt. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’ll be alright. No one can hurt you now.” She punctuated her sentences by pressing her lips to Elle’s temple, leaving a series of kisses.

For the first time in years, Elle felt protected. She felt loved, which is something she hadn’t felt since before her father died. The feeling was overwhelming, adding onto her tears. Penelope Garcia’s worrying could be overbearing to some people, but being loved by Penelope Garcia was one of the most amazing experiences Elle could ever recommend.

#elle greenaway #penelope garcia #elle greenaway x penelope garcia #penelope garcia x elle greenaway #elle x penelope

22 notes · View notes

itsamejin · 4 years

Text

leave me || part 3 || suga angst ||

Part 1 || Part 2

Warning: angst, cheating, cursing, intoxication (heavy drinking)

Summary: He’s cheating and you’re aware. You just don’t know what to do about it.

–

Min Yoongi, to say the least, was tired. He was tired of his fame, his fans, his group members. No, fuck it. Min Yoongi was exhausted.

The guilt that came with his infidelity led him to a nearby bar where he could drown himself in his sorrows once again. He should've known better.

It's been two weeks since you've left him and in some twisted way, he still believes you'd come back. If he had been kinder, if he had told you sooner... Would you have been more forgiving?

Shot after shot of vodka, Yoongi didn't know when to stop. It was self-destructive, he knew it better than anyone else. But Yoongi didn't need someone to tell him what's right and what’s wrong about his situation because he already fucking knew that he messed up, that there was no turning back.

Yoongi was prepared to pass out at that bar tonight, lacking the energy to call a cab and drag himself home. He was prepared to just lay there and hope the bartender doesn't call the cops on him or that even more videos of his drunken adventures show up online the next day. He was so prepared that it came as a shock when a pretty young lady scooped him up and took him to the BTS dorm.

As he got one last glimpse at his savior, he wondered why he felt so at home in her arms.

–

Waking up with a feeling of intense grogginess, Yoongi regretted every decision he made last night. The world was spinning and he needed to throw up. Running to the restroom, Yoongi splurged his guts out. He coughed up the remainder of his vomit and groaned. He muttered incoherent words, clinging onto his scalp for dear life. It wasn't the migraine that hurt the most, it was that deja vu feeling of you patting his back over the toilet bowl after an intense party you both attended.

"Yoongi, baby, are you okay?" a sweet voice called.

Jieun.

Yoongi groaned even louder. He must've drunkenly texted or called her last night. Of course she was the person that took him home. Why did he trick himself into thinking it was you?

Jieun lightly tapped on the bathroom door and opened it slightly. She gasped at his appearance.

"What happened?!" she screeched.

"Just threw up, that's all," he said, his mouth sore and his head pulsing.

Jieun looked at him with those puppy dog eyes, pouting at his wrecked state.

"C'mon, let's get you fixed up babe.”

She was ever so sweet, ever so loving. But somehow the look of worry on her face made Yoongi's migraines even worse. Without warning, Yoongi threw up the remainder of last night's alcohol all over Jieun’s feet.

–

“Hey can anyone help me in here? Yoongi’s passed out on the floor,” Jieun called out from inside the bathroom, scrubbing the vomit off her feet under the bathtub faucet.

When she heard no response, Jieun wiped her feet on the bath rug and stepped over Yoongi’s lying form to get to the living room.

A few minutes ago, the rest of BTS was on the sofa watching reruns of a 90s sitcom, but it seems that ever since she got there, all the members except one moved to their own rooms.

“Hey Jin, can you help me carry Yoongi to his bed again?” she asked kindly.

It seemed everyone wanted nothing to do with her today because he audibly sighed and did not acknowledge her existence even as he got up to pass by her.

Seokjin grimaced at the site of Yoongi. He reeked of alcohol, vomit, and bad decisions, but Seokjin soldiered through his own queasiness to get him on the bed.

Jieun watched from the door frame and chuckled nervously.

“What’s gotten into him lately?” she wondered out loud.

“Jieun I think you should go,” Seokjin replied coldly, ignoring her previous question.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll handle it from here,” he said, keeping his focus on Yoongi’s intoxicated form.

“I need to know what’s going on, Jin. He’s been like this for the past few weeks, I’m worried-”

“Yeah well, maybe you shouldn’t be,” he cut her off. This was the first time he looked at her throughout her whole visit.

“Jin, I know you don’t like me but-”

“This has nothing to do with how I feel, Jieun. You just need to go,” he walked towards her.

“I just want him to be okay,” she replied, tears forming in her eyes. Seokjin was always like this to her, saying hurtful comments with no consideration towards her own feelings.

“Trust me Jieun when I say that you could do so much better than Yoongi,” he started. “You’ll learn that soon enough. For now, I need you to leave.”

The tears ran down Jieun’s eyes with no semblance of stopping. She didn’t know why he felt the need to even talk about Yoongi’s worth when it came to her. Seokjin pitied her ignorance but he knew it wasn’t his place to say anything too specific. Let Yoongi reap what he sowed.

Afraid of how her voice would come out, Jieun just nodded. Without another word, she slipped her high heels back on and left the dorm. She noticed, before she left, that Yoongi’s room was strangely empty.

As if it was a guest room.

–

Yoongi, woke up once again, in a bed he hadn’t slept in since he moved out with you. Instead of being greeted with Jieun's honey-like voice, the first thing he saw was Seokjin’s disgusted expression.

“What the fuck, can you not look at me like that right when I wake up,” Yoongi murmured under his breath.

“Are you feeling any better or should I get you something?” Seokjin asked, but there was obvious contempt in his voice. He said it out of courtesy, not concern.

Yoongi caught this so he shook his head, but he definitely needed some hangover medicine to ease the headache.

“I’m good.”

“Alright,” Seokjin sighed. “I’m just gonna tell you straight up."

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck in irritation and confusion.

"What?"

"You barhopping every fucking night is ruining the group’s image," Seokjin started, "Do you know how many videos the company has taken down with you screaming at bartenders for refusing to give you any more drinks?”

Yoongi groaned.

“Listen, bro. I’m sorry. It won’t happen-”

“No, you listen. You don’t think I know what this is about?” Seokjin asked grabbing Yoongi by the collar of his shirt.

Yoongi only tilted his head in confusion. Seokjin continued on.

“You’re insane if you think [Y/N] is gonna take you back after this and you’re even more insane for stringing along Jieun so you can have someone to have sex with while you drink away your problems.”

Yoongi wanted so desperately to respond, but Seokjin’s grip on him was intense.

“We all know Yoongi, all of us. That you cheated on [Y/N]. And it’s crazy because just last year you were planning to get married to her and now look at you!”

Seokjin let go of Yoongi and stepped back, clearly disgruntled with Yoongi’s lack of a reaction.

“I didn’t think it would come to this either but-”

“Stop making excuses, Yoongi. You can deceive those poor girls but you can’t trick me. Get this shit settled with before you damage everything we built up to get here. Namjoon was too scared to confront you because you’re his hyung, but I’ve stayed quiet long enough.”

Yoongi looked down at his bed sheets, unable to come up with a good enough response to Seokjin’s harsh words. As if his body wasn’t already drained, the tears went down his face onto the blanket so rapidly he was almost blinded. He grabbed his hair and sniffled.

“I want to make things right, but I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Seokjin glared at him and made his way to the door. Before exiting Yoongi's room, he turned around only slightly.

“Apologize to both of them. The right way.”

–

Yoongi spent hours rehearsing this exact moment as he stood in front of your parents' house. He kept repeating the same words over and over again as if he was trying to memorize rap lyrics to a new song.

As he finally took a deep breath in, Yoongi pressed the doorbell. There was nothing at first and went to press it again until he heard light footsteps on the other side. His heart rate picked up and Yoongi’s palms were sweaty.

Without looking through the peek hole, you opened the door without hesitation. Immediately regretting it, you attempted to shut the door just as quick. Unfortunately, Yoongi’s foot stuck out and stopped it from closing any further. You wanted to scream, but you know the reaction your neighbors would have if you actually did.

“I just want to talk,” Yoongi said, reading off the script he prepared in his mind.

“I don’t,” you replied coldly.

“I just want closure. Nothing else. I need to see you one last time,” he said, getting choked up between his sentences.

You paused your attempts to close the door to assess the situation. There was no need to see him one last time, you thought. You already got all the closure you needed. As you were about to reject his offer, he continued speaking.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just... meet me at the apartment tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”

He took his foot out and shut the door for you. He came as easily as he left and yet for some odd reason, it felt like he hadn’t even come at all. After a few seconds of deliberation, you opened the door again. There was no sign of him and that got you to thinking. Would it be such a bad idea?

–

The next day came and Yoongi felt like you weren’t going to show up at all. No message, no call, no nothing. He waited in the apartment after preparing a dinner that he doubts you’d even touch if you did ever decide to show up.

It felt so cold in the comfort of his own home, with no other person occupying the vast space with him. He no longer slept in the bedroom, opting for the couch because he always seemed to tear up at the sight of the bed without your body laying next to his.

Yoongi wondered if this endless waiting was similar to how you felt when he was at the studio or with Jieun late at night. Again, the guilt bubbled up inside him and his heart clenched with hurt. He felt suffocated in the apartment and he need to step outside to clear his mind. He’d visit the boys and maybe then their presence would lighten his mood.

–

“Yoongi, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” a voice called out to him as he walked down the dorm’s hallway. He turned around to put a face to the voice and sure enough, it was exactly who he expected. Jieun.

“I thought today was your day off, why weren’t you at the dorm earlier?” she asked, clutching onto his arm when she got to him.

Yoongi flinched at the contact. He felt so conflicted with himself. He wanted to push her off, but he also wanted to tug her into his arms and pull her in closer. He wanted so badly to tell her everything, to apologize for his actions and that she didn’t need a scumbag like him. But he was still so selfish because he thought that if it didn’t work out with you, at least he’d still have her.

“I actually have something to do today, let’s talk another time. Okay?” he replied, softly pulling himself away from her. She pursed her lips and sighed.

“I’m just worried about you, alright? You’ve been so distant lately. I just want to ease some of the stress.”

“I know you do, but I need to figure this out for myself. I’ll text you later, okay?”

She nodded and pecked him on the lips. He wished he could say that he hated it, that the feeling of her kissing him repulsed him, but Jieun was Jieun and he couldn’t resist kissing her back.

“Another time then, babe?”

“Yeah,” he said solemnly. As Yoongi watched her walk back down the hallway towards the elevator, he felt like ripping out his own heart and stomping on it. Because even though it's fucked up that he's still so infatuated with Jieun after everything that has happened, he can’t help but want her to stay instead of leave.

Staring at his dorm door, he decides against going inside. He didn’t feel like seeing Seokjin’s disapproving gaze again.

–

It was a bad idea.

It was such a fucking bad idea.

You paced back and forth the apartment lobby like a mad woman. You should leave. There was enough time to go back home and relax, but again and again the nagging voice in your head telling you to hear him out seemed to annoy you much more after his surprise visit. You wanted to know so badly why he came to you reeking of desperation and heartbreak. If there was even a reason to his affair and if he truly regretted his actions, you just needed to know. Making your way to the apartment elevators, it was almost fate that you’d bump into the very person you despised besides Yoongi.

The other girl.

She was just as shocked as you, but for another reason. Your handbag had fallen to the ground and she apologized profusely.

She exuded the very definition of beauty. Her skin glowed with no imperfections, her legs long, and fingers dainty. Aphrodite had appeared right in front of you and all you could do was stare at her with an open mouth. You should’ve been more angry to see her in front of you, but you couldn’t shake of the feeling that Yoongi deserved to be with someone like her. Someone so unlike you.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, I’m so clumsy,” she chuckled.

Jieun picked up your bag and the contents that slipped out and gave it back to you. She looked at your stunned form and laughed a bit more.

“I’m sorry, were you a fan? Would you like to take a photo?”

Bewildered by her response, you just shook your head.

“N-no, I was just shocked to see a celebrity here," you lied, knowing full well that BTS and a couple of other groups have lived there for years.

“Oh, well I was visiting my boyfriend so you’ll probably see me often if you live here,” she smiled to herself.

The first spark of anger rang through you when she said that. It was then the image of her beauty had started to crumble as you thought of Yoongi and her together. The nights they spent, the romantic dinners they had.

None of them with you.

“Well, I need to get going so it was nice meeting you,” you replied, clearly wanting to get out of the conversation.

Just as Jieun was planning to say goodbye, she noticed the ring on your finger and something about it made her heart drop. Now where did she see that ring before?

–

You stood in front of your old apartment with a new sense of purpose, no longer nervous or anxious. You were ready to walk in there and break his heart into pieces. To reject any compromise or excuses he’d make. You knocked on the doorbell and waited a few seconds until you knocked again. The door opened slowly, as if a gust of wind was what got it to open. You pushed the door to reveal Yoongi in a white sweater and ripped jeans. He smiled and invited you in.

“Sorry, I didn’t answer the first time. I thought you were one of the boys,” he said as you pushed past him, took off your shoes, and walked into the living room. The place was so bare, it was a wonder that anyone even lived in it. You did a good job, you thought, of cleaning everything out so perfectly.

“Let’s make this quick Yoongi,” you replied curtly. The run-in with Jieun had pissed you off immensely and you just wanted this confrontation to be over with.

Yoongi looked at you and sighed.

“I made dinner,” he said.

“I don’t care.”

Your response went as expected, he thought. Yoongi sat on the sofa as you hesitantly took a seat on the arm chair next to it.

“Well, get on with it, Yoongi. Talk.”

He hated how aggressive you sounded. This conversation was supposed to be civil, meant to convince you that he was truly sorry for his actions. He needed to speak wisely if he wanted to get you to calm down.

“I’m sorry that I cheated on you with Jieun,” he started, slowly easing into the words. You scoffed.

“Why are you sorry? I ran into her earlier, she’s a very nice girl," you said sarcastically.

Your voice was so coated with malice that Yoongi struggled to breath under your cold gaze.

“Please don’t blame Jieun. It’s not her fault,” he gulped. “I never told her about you. About anything. I led her on.”

You gritted your teeth enough to hear it.

“Do you make it your business to break girl’s hearts, Min Yoongi?”

Feeling guilty over your toxic behavior towards Jieun earlier, you channeled that anger to the man sitting in front of you instead.

He flinched and shook his head.

“I’m so fucking stupid, [Y/N]. You don’t know how much I hate myself for what I did to you and what I did to her, but I didn’t think it’d turn out like this. I thought we could work it out. I didn’t think this would be the fucking end-”

“Yoongi, you’re a fucking cheater. Us breaking up was actually the best case scenario,” you said, raising your voice.

“[Y/N], please. I’m asking you to hear me out.”

“Go ahead,” you started, “but nothing is going to make me forgive you. I hope you know that.”

He brushed his hair back with his hand. He didn’t know where to start and whether it would even make sense in the end.

“Our relationship just didn’t feel like how it used to, you know? It’s like you weren’t the person I fell in love with when we first started dating,” he cringed at his word choice but kept going. “And Jieun... she was so much like you and I couldn’t get her out of my head. But I know now. I know I should’ve treated you better, I know you deserve-”

“Then why the fuck am I here Yoongi,” you stood up, looking down at his sitting form. “Why the fuck are you expecting me to accept your apology when you don't deserve it? You don’t care about how I feel at all, Yoongi. Because you’re a selfish bastard.”

You were practically screaming at this point, tears threatening to fall to the ground.

“You’re here because you know you want me back too [Y/N],” he said, his voice slightly shaking. “I know you want me back as much as I do."

“You're the last person I want to be with right now” you seethed. “You could die at this moment and I wouldn’t fucking care.”

To that, Yoongi snapped. You were making things so much more difficult than it had to be.

“It must’ve been so easy for you, huh [Y/N]?” Yoongi stood up. “It must’ve been so easy to play the victim when you were the one that fucking fell out of love with me first.”

You looked at him, confusion written all over your face. The argument had escalated beyond what you were expecting. There was no fucking way he was bringing that up.

“Yoongi, how are you not over that? It’s been a year-”

“What the fuck do you mean [Y/N]? I proposed to you! I promised you my life and you fucking said no. That shit is gonna live with me until I die. There's no way I'm going to forget that.”

“Oh no, Yoongi did I hurt your feelings?” you said in a mocking tone. “At least I didn’t fuck another guy behind your back for a few months and announced it to the whole fucking world!”

“That’s not the point and you know it!” he walked towards you, his eyes watery. “You didn’t even give me a reason, [Y/N]. The least you could’ve done was tell me why.”

You avoided eye contact with him, opting for the bare wall behind him and the wooden panel floors underneath you. You hated it when he was angry, but you needed to get this off your chest.

“You want your reason, Yoongi? You want it plain and simple?” you said, gaining more confidence.

You treaded closer to him, so close to his face that you could feel his breath on your skin. Your face neared his left earlobe.

“I wasn’t fucking ready to spend my life with a guy who was eventually gonna cheat on me anyways.”

You pulled away to take a glimpse at his shocked state. You were satisfied with the reaction. He looked almost just as broken as you did a few weeks ago. His fist was clenched so hard you saw the veins protruding underneath his pale skin. Composing himself, he took a deep breath.

“[Y/N]. I’m begging you. I’m not going to ask for a second chance, not anymore. It’s obvious we’re past that,” he swallowed back his tears. “I just want to know the real reason. None of that petty shit.”

You scoffed at his naivety. Maybe it was time to come clean, to do him a favor.

“Yoongi, did you really think that just because you asked your company to let you propose means that they’re actually going to approve that easily?”

He squinted.

“What are you talking about?”

“How many times did I have to tell you that I loved you even after you proposed? How many times did I have to fucking reassure to you that eventually we would get married?! That it just wasn’t the right time-”

“So you’re saying that-” he tried to interject.

“Yoongi. You’re smarter than this. I would have fucking said yes in a heartbeat if you’re manager didn’t come to me and tell me that BigHit would ruin my life if we got married. My face would have been all over the news. Your contract would have gotten terminated, Yoongi. They put all that pressure on me and you didn’t even fucking notice,” you cried.

“Wait, but-”

You wanted so desperately not to cry in front of him but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. He grabbed the back of his head with both hands in exasperation.

“How the hell would you expect me to know that if you didn’t tell me at all?” he replied.

“It doesn’t matter, Yoongi," you shook your head. "Because I’m positive you would have cheated on me anyways. That’s the type of person you are, Yoongi. It didn’t matter if I said yes, it didn’t matter if I said no. Because we’d still be arguing in the end anyways.”

“That’s not true and you know it-” he started, but got cut off as he stumbled over his own words. You only continued on.

“You know I treated this promise ring like the real thing,” you cried, fiddling around with the accessory adorned on your finger. “It didn’t matter to me if we were married, just as long as were together. Because six years with you meant everything to me, but now I realize I waited for no reason. I don’t need it anymore Yoongi. I don’t need you.”

You struggled to take off the ring that had been stuck to your finger for so long that it felt foreign having it off. You walked passed him and slammed it down onto the coffee table. It felt liberating but that tiny voice that wants to forgive Yoongi once again whimpered because of the ring’s absence. His expression had noticeably darkened, his eyes red.

“You had no fucking right to make that decision for me [Y/N]. You had no right to keep that information to yourself when it could’ve saved our relationship.”

“What’s done is done,” you replied, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He chuckled out of disbelief.

“No, fuck that," he replied. "You don't get to give me a half-ass response like that. I spent a whole year wondering where I went wrong and if you even loved me anymore and you tell me now that you said no because of my company?! I would have quit, [Y/N]! I would have done everything to be with you!”

“And that’s the problem Yoongi,” you threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “You give up anything without thinking! You see how easily you could find someone else to love? How easily you gave us up?”

He shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

“That’s different, I was in a dark place in my life. If I only knew I would have never even talked to Jieun,” he said.

“Stop making excuses Yoongi. It’s not going to work with me anymore,” you whispered.

"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry [Y/N]. I'm so fucking sorry," he said trying to move closer towards you.

"I’ve realized that I'm better off without you and it’s time you realize that you don't need me as much as you say you do. Think about the months you spent ignoring me," you said, wiping the tears away. "I accept your apology, but please. Never contact me again.”

As you turned your back on him, he pulled you to face him again. But the hurt in your eyes made him let go. His throat was so dry that he couldn’t speak another word as you walked towards the front door. You put on your shoes and didn't bother to look back at his broken state. You opened the door and underneath your breath, you whispered "Goodbye, Yoongi."

And with that, you exited the apartment you once called home.

Even in that moment, Yoongi couldn’t shake the image of you turning your back on him outside of his head. Because it looked so much like Jieun’s earlier that day. That’s right.

He needs to see Jieun.

–

AN: I will say this as loud as I can. I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS WAS RELEASED AFTER A WHOLE YEAR. TRULY FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART I AM SORRY. This was already written and done with a year ago. Part 4 is done as well, the last part of the series. I was just so unconfident with this third part that I never posted it and I regret that decision very much. I never forgot about this blog, I was just very insecure about my writing that I have all these drafts for no one to see. I’ll start posting them and even accept drabble requests from now on. (I’m in quarantine what else can I do?) I should have kept you all updated, but I didn’t and I promise from now on I will communicate with you guys so much more. I actually checked my inbox yesterday and was flooded with support from you guys and that really motivated to keep this blog going. I legitimately almost cried. Thank you guys and I love you all. I hope you liked this part.

Tags: @jaiuneamesolitaiire @milady-mira @somewhereinthestarss @yunkibts @cuteipat

If you want to be added to the tag list, just go to my ask box and let me know!

487 notes · View notes

boxboysandotherwhump · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 8 is finally finished and boi was it a fight. Thank you again for proofreading @haro-whumps <3 and for anyone else who might wonder, the dish Paxton is cooking in this drabble is a traditional polish dish called Zupa Mleczna

Tag list: @albino-whumpee @orchidscript @finder-of-rings @haro-whumps

CW: mentioned past abuse, institutionalized slavery, boxboy universe typical slavery, aftermath of conditioning, fucked up headspace of whumpee

The week had simultaneously stretched into an endless expanse of getting to know someone new, and flown by like the flutter of eyelashes.

Paxton’s box had caught dust, halfway forgotten in the attic by now, and Paxton had grown used to sleeping wrapped in warmth, when he was particularly lucky even in his master’s arms, and he savored every second of it.

Life in the shared flat never ceased to amaze Paxton, every new day leaving him less scared, rather eager to learn more about his new master, this new world. He cherished every newly revealed facet of Amal as he tried to assemble them into something comprehensible, piecing together the most wondrous and complex puzzle he’d ever seen.

In those last days for example, Paxton had discovered that Amal drank his tea piping hot, risking to burn his tongue rather than waiting for it to cool. He seemed to be like that with most things, always in a rush to reach his end goal as quickly as possible. The only times Amal could be patient was while creating something or when he was with Paxton.

Amal also tended to snack half the dinner ingredients, getting full before dinner was even ready but eating a portion nonetheless. Maybe, Paxton had thought, it’s because Amal often forgoes eating for hours, so absorbed in his work projects he seemingly forgets he exists in a physical body at all. Perfectly still and focused, his only movements pencil strokes over paper while he works on new tattoo designs. At certain points he would suddenly jump up, run to the bathroom, and raid the kitchen to gorge himself on all the snacks and leftovers he could find.

Paxton had made it a point to cook whenever Amal got ‘in the zone’ as Miss Meryem had jokingly called it, and even if his master had told him he didn’t have to, Paxton thought that he wanted to. Especially when it meant he could watch Amal munch away with that grateful, delighted expression of his, whenever Paxton prepared some tea or food.

Even Mister Finnegan had grown fond of Paxton, and had started dragging him up to the attic, teaching him all about the plants overwintering there, waiting for their replanting in spring. Or how to bind winter wreaths from twigs and dried berries. Mister Finnegan had been surprised, the first time, how quickly Paxton had learned, and had praised him so much his face was still flushed red as they climbed down the attic ladder some time later.

In moments like these, Paxton wished he could still read and absorb all the precious information from the plant care guide Mister Finnegan had given to him. He longed for a time where his head didn’t explode with pain whenever he squinted at writing for too long. For when he wouldn’t get catapulted to the limits of his body, or worse, the borders of his own mind. Pain reduced him to a prisoner of bone and flesh, misfiring neurons became his jailer.

Paxton poured noodles into warm milk with a soft sigh, careful not to burn them. A strangely familiar smell filled the kitchen while he cooked, cinnamon and sweetness anchored him in the here and now. Snowflakes danced beyond the kitchen window, crystals of cold sending phantom shivers down his spine. Paxton unrolled the soft green sleeves of his wool-sweater, letting them cover his scarred hands, soothing itchy skin, gentle like a caress. Warmth bloomed in his heart, with every slow stir of the wooden spoon, creating ripples in the milk.

What did it matter if he couldn’t read anymore? He still had his intuition, could still find parts of himself in tastes and smells and muscle memories. No, with his master’s permission to experiment, ‘or go crazy in the kitchen’ as Amal had put it, he didn’t need books, or to learn new things. The only things that mattered were that he remained good for his master, cooked things his master would enjoy, cleaned satisfactorily, (which was easy enough with such lenient masters in such a small flat), and kept his master happy. Which was the easiest part of them all, since Amal seemed to delight in everything Paxton did. Even if he just lied on the couch, curled under blankets he couldn’t ever truly earn. But the rules were different here and Paxton’s heart began to buzz whenever he saw his master, not only with anxiety but with a warmth he thought he’d lost in an ice-cold white room.

Satisfied with the noodle’s consistency, Paxton stirred in cinnamon and sugar, turned down the heat and started to pull bowls from the shelves as his master suddenly burst into the room, some kind of oversized smartphone clutched in one hand and a pleased grin plastered on his face.

“Paxton.” ,he said beaming.

The sudden intrusion of his cooking space made Paxton flinch, despite himself.

Even though Amal was often buzzing around him, trying to help while he worked, it still set Paxton on edge, feeling utterly improper. A Boxboy receiving help from his master, inconveniencing him with undignified tasks like cleaning or cooking, was unforgivable! Sometimes Paxton even found himself wishing for Amal to be stricter. Yearning to just be punished by him, to be shown his place instead of being constantly overwhelmed by this kindness he didn’t even deserve.

Something must have given his unease away. His master’s grin softened into a sheepish smile as he sat down, slowly, gently placing the smartphone-like device on the table.

“Hey. Hi.” Amal’s voice grew soft, sounding almost shy and Paxton couldn’t help but return Amal’s smile. His lips and heart and body reacted all on their own around Amal. Separated from his desire to act appropriately, to be a good pet that could serve his master without breaking down crying every other day or stealing all his master’s blankets at night.

“Hi…. Uhm, welcome back… sir.”

Paxton watched his master bite back a protest at the title, allowing him to use it like he’d promised.

“I came up with something for your reading… problem.”

Turning off the stovetop, Paxton turned around, hoping the hurried steps to his master’s side wouldn’t give his eagerness away.

The way Amal’s eyes glimmered up at him, crinkling with his smile, told Paxton he’d seen right through him. Like he always did.

Paxton looked down with warming cheeks, his stockinged feet shuffling over the polished kitchen floor. “And what, uhm, what… would that be? Sir?”

A bright grin lit Amal’s face up as he brought the device to life with the press of a tiny button. “Tadaa. A friend gave me this tablet. Like, super cheap.” His master’s grin stretched even wider, and Paxton wondered for a second if his cheeks didn’t hurt. “And it has google voice search.”

He perked up. The term sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quiete place it. “Voice search?”

“Yes. Yes, come here.” Amal scooted over, shoving the tablet under Paxtons nose as soon as he’d sat down. His master leaned closer and his small body pressed up against Paxton, green curls tickling his chin as Amal rambled, his face flushed with excitement.

“Here see, I already set it up so that only the symbols are visible. There’s no writing if you don’t go in the menu. So the important apps first. This is the Netflix symbol. Netflix is awesome because you can-“

Amal rested his elbow on Paxton’s thigh as he explained the virtues of streaming platforms and Paxton’s head blanked. His master was so close and small and warm and smelled so so good and Paxton was utterly unable to concentrate on the tiny screen symbols for a moment.

Focus! Focus! Focus! Master said this is important.

“Okay but what’s probably the most useful for you is youtube.”

Paxton watched him tap on the small red icon and big pictures with little texts under them popped up. Thumbnails, as master called them. If Paxton squinted a bit he could ignore the letters enough to evade a new impending headache.

“There are tutorials and documentaries and video essays for basically everything you could wish for. You just have to press the little microphone and hold it while you ask.”

“Uhm, ask- ask what, Sir?” All this new information made Paxton’s head spin.

“Uh, I don’t know,” his master confessed as he scooted back with a bashful smile and Paxton swallowed a frustrated whine. The leg master had just leaned on felt suddenly, terribly cold. He wanted master to nuzzle back against him and continue to explain new things to him in this adorably excited way of his.

Stupid, stupid Pet. You messed up and now master is just going to leave and never show you anything he likes ever again because you’re too stupid to understand it. You useless-

“Anything that interests you I guess. Hm let’s see, something other than cooking maybe.”

Paxton’s heart sank. Was it not good that he liked to cook? Master always said he didn’t have to but-

Amal waved his hands apologetically “Not that there is anything wrong with cooking.”

His master had seen right through him. Again.

“But maybe we could search for more things you like?”

You’re a pet now. What you want is irrelevant 626.

Paxton gave an insecure little nod and Amal pressed the little microphone symbol with a smile as he demanded,. “Funny cat videos.”

Sure enough, thumbnails with cute little kittens plopped up just as his master had ordered. His voice had been direct but warm. Firm. Paxton really liked to hear his master order for something, and the hope that he would maybe at some point talk to him like that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, right to- His leg twitched as he took the tablet from his master’s hands.

“I- I want to- to try.”

“Go ahead then.” A smile tinted his master’s voice but still, this could count as an order. Right?

Unsure, Paxton pressed the microphone symbol. “Uhm, could you, you please show me how to bind flower wreaths. Please?”

Unlike when his master did it, no thumbnails appeared. He stared at the thick black letters in confusion. He must have done something wrong and the letters were meant to punish his failure. Paxton could already feel the impending headache throb behind his eyes. He wanted to endure it, to force himself and look at those letters of damnation, but Amal took the tablet from him.

Now he must have messed it up.

Fearing for the worst Paxton glanced down at his master. Amal’s eyebrows were drawn together and the corners of his mouth twitched as teeth dug hard into his bottom lip. White sunken into pink flesh.

Surely this was it. The moment of punishment had finally come. Even his master’s patience must have reached its limits after Paxton messed up such a simple order.

Bracing for the impact he froze as his master doubled over snorting.

“Oh god you’re so cute, you know that?!”

Paxton’s mouth opened and closed like a fish stranded on land. His head spun the same way it did when he had been choked for too long. Cute? He?! Had his master ever really looked at him?! “Wha- wha- wha- what?”

Amal swiped a little tear from his eye, as he grinned up at him, still giggling. “You can’t literally formulate a whole question, you know?! Just use buzzwords or the search engine gets confused.”

That wasn’t the only thing that was confused right now.

“Buzzwords, Sir?”

“Yeah.” Amal nodded. “Like: flower wreathes tutorial.”

“But, but,” Paxton gasped, flushing red like the soft new leather collar he had chosen in a tiny salacious shop with his master yesterday. “That would, would be utterly impolite.” His voice dropped into a whisper. “I behave improperly enough as it is.”

“Hey.” Amal’s hand came up and cupped his cheek, turning Paxton’s head gently to face him. He melted into the tender caress, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he willed himself to meet his master’s soft smile. “You’re perfect, okay?! And besides, it’s impossible to be impolite to a computer program. So would you try again? For me?”

It was not fair. How could he ever deny his master if he asked like this?! Now it dawned on Paxton why Amal didn’t use any form of punishment or disciplinary measures. His master simply didn’t need to, with his dark big eyes blinking up at him like this, his full lips curved into an encouraging smile. Paxton knew he would cut his own hands open without hesitation if Amal would wish for it, so what was ignoring his training to always remain polite compared to that?!

Taking a deep breath he whispered, “Flower wreaths tutorial,” and just like his master had promised it worked. Amal rubbed soft circles in his back as pictures of artfully arranged flowers appeared on the screen. “See? I told you you’re perfect.”

Buzzing under his master’s praise, Paxton felt his own words vibrate in his chest, shatter some invisible barriere with the force of the first brick thrown June 28, 1969. A grin revealed a flash of white teeth as he whispered, “I did it.”

#paxton and amal series #paxton and amal #paxton the box boy #Box Boy #boxboy #boxboys #box boys #box boy universe #box boy whump #bbu #WRU #wru the series #pet whump #whump #trauma recovery #tw past abuse

67 notes · View notes

valeriethepussycats · 4 years

Text

I’m Only Human

Chapter 1

Pairing- Loki x Mutant Reader, Thor x Mutant Reader(Best friends)

Warning- cursing

H/c- hair color

Puente Antiguo,New Mexico

The Suv sits parked in the desert. Suddenly, the roof panel of the Suv FoldOpen. The underside of the panels house a variety of hand-built Astronomical Devices, which now point at the sky. Jane Foster pops her head through the roof. She positions a Magnetometer, so its monitor calibrates with the constellations above. It appears to be cobbled together from spare parts of other devices. “Hurry!” Jane Insisted. Hearing a loud Bang followed by muffled cursing from below. Jane offers a hand down to Erik Selvig who emerges as well, rubbing his head.”Oh-- watch your head.”

“Thanks. So what's this "anomaly" of yours supposed to look like?” Erik wondered.

“Hopefully you only get a headache from how hard you hit your head” Y/n Munroe giggled as she opens the back door of the suv and jump out.

“ Explain to me why you’re here again” Erik murmured.

“ If I remember correctly you found me and asked if I could be your assistant.” Y/n proclaimed flipping her white and h/c out her face.

“It’s a little different each time. Once it looked like, I don't know,melted stars, pooling in a corner of the sky. But last week it was a rolling rainbow ribbon--"Racing "˜round Orion?" I've always said you should have been a poet.” Erik joked.

Jane reigns in her excitement. She tries for dignity. “Hey, Darcy. Pass up the bubbly and my gloves, will you?.” Jane asked. The Intern Darcy Lewis hands Jane a bottle of Champagne and a pair of gloves through the window. Jane passes it to Selvig to hold while she pulls on the old gloves -- too large and masculine for her small hands. He starts to unwrap the foil, and she stops his hand with an excited grin.”Not until you see it!”

“I recognize those. Think how proud he'd be to see you now.”Erik shared.

Jane's grin fades to a sad smile.”Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The benefit of the doubt.”The three stare out at the sky expectantly. A long beat while they scan the skies. Nothing. Jane's worried. “It's never taken this long before.”

Darcy calls up from the front seat. “Can I turn on the radio?”

“Sure, if you like rocking out to KFRM,All agriculture, all the time. Worried, Jane heads back down into the vehicle.

Y/n walks up to Suv window “Don’t worry everything will work out”Y/n told Jane with a small smile.

The SUV is bathed in the glow of high-tech monitorin equipment and laptops, some looking like they're held together with duct tape. Jane opens a well-worn notebook of handwritten notes and calculations. Selvig watches the frustrated Jane with sympathy.

“The anomalies are always precipitated by geomagnetic storms.”Jane began. She shows Erik and Y/n a complicated chart she's drawn in the book, tracking occurrences and patterns.”The last seventeen occurrences have been predictable to the minute... I just don't understand.”she pondered.

Something catches Darcy's eye out the driver's side mirror. She adjusts it. In the distance, Odd Glowing cloud form in the skies over the Northeastern end of the desert. “Jane?” Darcy calls small panicky voiceJane shushes her, leafs through her notes. The bottle of champagne begins to vibrate.

“There's got to be some new variable... Or an equipment malfunction.” Jane wonders.The lights and equipment in the Suv begin to Flickr around them. The computer monitors squelch with static.

“I don't think there's anything wrong with your equipment...” Darcy stated.

The champagne bottle starts to Rattles noisily now as it shakes more violently. Jane,Y/n and Selvig notice.They watch it curiously, pressure building up inside it, when the cork explodes out of it. Champagne goes spewing everywhere -- over equipment, over Jane. “Jane?”

“What?!”Jane snapped.

“I think you want to see this.”Darcy points out the window. Jane,Y/n and Selvig look out. Over the desert Massive rainbow cloud Churn in the sky. The three stare, dumbfounded.

“Holy Shit” Y/n swore.

“Holy. Shatner.” Jane blurted.

“That's your "subtle" aurora?!” Erik teased.

“No-- yes! Let's go!” Jane noted.

“See patience is a virtue” Y/n called out as she is standing in the middle of it all.

The roof panels still open, the Suv races towards the strange event, Jane, amazed by the sight, stands with half her body out the roof, taking video of the light storm before them.

The SUV hits a bump. Jane nearly flies out but Selvig grabs her, yanks her back in.

“Y/n gets to be out there and I can’t” Jane grins, thrilled, pumped with adrenaline

“ Well Y/n is not like us” Erik replied.

.”Isn’t this great?!”Jane started with excitement in her voice. A thought strikes her.”You’re seeing it too, right? I'm not crazy?

“That's debateable. Put your seat belt on!” Erik encouraged Jane. Winds howls around the SUV now. Up ahead, spiraling down from out of the clouds comes -- an Enormous tornadoSuffuse with the strange rainbow light, roaring like a thousand freight trains as it touches down.

“Are you doing this!” Erik yelled at Y/n .

“Erik I can change the weather not make a Rainbow tornados.” Y/n yells at in a dry tone.

Selvig looks up through the still-open sunroof at the enormous glowing funnel cloud with wonder. Jane clambers into the front seat, beside Darcy. She leans way out the window, Taping the storm.

“You've gotta get us closer so I can take a magnetic reading.” Jane Announced.

Darcy laughs.”Yeah, right! Good one.”Pauses.“Oh God, you're serious...”

“You want those college credits or not?” Jena noted.

Erik yells out to Y/n” we’re going to get closer!”

” OK I’ll catch up!” Y/n yells back at Erik as she stands in the middle of the desert watching this mystical tornado.

The SUV tears across a field towards the tornado, Jane leaning out the window, taping the event. The Suv disturbs two ravens perched on a cactus as they race past. The birds take flight, when -- KRAKABOOM! A huge bolt of lightningstrikes down through the center of the funnel cloud before them with a terrifying intensity. The Suv rocks from the blast. Darcy's had enough. She turns the wheel, starts to head away”Keep the credits. I'll intern at Burger King.”Darcy voiced.

“What are you doing?!” Jane yelped.

“Saving our lives!”

Jane grabs the wheel, jerks it hard the other way. They struggle for control, when the headlights fall on a man.Directly in their path, stumbling through the winds. Darcy slams on the brakes, Jane turns the wheel hard to avoid him.The SUV swerves but too late. The side of the SUV slams into the man with a Thud, sending him flying. The car skids to a stop.

Y/n flies over to see what all the commotion is about. “What’s going on” Y/n wondered but sees a man unconscious on the groundA paralyzed moment, then they all leap out of the car. Jane, Darcy, and Selvig trade shocked looks, breathing hard.They peer through the dust clouds, unable to see through The four of them race from the SUV with flashlights. Jane spots the man lying on the ground. He's dressed in tattered clothing,charred and blackened.

“I think that was legally your fault.”Darcy claimed to Y/n in a very convincing voice.

“Get the first aid kit.” Jane urged anyone who was listening.

Darcy heads back inside the SUV as Jane, concerned, kneels next to the man. Selvig and Y/n hovers, protectively. She gently turns his head to the light, and we see him clearly for the first time. He is magnificently handsome,long blonde hair flowing around his classically sculpted Features. She cups her hands around his face, as if willing the life back into him.

“Come on, big guy. Do me a favor and don't be dead, okay? Open your eyes and look at me.”Jane wheedled.

Suddenly, he groans, and she's startled, then relieved, as his eyes flutter open. She looks deep into his confused, azure eyes, which at last focus on her own. Locking onto them.For a moment, they each forget to breathe. The connection is broken as Darcy returns with the kit. She freezes when she sees how gorgeous the man is.

“Wow. Does he need CPR? Because I know CPR.” Darcy Chimed in.

A flustered Jane smooths her hair and sits back on her heels. She looks up at Selvig. Back to being a scientist.

“His eyes-“Jane started.

“Are beautiful-.” Darcy in a voice soft with affection.

“ -Are dilating. That's a good praised sign. Jane said with a note of relief.

“We still have to get him to a hospital.” Erik disclosed.

“After we get a reading on the storm?”Jane answered.

“Immediately Jane” Erik insisted.

“Guys this is my forte I’ll stop the storm then we can take this guy hospital” Y/n put forth as she holds out her hands eyes turning white. Jane,Darcy and Erik watching the storm evaporate above their heads.

“Where did he come from? “They exchange puzzled looks, as we move up through the last glowing remnants of the storm. Earth spins slowly before us as we hear a voice, deep and resonant -- the voice of Heimdall Gatekeeper of Asgard. “Questions, they've always asked questions -- this race called man, on this planet they call earth.Passionately longing to know how they are connected to the heavens. We pull away from the planet, widening, past other worlds, cosmic debris -- leaving first our solar system, then out . In ages past, they looked to us as gods, for indeed so many times we saved them from calamity. We tried to show them how their world was but one of the Nine realms and in the Nine realms is a planet called a Asgard.” Beautiful beyond imagination. We fly over the magnificent

landscape of the Realm, through the gleaming capital city, modern yet timeless. The palace rises countless stories tall, gleaming with an other-worldly majesty, towering high above the Realm sprawled out before it. We move towards a large window of the palace, where a Figure stands. Odin Stares out at his kingdom. The ravens fly up to the balcony,land at his side.

Odin turns away from the window. His wife Frigga sits at a vanity and tries different earrings before the mirror.

“Do you think he's ready?” Odin wonder.

“He thinks he is. He has his father's confidence.”Frigga replies.

“He'll need his father's wisdom.” Odin told Frigga.”And his humility?” She remarked

Odin makes a face at this wife. “Thor won't be alone. Loki will be at his side to give him counsel.Have faith in your sons.” Frigga pointed out.

“Yes, but Thor's still a boy. He could be a great King...” Odin stops, notices his hand shaking. It seems to be out of synch temporally with the rest of the world, leaving a trail as it moves. He stares at it determinedly, concentrating,trying to stop the strange event through the force of his sheer will.Finally, the occurrence subsides, his hand normal once more. A worried Frigga covers his hand with her own.

“...if we only had more time.” He whispered.

“ For once, our son needs something we cannot provide.”She voiced.

“I can fight it a little longer...” he murmured

“No. You've put it off too long! I worry for you.” She said with a fond look.

Odin touches her cheek.”I've destroyed demons and monsters,devastated whole worlds, laid waste to mighty kingdoms, and still you worry for me?”Odin said in a voice soft with affection.

“Always.”

“Not today. Now come kiss your king... while I'm still king.” He pulls her close, and they kiss.

Directly under the throne room, a gloomily lit hall. Banners hang on either side to form a corridor down the middle of the fire lit room. Giant doors open at one end. A huge figure silhouetted against the bright light beyond walks forward. In slo-mo, we recognize the unmistakable shape of the God of Thunder. Hammer in hand, he reaches the end of a raised platform. An attendant hands the figure a goblet of wine. He downs it quickly, hurls it towards the fire directly below.

“Another!” The cup smashes, the alcohol causes the fire to glow intensely -- and, for a moment, brightly lit, and seen full length, like a King to be, is The mighty Thor. He proceeds down stops, past camera, and down the center of the Hall.

We follow from behind and see at the other end, massively shadowed on one of the great banners, the shape of two great horns. As Thor approaches, the horn shapes move, and then, from the shadows at the side, emerges Loki, wearing his horned headpiece. Like Thor, he is dressed for a great ceremony. They stand by a brazier at the foot of steps that lead up to the crowded throne room.

“Nervous, brother?” Loki asked Thor.

“Have you ever known me to be nervous?” Thor grinned.

“There was the time in Nornheim...”Loki Trailed off.

“That wasn't nerves, brother. I was the rage of battle. How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive?” Thor replied to Loki as The Attendant approaches with another goblet of wine for Thor.

“As I recall, I was the one who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape.”Loki put forth.

“Some do battle, others just do tricks.

The Attendant stifles a laugh. Loki notices, doesn't like it. He gestures towards the goblet in the Attendant's hand. Eeels pour over the sides of the goblet, slithering out and across the terrified Attendant's hand. He scream, hurls the goblet to the ground. Loki chuckles.

“Loki...” Thor warned Loki. Loki gestures to the writhing eels on the ground. They turn back to spilled wine, the illusion shattered. “Now that was just a waste of good wine.”

“Just a bit of fun.” Loki said to the Attendant.” Right, my friend?”The Attendant isn't so sure. Thor dons his Eagle winged helmet.

“Nice feathers.” Loki told Thor about his helmet.

“You don't really want to start this again, do you, Cow?” Thor teased Loki.

“I was being sincere!” Loki Announced.

“You're incapable of sincerity.” Thor proclaimed to Loki.

“Am I?” Loki replied. He looks his brother in the eye, all pretense lost.”I've looked forward to this day as long as you have. You're my brother and my friend. Sometimes I'm envious, but never doubt that I love you.”

Thor searches his brother's face, sees no trace of irony. He's either speaking from his heart or he's a very, very good liar. Maybe both. Thor puts an appreciative hand on his brother's shoulder.

“Thank you.” The two brothers take in the moment a beat, then.

“Give us a kiss.” Loki teased Thor.

“Stop.” Thor makes the final adjustments to his ceremonial wear. “How do I look?” Thor questioned Loki.

“Like a king.” Loki shared as They hear the blast of a ceremonial Horn.”It's time.”

“You go ahead.” Loki casts him a wary look.”I'll be along. Go on.” Thor disclosed in a casual tone. Loki heads inside the palace without his brother.

Volstagg combs his great beard in preparation for the big event. As he does, he's surprised to find a stray grape stuck in the beard. He pulls it out, looks around, then eagerly pops it into his mouth and gobbles it down. Fandral checks his reflection in a mirror, smooths out his moustache, gives himself a dashing smile. A Pretty Maiden holds the mirror before him, as other Maidens look on dreamily.

“Thank you, love.” Fandral said in a flirtatious way the Maidens. ”Now who'd like to polish my sword for me?” Fandral Announced and the giddy Maidens eagerly raise their hands.

Hogun stands staring ahead grimly, his hands folded in front of him, amidst the hustle and bustle of the attendants and the ceremony preparations going on around him. A Helpful attendants approaches him and starts to polish his armor. Hogun turns his head, gives him a look. Intimidated, the Attendant quickly backs away. From behind, we see a Woman In ceremonial Armor take off her Sword and set it on a table, then her Shield, then several Hidden Daggers and small, yet intimidating Weapons . We reveal that it's Sif, looking radiant. She eyes the weapons on the table.

“I'll miss you.” Sif whimpered to her weapons.

Colorful ceremonial Banners of the Nine Realms adorn the room, crowded with Aesir and representatives from across Yggdrasil, all Buzzing with excitement. Thor's Comrades enter and stride to their place of honor at the front of the hall. They are... The Warriors Three.

Volstagg has the girth and strength of a Sumo wrestler, with oversized passions to match. Fandral, the consummate swashbuckler, is agile, charismatic, and nattily dressed. Hogun-- dark, sullen, brooding -- a large mace slung at his side. With them walks the warrior maiden Sif. She's clad in armor,a shield and sword at her side -- a beauty not to be trifled with.

“I hope this goes quickly. I'm famished.” Volstagg grinned.

“Noooo!” Fandral squeaked.

Are you attached to that pretty face of yours? Because one more word, and you won't be. Volstagg commented.

“My, we are hungry, aren't we?” everyone laughs except Hogun.

Fandral turns to him.”Go on, Hogun. Smile. You can do it. Even you, Hogun the Grim. Just one smile.” Fandral urged Hogun who just stares at him grimly. “All right, half a smile. Look,forget the smile, just show some teeth.” Fandral made public.

“Fandral, is it true the famous Warriors Three are ready to meet any challenge?” Sif asked.

“Name it, Lady Sif.”Fandral insisted.

“Keep your mouth shut.” Sif teased.

Imposing Einherjar Guards clad in armor, swords at the ready,stand watch inside the massive underground structure beneath the palace. A cold Breeze blows past them. Thor stands, his fingers nervously drumming the handle of his hammer. Frigga approaches behind him, sees his anxiety.

“It's all right to be nervous.” Frigga chimed in.

Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not nervous!” Thor proclaimed in a Casual tone.

“You may be able to fool the rest of Asgard-

“...But never you. I know.”

“Thor, just remember that you have something even the great Allfather never had.”

“And what is that?”

“Me for a mother.” She smiles.”Now don't keep your father waiting.” Frigga told Thor then leaves.

Sif and the Warriors Three still wait before the crowd. Loki and Frigga enter.

“ There’s something I have to tell you after the ceremony it is very important” Frigga shared with Loki.

“I will mother” Loki agreed as he takes his place at the front of the Phall alongside the others. With another blast of the horn,the crowd goes silent as the Einherjar honor Guards moves into formation. They part to reveal Odin sitting atop his throne, clad in full ceremonial armor. He holds his spear Gungnir before him. Any trace of weakness in him is gone now. He exudes all the power and majesty of a Ruler of Asgard. Frigga joins him at his side. He looks around the hall, casts a glance over to the Warriors. Thor is nowhere to be seen. Odin looks to Loki. Loki shrugs. Odin isn't pleased.A murmur spreads through the crowd.

“Where is he?.” Volstagg asked Loki.

“He said he'd be along.” Loki replied. Sif realizes the truth, shakes her head in disapproval.

“What?” Volstagg questioned Sif.

“He wants to make an entrance.” Sif told Volstagg.

“Well, if he doesn't show up soon,he shouldn't bother. Odin looks like he's ready to feed him to his ravens.” Fandral commented.

“I wouldn't worry. Father will forgive him. He always does.” Loki replied.

Just then, at the back of the hall, up the steps from the lower level Mjolnir Roars up into the hall, Thor strides cockily into the hall behind it, catching it behind his back. The Crowd erupts in Cheers. Thor spins his hammer with a flourish, holds it up before the crowd, basking in the moment, relishing the adoration, whipping his audience up into a frenzy.

“Oh, please.” Sif murmured.

Odin watches from the front, not liking this showy display. As the sound of the cheers echo from above, the odd, cold breeze picks up in the Vault. The Guards rub their limbs to warm themselves. They grow increasingly uneasy, sensing something's not right. They exchange a look, then walk the length of the Vault's hallway to its end, where a Casket sits undisturbed upon a pedestal. Large shadows suddenly loom over them. They look up and Shout in terror as they raise their weapons.Thor finishes stirring up the crowd, then reaches the front of the room, kneels on one knee before his mother and father. Frigga casts him an admonishing glance. Thor winks up at her. She can't help but smile. Odin strikes Gungnir upon the ground with a deafening Boom.

The crowd falls silent. Odin speaks with quiet, effortless authority. He raises Gungnir before him.

“Gungnir. Its aim is true, its power strong. With it I have defended Asgard and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms since the time of the Great Beginning. And though the day has come for a new King to wield his own weapon - that duty remains the same. Thor Odinson, my heir, my first-born.”Pauses.” So long entrusted with this mighty hammer, Mjolnir. Forged in the heart of a dying star, from the sacred metal of Uru. Only one may lift it. Only one is worthy. Who wields this hammer commands the lightning and the storm. Its power has no equal -- as a weapon, to destroy, or as a tool, to build. It is a fit companion for a King.” Odin proclaimed.

The bodies of the Guards are flung to the Vault's floor, now strewn with ice. We don't see their attackers clearly, just catch glimpses of them in the shadows -- but they are large and blue-skinned. One of the creatures lifts the Casket off its stand and turns to go. But, as they do, the intricate latticework behind the Casket starts to separate and retract, revealing something standing in the shadows behind it. As the creatures walk away, a fiery glow rises behind them. They turn back around. Now it's their turn to Scream.

The Ceremony continues.

“Today I entrust you with thegreatest honor in all the Nine Realms. The sacred throne of Asgard. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. So, too, must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace. Responsibility, duty, honor. These are not merely virtues to which we must aspire. They are essential to every soldier and to every King.” Odin declared.

The Crowd and the Warriors Three start to shiver and rub their limbs for warmth in the increasingly cold air of the hall. Thor turns back to face his father. Odin looks upon his son with pride.

“Thor Odinson, do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?”Odin questioned Thor

“I swear.” Thor replied.

“Do you swear to preserve the peace?”

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself only to the good of all the Realms?”

“I swear!” Thor yells in excitement.

“Then on this day, I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you--“Odin hesitates, noticing a strange sight before him. Ice creeps across the surface of the large banners around the hall, making an eerie CRACKING sound. Thor, his comrades, and the crowd see it too.

“Frost giants...” Odin commented.

Part 2

A/n- Reader was born 1986 of your birth day and month.

I don’t own nothing all rights go to Marvel for this story.

#thor x reader #loki x reader #marvel x reader #loki x black!reader

68 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #326

“life by life / waste to waste / i'm the harbinger: the master of decay”

When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Do you mean like, for the wedding? Probably the venue. Or possibly the photographer. Have you ever had a teacher that also taught your parents? No. What’s something you complain about frequently? My legs. Are you afraid of falling in love? Very. Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? Not very. Do you hate it when people smoke around you? Very much so. Do you own anything that is special edition? Yeah, things like DVDs. Do you have any funky bookmarks? I have this one meerkat bookmark where the image moves when you tilt it. Did you ever watch Pokemon? Hell yeah I did. Are there more females or males in your family? Females. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? My mom does due to having gerd. Dad did too when I actually lived with him. I wouldn't know nowadays. Do you own a camera tripod? Yes. Did you ever believe in mermaids? No. Have you ever purchased alcohol? Yes. Any essential quirks/interests/other you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? Similar interests, like being a metal fan and gamer especially, as well as a serious animal lover for sure. Any romantic gestures you really like? Okay if someone did that little bow thing while reaching out for my hand to dance, I'd melt, lol. I also appreciate love interests holding open doors, SHOWING INTEREST IN HOW I FCKN FEEL, asking permission before doing anything in sexual exploration, stuff like that. Any sexual fantasies? Are you daring enough to share one? Yep, not sharing those lmfao. Have you ever been in love? Twice. What is your favorite/least favorite word? My favorite is "serendipity/serendipitous," and my least favorite is "retarded." Have you ever been skinny dipping? No. If I actually had a body I was confident in, I probably would in privacy tho at night lmao. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? Oh yeah. What is your favorite thing to do? Probably RPing with my favorite OCs when I'm in a really creative mood and during a great scene. Did you go to your senior prom? Yeah, I did. Prom's honestly pretty damn overrated, but I did it and his senior prom anyway. It's the picking out a beautiful dress and taking pictures that I loved. What did you do after graduation? I don't remember. We probably went out to eat or something. Favorite home cooked meal growing up? Spaghetti. What item most embarrasses you to purchase? Nothing, really. Do you give cards to people for holidays or events? No. Name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents. Uhhhhh idk. Name two things you put whipped cream on? I hate the texture of whipped cream. Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? Sometimes if I want a snack but am trying to be healthy-ish, I'll eat just a scoop. What was the last pill you took for? Pain. Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? Loose, 100%. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? Meerkats grooming. I did it in high school on a large piece of burlap. Are there any songs that remind you of your mother? "Take It Like a Woman" by Alice Cooper, for one. How did your elementary school teachers describe you? Very smart, sweet, friendly, and nice. Game you were best at in PE/gym? Pf, none. Obsession from childhood? Dinosaurs and Pokemon. Best way for someone to bond with you? Let's talk about deep stuff regarding the world or about how awesome animals are. Top 5 favorite Vines? Oh boy. There are just way too many. I'll try to name a few: 1.) the "I can't find my berries" saga guy; 2.) *in drive-thru, asked what he would like to order* "I wanna FUCKIN DIE"; 2.) "i cOUldA DROPpeD my CroISSAnt"; 3.) "it's Wednesday, m'dudes"; 4.) "a d a m"; 5.) "I WON'T HESITATE, BITCH." God, I miss Vine. What is the first meme you remember seeing? Holy cow, I have no idea. Sci-fi, fantasy, or superheroes? Fantasy. Favorite tradition? Dressing up for Halloween, even though I don't do it anymore... Talent you’re proud of having? Writing. Favorite website from your childhood? Webkinz was unbeatable. I was obsessed. Any good luck charms? I don't believe in those. Favorite potato food? French fries. Tell me the color of your eyes, without using the name of a color: Uhhhh a cloudy sky right before rain? Ever been through a goth phase? Goth is my fucking AESTHETIC. I wish I could afford a truly gothic wardrobe, because you bet your sweet ass it's all I'd wear out. Can you remember your first phone? If so, what kind was it? I think so? It was a Blueberry, I believe. Who is your favourite character from Alice in Wonderland? Obviously the Cheshire cat. What is your favorite type of YouTube video to watch? Lately, it's been tarantula and snake channels/pet YouTubers. I still think my overall favorites are let's plays, but right now it's just stepping back a bit. What’s the next project you are excited to start? I have this pretty cool drawing I wanna do of a morbid meerkat doing a big toothy smile, doing a peace sign (but his fingers are syringes) with a crown blinking over his head. Inspired by the "Professional Griefers" lyric of "lab rat king." I just really wanna make it perfect and am procrastinating in fear of failing... Have you ever experienced a miracle? I don't think I believe in miracles. What are your top three names you like for a daughter? Alessandra, Justine, and Chloe, to name a few. Which did you like better: high school or college? High school, at least in most ways. What is the theme of your bedroom? It doesn't have a theme. My interests just kinda threw up everywhere, haha. Have you ever lived in a dorm? No. Were you raised religious? Yes. Do you do your own taxes, or do you hire a professional? I don't have to do taxes yet. What was the very first thing you ever saved up to buy with your own money? Venus was the first big thing, I think. Describe your favorite Christmas ornament: I don't know what that would be, honestly. We have so very many. What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up? Dad's always been a mailman, and he also had a second job as a carpenter for a while. Mom worked with special needs children at my elementary school as a teacher assistant. She also worked at the hospital at one point, doing some computer work. I don't remember her actual position. Are you taller than your mom? We're the same height. Would you marry someone if they were unable to have sex? Sure, that's not a big deal to me. Last reason you went to the ER? For myself, a suicide attempt/overdose. What was the last word document you typed? This survey, actually, so I could save progress as I combine them. What’s something you don’t think people take seriously enough? Global warming. Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? No. What was the last fruit or vegetable you chopped/sliced up? An apple. I wanted apple slices with peanut butter. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? Holy SHIT that is impossible. Maybe the devil cakes, but I really don't know. I love most of them. Do you/your family buy loaf from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? Bagged. White, wheat or other? Mom buys white bread, but my favorite is pumpernickel. What was the last non-fiction book you’ve read? (Not a school textbook!): I ain't got a clue. I don't really read non-fiction. What color are your headphones/earbuds? These are blue. Would you be embarrassed to find out you snored loudly in public? Yep. Thankfully, I don't snore. Do you feel guilty about killing bugs? Yep. How do you feel about coconut? Not a fan. ^ Ever cracked one open? Ha, I've always wanted to. Who did you last worry about and why? My mom. She's getting a CT scan ASAP due to chronic headaches and stomach pain, so I'm worried her cancer might be re-emerging. When was the last time you ate/drank something gross just to be polite? I don't know; I struggle to do this. If I don't like something, my face shows it. I can't help it. When did you last make up a baby’s bottle? Never. Do you have any framed black & white photos in your home? Who are they of? No. What’s the most expensive thing your car needed to get done? N/A If you had a thousand dollars to spend on a pricey brand you like but can’t really afford (until now of course), which ONE brand would you chose? I don't know. Real talk, I find most luxury brands to sell pretty ugly stuff... Do you like candy canes? Yeah. Do you still talk to any of your old teachers? Yes; one is my landlord. What color was the dress you wore to your senior prom? It was black. Ever go to another school’s prom? No. Do you like burning candles or incense? I love incense. Do you ever venture into the woods? What do you normally do in there? When I used to live in the woods, I did every now and then to take pictures. Does your significant other ever make you mix CDs? Single, but that would be so romantic. /swoons How did you dress your freshman year of high school? I was this emo/metalhead/goth creature. What is the best present you have ever received? My dog Teddy. <3 What is the best present you have ever given? I put the most effort into a scrapbook thing of well over a hundred reasons I loved my then-boyfriend Jason. Even though we're done, I honestly hope he still has it, just to remember. What is the best surprise you have ever had? Sara's parents paying for a flight up there to be with Sara for her birthday. Have you ever been robbed? No, thankfully. Ever kiss someone on the first date? No. Ever sleep with someone on the first date? Definitely a nope. Ever give someone a wrong phone number on purpose? No. What’s the strangest thing you have ever witnessed firsthand? I have no idea. It's... very morbid, but possibly dogs twitching after being euthanized. Seeing Teddy do it was such a strange, painful experience. Like there was still life in there... even though I know it was just his nerves doing their final hoorah and he was already dead. Ever seen a psychiatric ward? I've been in a mental hospital five or six times, so I'm uncomfortably familiar with them. What is the last thing you did that you didn’t want to do? Group therapy. I'm really burning out on it. Thankfully, I don't have it on the weekends. What is the last thing you convinced someone else to do? I dunno. If you could live in a different time, would you? When? Nah. Do you prefer to sleep alone or with someone else? Sleeping alone is more comfortably physically, but I usually prefer sleeping with a partner because there's this amazing feeling of safety, love, and companionship. How many pillows do you sleep with? Two. Do you prefer cold air and blankets, or warm air and no blankets? Cold air and blankets by ten miles. I can't sleep if I'm even remotely hot. How often do you dust? Sigh, not as much as I need to. What is the most "extreme" activity you have ever done? I haven't done very much that fits that description... so idk. Dr. Pepper or root beer? Dr. Pepper. I hate root beer. Last room you cleaned? Mine. Last thing you did that made you feel like an adult? Checked into the doctor's office by myself, haha... Talk about sad. What’s your favorite picture of your mom? Dad? It's not my business to actually share those pictures, but I can describe them. I fucking ADORE this candid photograph I took of my mom laughing; I will forever cherish it. It's morbid to think about, but it's absolutely a picture I'll frame of her once she's passed away. I don't have many pictures of Dad, but I do really like this picture we took together at Red Lobster once. Are you subscribed to anything (Magazines, monthly boxes, streaming sites, etc.)? Mom pays an Adobe Creative Cloud photography bundle subscription for me, but that's it. Last TV show series you finished? Fullmetal Alchemist with Sara. It was a rewatch for me, but she'd never seen it. What’s something exciting that’s happened to one of your friends recently? A childhood friend got engaged a few days back. Do you have any board games? If so, where do you keep them? We have a few somewhere. What were the last things you glued together? I don’t recall. What are your friends’ pets’ names? I'll just use Sara here since she's my best friend. She has two family dogs, Buster and Beesly, a cat named Winter, four ball pythons named Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, and Jane Marie, and Doris, a bearded dragon that I personally adore most. :') What all did you do today? I played World of Warcraft early this morning, but not for very long. I've been in a phase of being very uninterested in it lately. I've mostly just done surveys... lots of surveys. I'm just in the mood to. I've also been listening to music and watching John Wolfe play Amnesia: Rebirth periodically. If you live in a house, how many floors does it have? If you live in an apartment building, how many units does it have? It's just one floor. Would you like to live in a world with mythical creatures, even if they turned out to be evil or dangerous? Honestly... I probably would, haha. Are you scared of heights? Yes. When was the last time you lost something of great sentimental value? Did you ever end up finding it again? Never, I think and hope. What food do you find to be the most filling? Is this something you eat a lot of? Eggs or oatmeal. Not really. What do you think of people who purposefully train their dogs to fight or to be aggressive? They're fucking garbage human beings. If you suffer/have suffered with acne, do you squeeze your spots or do your best to just leave them be? Ugh, I was so bad (and still am if something pops up) about picking at it. Does your father have any hobbies? What are they? Sure. He loves sports, fishing, idk if he still plays video games, fantasy football... and I can't forget playing with his grandkids. It's hard for me to know all of them when I don't live with him and see him rarely. What did the last face mask you wore look like? It was just a white cotton one. Is there a specific song that you always request at parties? What is it? I don't go to parties. Would you rather read poetry or write poetry? Write it. Have you ever had any really infected injuries? I've had infected piercings as well as a badly infected pilonidal cyst. Is there any band out there that you like every song by them? No. Are you popular on any websites? No. What was the last song you listened to? Aaaaand now I'm hooked on "NIHIL" by 3TEETH. Are you currently texting anyone right now? No. When was the last time you played jump rope? Yikes, probably not since I was a kid. I used to love it. Who was the last person you offended? I dunno. What’s the earliest you’ve ever had to wake up for work? Not early. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? I know trans people who have, yes. Do you know anyone who has been on life support and survived? No. At least, I don't believe so. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? They're divorced, and Mom at least can't stand him. Dad doesn't really care. Do you ever feel like you’re sharing too much about yourself online? Oh, I absolutely used to. I still might, idk. I've tried to reel it back some. How many windows are in the room you’re in? Eight, but they're just small, vertical rectangles stacked together, so it's not as revealing as it sounds. What was the last necklace you wore? My spiked choker, I think, for pictures. Or maybe the one I have with a bunch of big silver skulls. Do you think there are more dimensions than what we’re able to perceive? I don't think so, no. Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? My half-sister on Dad's side that I've never met. Have you ever been in an abandoned house? A shack, yeah. Do you like art? I positively adore it. I could NOT imagine life without it. How about theatre? I don't care for it. Have you ever made breakfast for someone? Yes, for Sara. Do you talk to your crush? If you have one. Yeah, she's my best fren. If yes, what do you usually talk about? Nowadays I ask her almost daily how she's doing in regards to her progress of recovering from both serious physical and mental stressors. I try to always be an available ear if she ever wants to vent. Would you rather read or watch a video about something? Watch a video. In what ways have you fulfilled some of the hopes and dreams you had as a teenager? I've fulfilled none of those. What’s one stressful thing you’ve been trying to deal with lately? How have you been dealing with it? Inexplicable, chronic boredom/serious anhedonia. I've just... put up with it. I get pleasure out of essentially nothing most days, and it sucks big time. I just try to distract myself and force myself to do things I usually love, though I've been bad about actually succeeding in making me do said stuff... Is there a regional chain of store/restaurant/etc. in your area that you feel very loyal to? MOTHERFUCKIN BOJANGLE'S, BITCH. You think YOU have good fries somewhere? Oh hunny, sit down. Oftentimes, people warn us against getting tattoos or body modifications or dying our hair unnatural colors because we could be judged poorly for them. But has a more “alternative” look ever worked out in your favor? Well, I like myself better with my piercings and tattoos, and that's all that really matters to me. Do you have any daily routine/habit of that you’re really proud of keeping up? No. .-. Pick one of the following activities to do in a forest (assume you would be equally good at each one of these): Foraging for mushrooms, identifying trees, searching for specific types of bugs, trying to build something out of fallen branches and logs. Searching for bugs w/ my camera!!! But that all sounds fun. What’s the hardest class you’ve ever taken? My most recent math course that I failed horribly.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''master of decay'' by 3teeth

2 notes · View notes

chongoblog · 4 years

Note

Sir Mr Chongo sir I was wondering how’s this quarantine affecting you? You are music man, does the bonus time help you work or hinder it for bideo gaem related reasons?

Putting this under the cut both because this gets really rambly really quick and also because it gets PRETTY venty and such, and I can imagine that sort of thing isn’t something some people need to see right now (but for anyone worried by this preface, I'm safe)

It’s been.....strange. And I’ve been completely unable to get a solid read on how life is going to be because I haven’t had a holding pattern since this whole thing started. First of all, I’m not sure how well-known this info is, but creating content for the internet is not my full-time job. I’m a software developer for a company that makes slot machines, and I help do some programming and essentially making the game mechanics work together to make the game functional. And before you shout at me because of the ethics of making gambling machines (because I’ve had multiple people do that), all I can say is....yeah, I understand, but it’s a living.

So a couple weeks ago (which feels like months at this point.....lord.....) when the social distancing got started, most people in my office started working from home. I opted not to because historically I’ve been not great at focusing on my job or job-related stuff when I’m at home. Fortunately it was easily justifiable because in our big office building there were only about 5 of us instead of the usual hundred or so. So I spent a week working alone from the office.

That week, we were informed that amidst all this mess (since the company I work for gets steady income via casinos which, spoiler alert, aren’t very popular right now), instead of getting direct pay cuts, we would have a furlough schedule. Essentially, every four weeks, we would have a week where we don’t work and ergo don’t get paid. Kinda like an unemployment free trial.

Right now, I’m in the middle our first furlough week. I’m home under quarantine with nothing but free time. And what kinda sucks is that I was sincerely hoping that I would have this free week to work on one of the big crazy projects I’ve wanted to do for so long, but so far I’ve done nothing but a few small things, like the April Fools Day videos and CPU Kerfuffle Lore Docs, but I guess my brain just....isn’t really making it feel rewarding for some reason. Because ironically there are projects I WANT to work on, but all my productivity and creativity is being pushed elsewhere, which is......frustrating. Like you mention I’m a music man, and I keep thinking “hey now’s my chance to do the thing and make music, you know that thing you love to do?” but every time I open up the software, my brain just stalls out. Same thing for every project I WANT to work on. And I’ve even been taking Vyvanse even though it’s furlough so why can I still not focus? Bleh....

So next week I’m gonna get started on working from home. I’m tempted to try going into the office, since I could probably get away with it? It very much is my job, and there’s probably even LESS people there, but of course I don’t know if they closed it all up yet or not. I’ll probably end up running the setup where I’m working from home and hoping for the best in terms of my level of focus.

Although a lot of what might be getting me so out of focus isn’t the quarantine. It’s just that I’m very stressed. About a whole lot of things. On the day we got assigned furlough, they had to lay off 10% of the company. In a situation like the one we’re in where I work for a company that benefits off of casinos, and the end of a legally enforced quarantine paradoxically gets farther and farther and farther away and yet every date proposed feels too soon, I can’t help but wonder if they’ll stop at just 10%. Not helped by the fact that 3% of all of America filed for unemployment over the last two weeks. And that number grew over time.

And that’s just within my personal situation. Doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to see that things aren’t going great in the world, so I won’t go into detail on that as to not repeat it all, but things kind of suck. And I’ve made the “mistake” of recently sort of becoming really into politics, which means that every day I just become angrier and angrier or more and more miserable, but ultimately more and more stressed.

And I think maybe that stress may be a part of what’s blocking me up creatively? Maybe? Who knows at this point. I’m ready for this all to be over, and not knowing when that will be is painful. And, once again, so stressful. I’ve had a stress headache every day for the last week, and I rarely got them before. I can’t look away from what’s trending on Twitter because I’d be more insane if I didn’t know what the hell is going on, but everything on there is either politics, fearmongering, or just overall terrible news. Then there are plenty of other personal things to have me stressed out.

But I want to end this on a more positive note. So I will say this much. First of all, this whole mess is showing some of the best in humanity, and it’s putting a spotlight on people that I can call heroes without a drop of irony. Doctors, Nurses, Janitors, Fast Food Workers, Garbage Workers, Postal Service, Grocery Workers, the list goes on and on of people who are doing what they can to help the world in this time of crisis, and they will be rewarded (because if they don’t, there will be enough civil unrest that they take their rewards from those who withhold them). And on a more personal note, all things considered, I’m still in a good position in terms of my job. Our team fills a helpful niche, and our ability to work from home more reliably than others is a good asset at a time like this. And even with furlough cutting my pay somewhat, I still have a good bit in savings if necessary, and we can still cover all of our bills.

The future is looking rough. It’s looking really really rough. And I know I can’t see the future, but I know that we’re going to get through it. A year from now, a changed world will look back on this as a tragedy, but we’ll be with each other as we do it, giving our close friends big hugs.

#vent #Anonymous

46 notes · View notes

toxicsquad · 4 years

Text

There is no better way to get to know someone than through a good question tag. In this case we have decided to make an Indie game dev question tag with the responses of our four developers. We hope that it will reveal many unknowns, but if you are left with any questions, do not hesitate to use our ask.

What part of game development are you responsible for?

Athe: I write and write, I melt in my seat, I correct, I cry and then I program. It’s an endless cycle. Occasionally I laugh like crazy while I eat Pringles.

Sam: I draw and color without leaving the lines (almost always) the sprites, the illustrations and the ravings that usually occur to us past 3 in the morning.

Illy: English translations.

Sher: I draw BGs

What tools do you use (hardware / software)?

Athe: Recently my desktop PC has passed away, so I’ve had to rescue my old PC from the garage. I also have a laptop that saves my life more times than I would like to admit. As for the software, I need, above all, drive documents, video editing programs, image etc (I have an Adobe package) and of course Renpy and Atom.

Sam: My main friend and companion is my tablet, a wacom intuos S (pistachio color, so cute). As programs I mainly use the Paint Tool Sai, because there is nothing in this life like its stabilizer. And less frequently than I would like (for details, texture brushes, effects ...) I also use Clip Studio Paint, which I only know how to use at about 2% of its capacity ... If someday I have time I would love to stop and learn seriously what can be done with it.

Illy: During the school year I live in a residence, so I use an old laptop, and when I return home I use a desktop computer that never has memory space. I translate the chapters in the same Atom where the complete script is and I keep them in google drive files where I share them with our beta reader. I also use editing programs like photoshop when I have to translate comics or procreate for when my artistic skills are required.

Sher: ipad+procreate+some final tweak in photoshop, I don't need much more

What is your favorite part of the job?

Athe: Would it be wrong if I say that is when we released the episode? During the whole production time everything is very stressful, there are times when it’s really uphill, but when we release a new chapter it feels soooo good. It's like saying to yourself, yeah, dammit, I can do it. Look at everything you've climbed by yourself. You're doing it right.

Sam: In general, my favorite parts are when the first scenes start to be programmed, and I can see the sprites with the backgrounds, the texts, and how the illustrations look. Everything always looks so much better when viewed in-game… I also really like being able to check out the script as it is written. And from the artistic part that concerns me, when I see that my hands capture the idea that I had in my head ... Especially in character designs.

Illy: Having to find a way to translate very spanish expressions into English, research vocabulary that I have never had to use and commenting on some translations with our beta reader (which we adore) to make it understandable without losing the original meaning.

Sher: I like to do the lineart when the sketch is complete, if I no longer have to think about anything else and it's just going through it, I find it very fun and relaxing

What is the most difficult part for you?

Athe: Offf, yes, I admit it, sometimes writing is the WORST. Other times I love it, especially when I can expand on the descriptions or stop at a part that is intimate or that I find interesting (for example, Hasiel's conversation from 6.3, small spoiler: P). But, I HATE having to paste scenes, often the protagonist moves between scenes and you always have to add lines to those transitions that really do not interest anyone, but that otherwise the text would be confusing. Anyway... It is a very wide world, with a lot of history, I have to deal with what I need readers to know to understand the facts, although sometimes it gets a bit boring.

Sam: What part does not... Rather who e.e Zihel and Ariel are a thorn in my side. Especially Zihel. I know it has to do with the fact that it has never been my strength to draw boys, and much less if they are more masculine in appearance... That's why I also suffer a lot from drawing muscles. Another thing that brings me a headache is the perspective of the illustrations. Every time I try to get out of the typical shot or poses a little... It doesn't work out.

Illy: Doughy’s stuttering ¬.¬

Sher: chairs, sofas, tables... anything with four legs is my enemy

Anything to help or encourage you while you are working?

Athe: I need music, no, seriously, I NEED IT. I’m unable to focus without it. If, on top of that, I can get what I hear to act as a sounding board for what I write, the text is a thousand times better... But the muse is a pretty bad person.

Sam: Having a show/movie in the background that entertains me. The longer the better, so I don't have to stop to think what I want to put on next.

Illy: Eating sunflower seeds to trick my brain and not be tempted to do something else that distracts me.

Sher: I try to see other artists to motivate and inspire me before I start drawing, what I find most difficult is that initial push and that is where I need the motivation, then I usually have something in the background but it is not necessary

Something that’s a pet peeve or discouraging?

Athe: Some narrative climax moments. Generally, they are not important plot moments (that is almost entirely decided), they are often small decisions to go from scene A to scene B, but I can spend a LOT of time deciding which is the fastest and best way to tie those two ends. I'm the worst.

Sam: Many times when starting, I can't get the poses to fit the way I want, for example.

Illy: Finding many parts in a row that I find especially difficult to solve and that make me believe that I have forgotten how to English properly. And looking at how many lines I still have left.

Sher: When I don't know how to fill in some area, if I see something very empty but I don't know how to solve it, I can spend days looking at the screen without being able to advance, even if I have other areas that I could do in the meantime

What is required on your table or work surface?

Athe: Notebooks, sticky notes, pens… I’m a person who writes everything down, especially the tasks, but I also order the story by color schemes. The stack of sticky notes have 9 different colors, each one represents a character and I play a lot with them for a lot of nonsense. Besides, even though I have been writing on the computer for many more years than I wrote by hand, I still have a preference for the analogical.

Sam: Coffee, sweets, chocolate, cereals... And cats.

Illy: My phone, the sunflower seeds, a Capital America: Civil War 1L water cup, sticky notes that remind me of tasks.

Sher: I have nothing really lol all my things are for decoration

Your most productive hours?

Athe: Owl. Totally nocturnal. Although I have several crises a month to force myself to work at other times that always end... Wrong.

Sam: Also at night for the most part, although I can no longer stay awake as long as I endured before having a job (the good old days...) However, in the middle of the afternoon, when the zoo that I have at home is still taking a nap, I also manage to go a long way.

Illy: From when I finish eating until 7 or 8 in the afternoon, when I don't have to cook, clean, run errands...

Sher: I take over for Illy apparently, from 7 or 8 is when I start to get into the mood until bedtime

Do working hours make you forget to eat or make you eat twice as much?

Athe: It depends, in the past I ate a lot, now if I have stress I don't eat anything. If I'm in a normal productive phase and I'm not on my nerves, I'm probably eating by inertia.

Sam: They make me eat more, but especially junk food e.e And they make me forget healthy meals, especially dinner at night.

Illy: It depends on my mood, but I usually eat twice as much.

Sher: I'm generally a VERY distracted person so I don't usually get to focus on a task to get to either of those two modes but I guess when I am sooooooo much on the task, I forget. But that happens like a couple of times a year and "forgetting" is "I delay an hour."

What part of your set up would you improve / change (in aesthetics or functionality) if you had no money limit?

Athe: I'm trying to match some of my peripherals with the rest. They are all a damn different color, apparently I'm cursed... Now seriously, I wish I had a better graphic card that would allow me to make video captures, some speakers and a quality printer.

Sam: Actually, I don't think I need anything more complex than what I already have… But if I had to improve something, I'm curious about the most professional tablets, the big ones with the included screen and all that stuff.

Illy: A new laptop that lets me open 4 chrome tabs, Atom and photoshop at the same time without dying.

Sher: A pc screen that will not change the colors I use on the iPad would be nice, really

Which character are you most like? And why?

Athe: Phew I think the easy answer would be to say Akane ... But, Akane is a better person. : P

Sam: This is very difficult... They are all very different, but still I do not think I look much like any of them. If I have to say something, I could identify with Maske's tendency to avoid problems, and his more homey and calm side. And well… Since Akane has been an OC of mine for many years, surely I have something of her too.

Illy: I think I partly have Maske's instinct to stay out of trouble, and on the other hand Joe's shallowness, although tbh I wish I really did look like any of our awesome babies.

Sher: surprised because (unpopular opinion around here) is one of those who I "least care" about really but I would say that Pin because he is a little dumb, happy and probably has a Satanic room and proud of it

Favorite CG/art.

Athe: AT THE MOMENT. Maske chapter 1. It couldn't be more predictable. I know.

Sam: I quite agree with Maske in chapter 1. But I would also put Pin in chapter 5 and Akane in chapter 6.2 on the top.

Illy: Kyeran in Coco's tank ?? Is he even real? Being basic is my brand.

Sher: surprised again and disappointed but I would say that of angel Hasiel because I like pretty dresses, pretty hairs and pretty wings

Favorite BG/scene.

Athe: The Red Light District amazes me. I already liked the life of that place, its history, but the way of expressing it... Uggg Sher took it to another level. The dirt on the street, the night, the constricted buildings...

Sam: I think I’ll say Raziel’s square, I like it a lot from the first day.

Illy: I don't know if I can choose just one T__T but I would say that the Red Light District and Valefar's pub are at the top.

Sher: for not repeating the red light district that I also like very much, I really like the areas of Coco's laboratory, including the “main” area although the perspective is horrible and makes the characters look tiny, but I like how it looks :(

Your favorite chapter to date?

Athe: Ufff... The first and second one I assure you no, hahaha. I will say that the third one, but also for things that are not necessarily from the chapter, but of the production. It was a good moment. I felt that everything was flowing with ease. We all assumed a clear role, they were times that made us feel comfortable and capable of assuming what came next, I think it was a qualitative leap also, both in texts and in art.

Sam: Oh. Well let's see... Chapter 5 is amazing for me, for everything that happens but also because there are many personalized interactions and choices. I can't say I have a definitive favorite, but it could come close… Also from the last ones I really like the 6.2.

Illy: Chapter 5 has so many details, so many things happen, it's hard not to be my favorite. But the last ones with the specific routes are so great that if I stay with the 5 it’s with the pain of my heart to have to choose one.

Sher: I would say 5 also because in the end when a lot of things happen is when you remember the most

Twitter | Instagram | Itch

🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧

No hay mejor forma de conocer a alguien que a través de un buen tag de preguntas. En este caso hemos decidido hacer un Indie game dev question tag con las respuestas de las cuatro desarrolladoras. Esperamos que os aclare muchas incógnitas, pero si os quedáis con alguna no dudéis en usar nuestro ask.

¿Qué parte del desarrollo del juego llevas a cabo?

Athe: Escribo, escribo, me derrito sobre mi asiento, corrijo, lloro y después programo. Es un ciclo sin fin. Ocasionalmente me río como una demente mientras como Pringles.

Sam: Dibujo y coloreo sin salirme de las líneas (casi siempre) los sprites, las ilustraciones y los desvaríos que suelen surgir a partir de las 3 de la mañana.

Illy: Las traducciones a inglés.

Sher: Hago fonditos

¿Qué herramientas utilizas (hardware/software)?

Athe: Recientemente mi PC de sobremesa ha fallecido, así que he tenido que rescatar mi viejo PC del trastero, también tengo un portatil que me salva la vida más veces de las que me gustaría admitir. En cuanto al software, necesito, sobre todo, documentos de drive, programas de edición de video, imagen etc (tengo un paquete de Adobe) y por supuesto Renpy y Atom.

Sam: Mi principal amiga y compañera es mi tableta, una wacom intuos S (color pistacho, muy cuqui.) Como programas uso sobretodo el Paint Tool Sai, porque no hay nada en esta vida como su estabilizador. Y con menos frecuencia de lo que querría (para detalles, pinceles de texturas, efectos…) también utilizo el Clip Studio Paint, el cual sólo se usar como a un 2% de su capacidad… Si algún día tengo tiempo me encantaría pararme a aprender seriamente todo lo que se puede hacer con él.

Illy: Durante el curso vivo en una residencia, así que uso un portatil del año que reinó carolo, y cuando vuelvo a mi casa un ordenador de sobremesa que nunca tiene espacio en la memoria. Los capítulos los traduzco en el mismo Atom en el que está el guión completo y los guardo en drive donde los comparto con nuestra beta reader. También uso programas de edición como photoshop cuando tengo que traducir viñetas o procreate para cuando mis habilidades artísticas son requeridas.

Sher: ipad+procreate+algún retoquito final en photoshop no necesito mucho más

¿Cuál es tu parte de favorita del trabajo?

Athe: ¿Estaría mal si digo que es cuando sacamos el episodio? Durante toda la producción todo es muy estresante, hay veces, que se hace realmente cuesta arriba, pero cuando liberamos un nuevo capítulo sienta taaaan bien. Es como decirte a ti misma, sí, joder, puedo hacerlo. Mira todo lo que has escalado tú solita. Lo estás haciendo bien.

Sam: En general, mis partes favoritas son cuando se empiezan a programar las primeras escenas, y puedo ver los sprites con los fondos, los textos, y cómo se ven las ilustraciones. Todo queda siempre mucho mejor cuando se ve dentro del juego… También me gusta mucho poder cotillear el guión conforme se va escribiendo. Y de la parte artística que me toca, cuando veo que mis manos plasman la idea que tenía en mi cabeza… Sobretodo en diseños de personajes.

Illy: Tener que buscar la forma de traducir a inglés expresiones muy nuestras, investigar vocabulario que no he tenido que usar jamás y comentar algunas traducciones con nuestra beta reader (a la que adoramos) para conseguir que se entienda sin perder el significado original.

Sher: me gusta hacer el lineart cuando el sketch está completo, si ya no tengo que pensar nada más y es solo ir repasando me parece muy divertido y relajante

¿Cuál es la parte que más te cuesta?

Athe: Ufff, sí, lo admito, escribir a veces es lo PEOR. Otras me encanta, sobre todo, cuando puedo explayarme con las descripciones o detenerme en una parte íntima o que a mí me parece interesante (por ejemplo, la conversación de Hasiel del 6.3, pequeño spoiler :P). Pero, ODIO tener que empastar escenas, a menudo el protagonista se mueve de escenarios y hay que agregar siempre líneas a esas transiciones que realmente no interesan a nadie, pero que de lo contrario el texto quedaría mal montado. En fin… Es un mundo muy amplio, con mucha historia, tengo que lidiar con lo que necesito que los lectores sepan para entender los hechos, aunque a veces se haga un pelín peñazo.

Sam: Qué parte no… Quiénes, más bien e.e Zihel y Ariel son mi espinita. Especialmente Zihel. Sé que tiene que ver con el hecho de que nunca ha sido mi punto fuerte dibujar chicos, y menos si son de aspecto más masculino… Por eso también sufro mucho dibujando músculos. Otra cosa que me trae de cabeza es la perspectiva de las ilustraciones. Cada vez que intento salirme un poco del típico plano o poses… No sale bien.

Illy: El tartamudeo de Doughy ¬.¬

Sher: sillas, sofás, mesas… cualquier cosa con cuatro patas son mis enemigos

¿Algo que te ayude o anime mientras estás trabajando?

Athe: Necesito música, no, en serio, LA NECESITO. Soy incapaz de concentrarme sin ella. Si ya consigo que lo que escucho haga de caja de resonancia de lo que escribo, el texto es mil veces mejor… Pero la musa es bastante mala gente.

Sam: Tener alguna serie/peli de fondo que me entretenga. Cuanto más larga mejor, así no me toca pararme a ver qué es lo que quiero poner después.

Illy: Comer pipas para engañar a mi cerebro y no tener la tentación de ponerme a hacer otra cosa que me distraiga.

Sher: intento ver otros artistas para motivarme e inspirarme antes de empezar a dibujar, lo que más me cuesta es ese empujón inicial y es donde necesito la motivación, luego ya suelo tener algo de fondo pero no es necesario

¿Algo que te corte el rollo o te desmotive?

Athe: Los nudos narrativos. Generalmente, no son nudos gordos de la trama (eso está decidido casi en su totalidad), a menudo son decisiones pequeñas para pasar de la escena A a la escena B, pero puedo tirarme MUCHO tiempo decidiendo cuál es la forma más rápida y mejor planteada para atar esos dos cabos. Soy lo peor.

Sam: Muchas veces a la hora de empezar, no conseguir encajar las poses como quiero, por ejemplo.

Illy: Encontrar muchas partes seguidas que me cueste especialmente resolver y que me hacen creer que no tengo ni idea de hablar inglés. Y mirar cuantas líneas me quedan todavía.

Sher: cuando no se como rellenar alguna zona, si veo algo muy vacío pero no se como solucionarlo puedo tirarme días mirando la pantalla sin ser capaz de avanzar, incluso aunque tenga otras zonas que pudiera ir haciendo mientras

¿Qué no puede faltar en tu mesa o superficie de trabajo?

Athe: Libretas, post-its, bolígrafos… Soy una persona que lo anota todo, sobre todo, las tareas, pero también ordeno la historia por esquemas de colores. La pila de post-its tienen 9 colores diferentes, cada uno representa un personaje y juego mucho con ellos para miles de idioteces. A parte, a pesar de que llevo muchos más años escribiendo a ordenador de los que escribí a mano, sigo teniendo querencia a lo físico.

Sam: Café, chucherías, chocolate, cereales… Y gatos.

Illy: El móvil, las pipas, un vaso de 1L de agua de Capital America: Civil War, post-its que me recuerdan las tareas.

Sher: no tengo nada realmente lol todas mis cosas son de adorno

¿Tus horas más productivas?

Athe: Búho. Nocturna totalmente. A pesar de que tengo varias crisis al mes para forzarme a trabajar a otras horas que acaban siempre… Mal.

Sam: También por la noche en su mayoría, aunque ya no aguanto trasnochando tanto como antes de trabajar (qué tiempos aquellos…) Aunque a media tarde cuando el zoo que tengo en casa aún está echando la siesta también consigo dar un buen empujón.

Illy: Desde que acabo de comer hasta las 7 o las 8 de la tarde, cuando no tengo que cocinar, limpiar, hacer recados...

Sher: le tomo el testigo a Illy aparentemente, a partir de las 7 u 8 es cuando empiezo a entrar en el mood hasta que llega la hora de dormir

¿Las horas de trabajo hacen que te olvides de comer o te hacen comer el doble?

Athe: Depende, antes comía mucho, ahora, si tengo estrés no como nada. Si me encuentro en un rango productivo normal y no estoy de los nervios, probablemente, esté comiendo por inercia.

Sam: Me hacen comer más, pero sobretodo porquerías e.e Y hacen que me olvide de las comidas sanas, sobretodo de cenar por la noche.

Illy: Depende de mi estado de ánimo, pero normalmente comer el doble.

Sher: en general soy una persona MUY distraída así que no suelo conseguir centrarme en una tarea para llegar a ninguno de esos dos modos pero supongo que cuando estoy muuuuuuy dentro de la tarea, me olvido. Pero eso pasa como un par de veces al año y “olvido” es “lo retraso una hora”.

¿Qué parte de tu set up mejorarías/cambiarías (en estética o funcionalidad) si no tuvieses límite de dinero?

Athe: Estoy tratando de que alguno de mis periféricos peguen con el resto. Todos son de un maldito color diferente, al parecer estoy maldita… Ahora en serio, desearía tener una mejor gráfica que me permitiese hacer videocapturas, unos altavoces y una impresora de calidad.

Sam: En realidad, no creo que necesitara nada más complejo de lo que ya tengo… Pero por mejorar, me llaman la atención las tabletas más profesionales, las grandes con la pantalla incluida y eso.

Illy: Un portátil nuevo que me deje abrir 4 pestañas de chrome, el Atom y photoshop al mismo tiempo sin quedarse tieso.

Sher: Una pantalla de pc que no me cambiara los colores que uso en el ipad seria bonito la verdad

¿A qué personaje te pareces más? ¿Y por qué?

Athe: Ufff Creo que la respuesta fácil sería decir Akane… Pero, Akane es mejor persona. :P

Sam: Esto es muy complicado… Son todos muy distintos, pero aún así no creo que me parezca mucho a ninguno. Por decir algo, me podría identificar con la tendencia a evitar problemas de Maske, y su lado más casero y tranquilo. Y bueno… Dado que Akane es OC mío de hace muchos años, seguramente tenga algo de ella también.

Illy: Creo que en parte tengo el instinto de alejarme de las movidas de Maske, y por otro la superficialidad de Joe, aunque tbh ojalá parecerme realmente a nuestros bebés geniales.

Sher: sorprendida porque (unpopular opinión por aquí) es de los que “menos me importan” realmente pero diría que Pin porque es tontito, feliz y probablemente tenga una habitación satánica y orgulloso de ello

Tu CG/arte favorito.

Athe: DE MOMENTO. Maske capítulo 1. No podría ser más predecible. Lo sé.

Sam: Coincido bastante en la de Maske del capítulo 1. Pero también metería en el top la de Pin del capítulo 5 y la de Akane del capítulo 6.2.

Illy: ¿¿Kyeran en el tanque de Coco?? ¿Es siquiera real? Ser básica es mi marca.

Sher: sorprendida de nuevo y decepcionada pero diría que la de Hasiel de ángel porque me gustan los vestidos bonitos, los pelos bonitos y las alas bonitas

Tu BG/escenario favorito.

Athe: Me flipa el Barrio Rojo. Me gusta la vida de ese sitio, su historia, pero la forma de plasmarlo… Uggg Sher lo llevó a otro nivel. La suciedad de la calle, la nocturnidad, los edificios constreñidos...

Sam: Creo que me quedo con el de la plaza de Raziel, me gusta mucho desde el primer día.

Illy: No sé si puedo elegir solo uno T__T pero diría que el Barrio Rojo y el bar de Valefar están en el top.

Sher: por no repetir el barrio rojo que también me gusta mucho, me gustan mucho las zonas del laboratorio de Coco, incluida la zona “principal” aunque la perspectiva sea horrible y haga a los pj parecer diminutos, pero me gusto como quedo :(

¿Tu capítulo favorito hasta las fecha?

Athe: Ufff… El uno y el dos os aseguro que no, jajaja. Diré que el tres, pero también por cosas que no son necesariamente del capítulo, sino de la producción. Fue un buen momento. Sentí que todo estaba fluyendo con facilidad. Todas asumimos un rol claro, unos tiempos que nos hacían sentir cómodas y capaces de asumir lo que venía después, creo que fue un salto cualitativo también, tanto en los textos, como en el arte.

Sam: Ay. Pues a ver… El capítulo 5 es una pasada para mi, por todo lo que pasa pero también porque hay muchas interacciones personalizadas y elecciones. No puedo decir que tenga un favorito definitivo, pero podría acercarse… También me gusta mucho de los últimos el 6.2.

Illy: El capítulo 5 tiene tantos detalles, pasan tantas cosas, que es difícil que no sea mi favorito, pero los ultimos de rutas específicas son tan geniales que si me quedo con el 5 es con un poco de dolor de tener que elegir uno.

Sher: Diría el 5 también porque al final cuando pasan muchas cosas es cuando mas se te queda grabado

Twitter | Instagram | Itch

#chr 4012 #Chronicles from 4012 #otome #otome game #visual novel #vndev #vn #indie dev #indie game #gamedev #tumblronday

6 notes · View notes

mcrmadness · 4 years

Text

I was writing elsewhere about why I don’t relate to he most common Asperger’s traits and why do I think I have a logic explanation to everything they think makes me an asperger, and the text got so long I might as well just copypaste some of that on here:

It's also so hard to find any good list of Asperger’s symptoms because almost every list says "may or may not be like this", and I definitely am missing the core symptoms of Asperger's and autism. I only relate to those symptoms that are present in both, Asperger's/autism AND adhd, and then to symptoms found in ADD but not only in Asperger's/autism.

I also lack anything from childhood that makes a kid a typical autistic kid. And many things that I share with autistic people I can already explain with other things like my personality, e.g.:

I don't like people because I'm an introvert, not because I'm not neurotypical; and I'm aroace which is why my interests are more important to me than human relationships.

I don't look people in the eye because I am highly sensitive person and an introvert. I also have lots of traumas from other people which makes me act like that because I still basically expect people to start shouting at me or something out of blue, so I'm sometimes acting the same way as a dog that has been beaten too many times and can no longer trust humans.

And this can be easily seen as weird and antisocial when I'm looking at the walls and ceiling and everything else but the person I'm talking to, it just helps me concentrate when I can stare at something that gives my eyes things to do. I'd probably be counting people's nose hair and get distracted by that if I stared at them.

Being stared at overall makes me highly uncomfortable because of being an introvert and HSP.

And me being sensitive to things is also a HSP thing + migraine.

The overstimulation and sensory overload I feel because of HSP is different to those with autism. I have a filter, I can stand that into certain levels but the filters fills up faster than non-HS people’s and then I just start seeing and hearing everything. I’ve understood that people with autism don’t have this kind of filter and when they go to places with lots of stimuli happening all around, they can’t take it the second it happens. In my case I can stand it even when the filter is full but if I don’t get peace soon, I usually get irritated and eventually end up with a headache.

I just wish they would give me an opportunity to explain why I think what I think and didn't just suggest medications for this and that. I mean this psychiatrist already was talking about meds and how he could suggest me a anxiety medication and how "some medications do cause the feelings to go numb, unfortunately". Me on my ANTIDEPRESSANTS was like having depression without melancholy. I couldn’t focus even that little I now can.

How did I end up with an Asperger’s diagnosis, then? I think it’s all just a misunderstanding and professionals understanding my words the wrong way and focusing too much on how I’m on the outside rather than actually paying attention on what I say is happening inside my head. So far I've got social anxiety and generalized anxiety disorder on paper. With the latter I've been living since early childhood and I got the diagnosis when I was 28. And when I went to a psychiatrist last time with this anxiety shit (I was 22), I was desperately looking for a diagnosis with anxiety and what did I get? I got told I can't get therapy if I don't eat medications because "it does not work without meds and we don't have any resources for that", and only when I actually was so mad I finally stood up for myself and said "I'm not going to put any kind of pill into my mouth ever again so f this is all about medications, I guess we're done here." and was already ready to leave and that's when the doctor was a bit baffled and I swear she sounded a bit annoyed when she asked what would have I wanted from therapy, then.

They did not take me seriously, they saw just the social phobia that I told millions of times not being the problem. Me not leaving the house because I was so afraid of accidentally having low blood sugar was not social phobia. I wasn't afraid of people stealing my blood sugar you know??? But they thought I needed group therapy and it was the only solution and there I could also get therapy, even tho I told them I don't like forced socializing and I don't want to go there. They still booked me an appointment with people from that group therapy thing and I legit felt like we'd have sat in that meeting room for days until I'd say "okay I will try it". It literally was just them trying to talk me over to try it. And I went to this thing a couple of times until I messaged them that it's not my thing, I'm not coming there anymore and that's why they cut contact with me because I didn't accept the offered therapy method. And afterwards I went to see my information on the website with medical information and nearly fell of the chair because it said I had been diagnosed with Asperger's. With my mom we actually came to the conclusion it’s because they needed some kind of diagnosis to be done in order to get in that group therapy but I am still stuck with this stupid diagnosis that no doctor now is willing to take away! I'm sure my stubborn behaviour and "I don't like people in places like these" was what made the psychiatrist think it must be Asperger's. They were and still are only worried about people not being able to be a part of the society and an individual has to change instead of trying to make the society better place to live for everyone.

The previous doctor I had for 5 years (ages 17-22), at that time my dad was going to Asperger tests a few times and we all were certain that he has Asperger's too but nope, he doesn't. And at that time we all were also interested in knowing if I have Asperger's and I asked about it from that doctor and he immediately said nope, he doesn't think I have that at all. I also was to neuropsychiatric tests when I was 22 and there were some things, mainly about social skills and emotions and feelings and my "obsessive-compulsive" behaviour they thought supported the Asperger's. My explanations again: Social anxiety. I have problems with emotions because my dad has anger issues and I only lately realized I'm afraid to let all the feels come out because I'm afraid of losing control and accidentally hurting myself, someone else or breaking something. And I don't want that, I need to be in control of myself at all times. I also find it hard to cry because I feel like I can't cry hard enough, I should literally cry my eyes out for it to be efficient. When I thik about anger, I think I just see in my head how my dad reacts to it and I don't want to be like that. So I keep it all in and only way to let it out is by channeling it into something else, like writing, drawing or playing video games. (This is a HSP thing but could also be ADHD thing.) I have the results of the and everything they say about me understanding social cues wrong... I think that's it, they think I don't understand them when it's just because of the heavy bullying that made me unable to trust anything other people do or say. I'm actually good at reading people, I don't have trouble understanding people's facial expressions. I myself don't really use facial expressions because it's a self-defense mechanism, I'm not "allowed" to let people see how I feel. Also social anxiety made me really think i was the center of the world and everyone who laughed, was laughing at me, and combined with bullying, I felt like everyone was talking about behind my back and I just felt so hated because it WAS the truth, but I also was sure that also people who don't know me, do that. So me misunderstanding social cues and those were not typical Asperger's but just caused by bullying and being hated by everyone, and excessive loneliness which sometimes felt like I was going crazy and started having voices in my head because I just needed to have a conversation. I still sometimes think friendships work like they did when I was a teenager because that was the last time I've had an actual friend group or even actual friends. I mean friends who I can actually meet with. Only one of those people is still in my life and we live about 2km from each other but still we meet like 1-2 times a year because we always keep talking about how we need to meet and then don't meet. Rest of my friends I know through internet and I’d so much want to meet but can’t and I can only try and guess how I’d work in situation where I’d be in the same room with them because I no longer remember how that even works. That’s how lonely I am because I can’t get to use social skills outside of the internet that much like, ever. I also had to do lots of learning with social situations when I got over the worst parts of social anxiety, it prevented me from learning things you learn as a teenager because I'd enter panic mode when someone talked to me and then spent the rest of the day analyzing it and wishing I was in control and did something differently. Same thing happened with the antidepressants, 5 years of my life without emotions and feelings. They were taken away when I was 17 and then I got them back when I quit the meds and was 22 and suddenly I should have needed to know how to deal with adult emotions.

So, long story short, bullying left me with inability to read other people CORRECTLY but that does not mean I wouldn’t be able to read people. Nowadays I don’t do the mistakes that much anymore, I sense people’s emotions very easily and I mirror people. I might be weird but it’s not because I would act weird or use weird, inapproprite facial expressions. I enjoy being weird so when I do that, it’s usually because of my sense of humour just not matching with other people’s. But there’s still people who DO understand it, it’s they usually just are not neurotypical.

#mcrmadness' random stuff #mcrmadness' deep thoughts

2 notes · View notes

peace-coast-island · 4 years

Text

Diary of a Junebug

Having a whale of a great time!

Scuba diving in the Crystal Blue Lagoon? Check. Collecting pearl oysters and whatever else lies at Sea Glass Shores. Check. Crafting a bunch of cool floaties and braving the Shimmering Whirlpool? Check and check. Riding whales towards the sunset? Check!

Vacationing at the Sparkle Islands has been exactly what I needed! It's nice meeting up with Lenie again as well as Nico and Dewey. The Fairweathers have been taking a break from recording and performing so they've been focusing on adventuring and solo endeavors.

I can't believe that Lenie's a college senior now - where did the time go? Jimmy's busy with family stuff so that's why he's not with us. It feels like forever since I last saw him - but that's what video chats are for! Also, his kids are adorable and I'm glad to finally meet them as well as his husband. Nico's been globe trotting as usual, full of fun and exciting stories to tell us. Dewey's been taking it easy, trying to create a better work-life balance after taking on too much last year.

So far their break has been going really well. With everything going on in their personal lives, they could really take some time off. Artist's block sucks but sometimes there's nothing you can really do about it other than wait it out and focus on other things. Creativity can be finicky, especially when you've got other things on your mind like responsibilities, burnout, or a busy schedule.

I've been in a bit of a creative slump as well. From running events at the camp to personal life stuff getting in the way, I've been feeling off this past week. Like I can't relax because I have a million things running in my mind. If I'm expecting a call or email I find myself unable to focus on anything else because I'm too busy mentally preparing for having to do something that makes me nervous and often drained at the end.

Fortunately, I managed to get pretty much all the boring and stressful adulting stuff out of the way. But after spending most of last week being on edge, it's hard to fall back into my normal rhythm. I've been kinda on autopilot, just trying to get through the day. Up until a couple days ago I've been feeling pretty meh most of the time.

Usually, to de-stress, I turn to art. Doodling, journaling, knitting - whatever creative medium I'm in the mood for. But when you're in an art block, it causes more stress. As someone who's been journaling for years, there will be times when you've hardly touched your notebook in days, weeks, and even months. I have to say, though, since running the camp I've been journaling in a somewhat regular basis - especially when I started incorporating art journaling into it - but I still have times when I'm just not feeling it.

Sometimes getting your feelings out on paper doesn't help, especially when you don't have the words to explain exactly how you feel without it sounding forced or an incomprehensible mess of words. There are times when I want to write about something but the words just don't come out right, so I end up scrapping the whole thing. And of course, there are times when I want to write about something that's been on my mind, only to end up rambling about something else and going off on that tangent.

Then there are times when your mind is so fogged up that you come up completely empty. Up until today, I've been head full of fog, thoughts completely empty. Still kinda feels like that, to be completely honest, but the fog's slowly clearing up. I think the whale ride really helped with that.

As someone who believes a change of scenery and a good distraction helps when life takes a lot of out you, I find that I have a hard time following my own advice. I'm all about taking time to forget your troubles and worries for a bit, but yet I'm having difficulty doing so. I don't know why, but I always find it difficult to completely let loose - like I let myself have fun but at the same time my worries are always there in the back of my mind. It's like I'm subconsciously telling myself to have fun, but not too much fun. As much as I want to let go, there's a part of me that holds on, making me afraid to let myself fall freely.

What's the point in telling people to escape their troubles for a bit when I can't even do that without feeling like I'm doing something wrong? It's not that I don't know how to have fun - though it's taken a lot longer for me to catch on than most people - but sometimes it feels forced. I don't know, it's always something I've struggled with - at least compared to most of my peers growing up. Maybe part of it comes from being a convenient person - one who doesn't ask for much, someone who doesn't go out of their way to bring attention to themselves - the kind of person who tags along and is just there.

It's kinda like I don't know exactly how to have fun. Sort of like I'm second guessing myself by wondering, "Is this what having fun feels like? Am I doing it right? Is this enough?" and of course, that totally defeats the purpose of escaping and letting go.

I have to say, being at the camp as helped a lot in terms of teaching me how to live in the moment and enjoy the good times to the fullest. It's still a bit of a new concept for me, but at least I'm coming out of my shell - and that's what counts. Maybe I'll never be as carefree as some people - I've been told that I'm kinda low-key and serious by nature - and I'm okay with that. Sometimes I wish that I could be a bit more vocal and expressive and active, but most of the time I'm happy with being an observer and doing my own thing in the background.

It was Chai and Rhonda's idea to visit the Sparkle Islands. It was on the list for a while but for the past year the islands were undergoing a lot of reconstruction so a lot of places were closed. Leyla, who's one of the princesses of the islands, was behind a lot of the restoration and repair of various sites.

Turns out that I just missed her when we visited Maron Heights to watch our friends perform in After Hours at the Opera. Because she was so busy getting the islands back in shape, she dropped by to see the show the night before we came and went back home the next morning.

Like with Kat, Hawk, AJ, and Elara, Leyla's been going through a bunch of changes as well now that things are settling down. Aside from rebuilding the islands, Leyla's getting reacquainted with her mom Archer, who disappeared about twenty years ago in a disaster that left part of the main island in shambles for years. Having her back is still a huge adjustment for Leyla and her momma Rosie as she missed out on a lot. Leyla and Kat are pretty much on the same page when it comes to reuniting with a parent who was presumed dead for most of their lives. Despite the initial awkwardness, things are going well.

As for Leyla, a heated reunion between her moms led to an unexpected surprise - three actually. In about five months their little family of three will double in size. While her moms are terrified, Leyla's at the point where she's fully looking forward to having three new siblings. Sure, it'll be tough as her moms are out of practice with taking care of a baby (or babies). The way Leyla sees it, the 20 + age difference is more of an advantage because she can easily help take care of the babies as her moms will definitely be overwhelmed.

So along with overseeing the islands, Leyla's been helping Rosie take care of Archer, who's on strict bedrest. Archer's doing okay for the most part but the pregnancy has taken a toll on her, especially since there's a high potential for complications. Now with reconstruction almost done - about 98% according to Leyla - she has been spending a lot of time with her moms.

It was by chance that we ran into Lenie and her brothers as well as Leyla and her moms. Leyla's been dropping by to check in on us but it wasn't until today she joined us on a fun filled day of crafting floaties and riding whales. Rosie insisted that Leyla take a well deserved break and invited us for dinner when we got back.

Crafting floaties was a lot of fun and so was diving in the Shimmering Whirlpool. It does take some getting used to though, and one should be a somewhat experienced swimmer as the currents can get quite unpredictable. A bit too rough for my liking at times - not a fan of being spun around quickly because motion sickness, ugh - but overall it was an interesting experience. Definitely more into crafting floaties though.

Maybe I would be more of a thrill seeker if I didn't get so dizzy easily. I can't even look at something spinning for more than half a minute without feeling a headache coming on.

Late afternoon and evening were much more chill, thankfully. Bubble tea, sandwiches, and ice cream at the beach. Building sandcastles and breaking open coconuts. Lying on a beach towel under an umbrella and watching the waves. It's hard to believe that a couple months ago this place was left in ruins.

The biggest highlight was the whale ride. Leyla set us up with some of her friends, who were more than happy to let us hop on and show us the ocean. And I have to say, it was an amazing experience!

For a moment, I was able to let go completely. No worries, no doubts, no second guessing myself. Just bliss and exhilaration. A rare moment in which I get to be in the moment instead of being aware that I'm living a memory that I'll be looking back on fondly someday. It's strange, to lose yourself like that and not feel... weird? Guilty? Disconnected? Like you're not enjoying it enough because a part of your mind is elsewhere.

Riding a whale towards a sunset - what a way to spend an evening! I guess my takeaway from this mind blowing experience is that I need to learn that a part of having fun is letting happiness come to you instead of forcing it or telling yourself that you should be enjoying this. I need to keep that in mind.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

1 note · View note

splat-dragon · 4 years

Link

Lead me away; Or leave me lying here ~Sound the Bugle, Bryan Adams

There was a dog staring back at her from the puddle.

She felt a laugh threatening to burble up from her throat, and feared if she let it out she’d never be able to stop, would laugh and laugh and laugh until she died, suffocating on the sound, not able to breathe around it.

Maybe… maybe she was seeing things. It was hot after all, and she’d taken a few good blows to her head.

She blinked, and the dog blinked back at her.

She licked her lips, and the dog’s long, pink tongue did the same.

Bile rose in her throat, burning as it was little more than stomach acid, ‘Fuck, no.’

No, this was impossible, she refused to believe it. A person doesn’t just get turned into a dog!

But, too, a person doesn’t just fall asleep on their nice, soft bed, in their air-conditioned bedroom, and wake up on prickly dead grass in the scorching desert. Is waking up, too, as a dog so strange? No, no, she refused to believe it, and shook her head.

The dog shook its head, dark, floppy ears flailing this way and that.

Slowly, she leaned forward until her nose pressed against the water, and the dog did the same, their noses ‘touching’, the water rippling. And, oh, their eyes were the same, and she’d never seen one with such green eyes before. Of course she’d seen dogs with green eyes, but only ever pale, near sickly, never such a rich shade, so striking against the dog’s rich brown fur that it looked near brighter than on her, but she’d know her own eyes anywhere.

Bile rushed up her throat, suddenly, and she retched, and the dog did the same, but nothing came up, thank god, so she didn’t spoil what little water she had.

‘Oh, god.’

“Ain’t you scary lookin’?”

The snarling.

“Got you some sharp teeth, I reckon.”

The twisting.

“She’s real scary lookin’, ain’t she,”

The way they hadn’t understood her.

“Yeah, looks like she’ll be pretty loud. If anythin’, her barkin’ should be ‘nuff to scare ‘em off.”

She couldn’t deny it, could she?

She started to shiver, something ice-cold trickling down her spine. Her heart leaped in her ears, bounding faster and faster, and she feared it would race until it stopped, unable to keep up with its own pace.

Her eyes locked on the dog, trying to focus on anything but her heart, not wanting to fall in that loop of fear that would only making it go faster and faster, trying to take in what it looked like now, what she looked like now— "Oh, god, This… this is my life now, isn’t it? A dog in the desert, chained to a tree.” and then, a hysterical thought came to mind, and she giggled, the sound tearing from her throat, “Is it really considered being chained if it’s by a rope?”

She couldn’t put a breed to the face, though she’d guess some sort of shepherd if she were pressed. A massive one at that, from the size of its (her) head, blocky and almost octangular. An almost blunt, not-long-but-not-short muzzle, white crowned with a black nose. A white line streaked up between the dog’s (‘mine’, she corrected herself distantly) eyes from it, and she was vaguely amused to realize that the white went up more on the left side of her muzzle, the black from her lower lips and what she was determined to call ‘lipstick’ going up to line the outside of the marking. There were ‘bags’ under her eyes of black, and faint, faint eyebrows, the rest of its fur that she could see, though not much as the puddle was small and so she could only see her head a shade of brown that was almost orange, and from what she could see of her neck the white from her muzzle stretched down to the start of a white streak in fluffy fur.

‘Well,’ she thought, ‘at least I’m a pretty dog.’

Shock. She was definitely in shock. But what could she do? Scream and yell and deny it? What good would that do her, other than to get the attention of those men and risk bringing on their wrath?

So, remembering how thirsty she was, she stuck out her tongue carefully, snapping at the water instinctively when it lurched up from the impact. It came surprisingly easy, but that was instinct, after all. And so she drank and drank the few mouthfuls left, only able to stare mournfully at the brown dirt that was all what was left of the puddle when she was finished, and still thirsty.

They’d have to bring her water eventually, right? A dog can’t be a guard dog if it’s dead.

It was so hot.

She hadn’t the energy for energy. The energy to moan, to whine, to plead for water, if it were even possible for her to. An unforgiving sun beat down overhead, baking her within her thick furs, and she mourned all those poor dogs she’d seen growing up chained outside in the yard, wondered how they’d had the energy to bark and jump around as she went passed. Her tongue lolled from her mouth, near-white for lack of saliva, and she couldn’t remember when last she’d swallowed, each breath rasping, rattling in her chest. Her eyes scraped with each blink, focusing on nothing, waves of heat rising from the ground and distorting everything—not that there was much to see, no animals dared near the shack, and the three men never did anything particularly interesting.

She’d never known it was possible to be so hot.

How long she had been there, she doesn’t know. She’d passed in and out of consciousness, sometimes waking up to the sky dark above her, so cold she rattled inside of her pelt, other times melting beneath a sun so bright it was near white. And she couldn’t count the days through food, as they seldom fed her, little more than crumbs of hardtack tossed to the ground in front of her, water nothing more than the last dregs from their canteens splashed on her face, leaving her to lick off what didn’t evaporate from the sheer heat of her fur.

Horse hooves thundered near, and she forced her eyes open, pain thundering in her temples, and distantly she wondered if other dogs got headaches, or if it was just a her thing. They only opened a slit, little more than crescents of green in the dusty fur of her face, white turned tan from the dust thrown up by the rare winds, and did it really matter? It was probably just Bulldog or Rat or Sniffles as she’d taken to calling them, returning from wherever they went in the day, probably kicking puppies or stealing candy from babies. But, she realized as the rider got close enough for her to make out their figure, the rider didn’t look like any of the three, too lanky to be Bulldog, too broad-shouldered to be Rat, too tall to be Sniffles. ‘Who the hell are you?’ she wondered, and hoped he wasn’t a fourth to their trio, because she was fairly certain she wouldn’t survive another monster, if the heat didn’t kill her first.

They wanted her to bark if a stranger approached. Really, though, she didn’t care, and why should she? If he was a friend of theirs, how was she to know? If he was there to harm them, all the better. And, besides, she was fairly certain she couldn’t even wheeze, much less bark. If she could bark, she doubted she could bark loud enough for them to hear in that tin can they called a shack. The idiots didn’t realize that dogs need water to live, much less bark and play guard dog like they wanted, but she was curious, always had been the curious sort, so she dropped her jaw and tried to bark, though she’d never barked before so it didn’t quite come naturally, and only managed a pitiful wheezy sound, like a stepped on squeaky toy.

Wow.

That was really embarrassing.

She was glad that the sound had been quiet, because she might have just keeled over dead there of sheer embarrassment.

Closing her eyes, she sighed as the man dismounted, boots thudding against the dirt and approaching the shack. Sniffles called out to him, and they began to talk, the words running together like molasses in her tired mind, only opening her eyes out of curiosity when Bulldog and Rat joined in, voices raising aggressively. Bulldog was holding what she was almost certain was a gun, long and black, but it was hard to tell from where she lay.

Suddenly, seemingly without provocation but, considering that she couldn’t hear everything she couldn’t be certain, the stranger’s hand whipped out with what she thought was a gun, and she was right as a dull bang! bang! bang! followed, unlike anything she’d ever heard before, shorter and higher pitched than she would have expected, the air reeking suddenly of blood as her tormentors dropped bonelessly to the ground.

And that was that.

If she wasn’t so exhausted, wasn’t so out of it, she would have been horrified. Terrified, too, would have run screaming in the opposite direction, though where to she didn’t know other than Away. She’d never seen anyone die before, especially not so violently, and the blood-scent, even from so far away, was cloying and choking to her dog’s nose. But even if she had the energy, even if she could have gotten to her feet (her paws? she still didn’t know what to call them) she would have only ended up strangling herself with the rope, so instead she just blinked slowly and remained where she laid, letting her eyes drift shut, letting the man do as he wished.

Let him find her and leave her be, or find her and let her go. Even not find her at all and leave her to rot, to starve and die and desiccate in the sun. And that last thought drew her to the surface, so horrifying that she opened her eyes, stared at his retreating back, and how was he wearing a jean jacket, even a sleeveless one, in this burning heat? and tried to bark, but only managed another wheezing squeak.

As though he hadn’t just struck down three men, the man was mounting up, turning his horse and trotting it towards the main road. Fear sparked in her chest, pushed away the dull apathy that had set in who-knows-how-long-ago, and she knew, she knew, he wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t see her brown fur that she was sure blended in with the tan grasses, would pass her by and leave her to die.

How, she’d never know; whether by pure luck, divine intervention, or that he’d simply heard her, but he reined in his horse, standing up in his stirrups, hand going to his gun as he looked back at the shack, likely looking for a fourth man. His eyes skimmed over her the first time, not noticing her, and then the second time, too, before darting back to her, making out her silhouette for the first time. With a put upon sigh, he dismounted his horse and she’d never be able to put words to the sheer relief that filled her as he approached.

“Hey girl,” he murmured, drawling it in such a way that it came out sounding more like ‘gurl’, and why did that rasping voice sound so familiar? “You ain’t lookin’ too good.” Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, resting on his heels, coming close enough that she could make out details, not just a faltering outline.

Old, faded scars on the side of his face

“I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you, Arthur Morgan.”

Black stubble, shaggy, shoulder length black hair.

“John Marston, you best wash your hair before I do it for you!”

Dark blue eyes, furrowed in concern.

“Huh, I could’ve sworn his eyes were brown in the first game. ”

Her sluggish mind put three and three together, and she gasped, the sound catching in her throat and leaving her coughing and gasping, struggling to catch her breath.

John fucking Marston crouched in front of her. Though he looked different, made of flesh and bone, not pixels and code, John Marston was not a forgettable man.

#rdr2 #rdr #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #i can't quite remember just what guided me this way #silent savior #splat #splat dragon #SplatDragon #splatdragonff #Splat_Dragon #cw: violence #cw: guns #cw: death #cw: blood #cw: animal abuse #cw: animal neglect #cw: dehydration

3 notes · View notes

sunjourhealthcare · 4 years

Link

Father's Day is just around the corner! Did you know that June is also Men's Health Month? Giving the older fathers in our lives the tools to manage their health issues that arise with age is important! One health issue we focus on is called BPH (benign prostatic hyperplasia) which is the medical term for prostate enlargement. Although the topic of prostates may not sound fun or comfortable, it is still important nonetheless for men to know their body and know how to care for it. In just the United States, there are an estimated 42 million cases of BPH.

In case you’ve ever wondered just what exactly a prostate is, it’s a small gland about the size of a walnut that is situated below the bladder (which holds urine). The urethra (a tube that carries urine out of the body) runs through the center of the prostate and the penis. The prostate is part of the male reproductive system and its function is to help make seminal fluid that mixes in with the sperm to produce semen.

There are different prostate conditions out there, but one thing we want you to rest assured of is that BPH doesn't increase risk of prostate cancer because as the B in BPH implies (benign), BPH is not cancerous. BPH commonly affects men 50 and older.

The hormone known as testosterone helps the prostate grow throughout a man's life. Did you know that about 60-70% of men may have BPH in their 60s and that by the time the male population hits the 90s age range, about 90% of men may have developed BPH? This condition can bear a significance on quality of life as we'll later explain.

Prostate symptoms may be tested with a PSA (prostate specific antigen) blood test but this PSA test alone cannot determine whether the symptoms men experience are BPH or prostate cancer. It is also important to discuss whether this test is necessary on an individual basis.

Now, onto the BPH symptoms. As the prostate grows, the urethra is squeezed, blocking the flow of urine from the bladder to out of the body. As a result symptoms include the following: - frequent urination at day and at night - sudden urges to urinate - urinary stream is weak or slow - difficulty when starting to urinate - stopping and starting while voiding The interesting thing is that BPH is the number one reason men go to the urologist even though they may not know it's even called BPH. The impacts that BPH can have on men's lives include the following: - A disruption of normal sleeping patterns - Have to plan life and activities around where the nearest bathroom is (such as needing an aisle seat on the plane and being unable to go on long road trips) - Changing to use of bathroom stalls instead of urinals due to embarrassment over slow urinary flow or difficulty urinating

As men age, it is likely that BPH is an inevitable prostate issue, so our advice to the men and dads around the world is not to wait so long to get evaluated, and don't leave it untreated! Not treating BPH could lead to these problems:

- Permanent bladder damage or compromised bladder condition - UTIs (urinary tract infections) - Bladder and/or kidney stones - Kidney damage - Bladder retention - Complete inability to urinate

So what can men do? You can make an appointment with a urologist by telehealth or at their office. You may talk about your medical history and take an IPSS (international prostate symptoms score) survey, and you and your doctor can determine how much your BPH is bothering you. BPH can be diagnosed or detected with a bladder scan, uroflowmety (to test the speed of urinary flow), a digital rectal exam, a transrectal ultrasound, or a cytoscopy (camera placed through the urethra to check the prostate and bladder)

The IPSS survey scores symptoms based on the patient's feedback and can determine how mild or severe the BPH is based on a numerical score.

The sooner you go on treatment and/or manage symptoms the sooner your quality of life can be restored. Treatment options for BPH will depend on a number of factors: - The size of the prostate - The age of the BPH patient - The desire of the BPH patient to preserve his sexual function - The overall health of the BPH patient - The severity of BPH symptoms

In mild cases, doctors may recommend monitoring symptoms with watchful waiting.

One thing to consider is that medication is not the only way to treat BPH. Some concerns about medication are that it may be inadequate and only provide temporary relief, and it may carry unpleasant side effects (dizziness, headaches, sexual dysfunction). This is why about 27% of men stop taking medication after being on it for one year.

When making a decision about treatment options, men need to evaluate the key differences in long and short term effects and the convenience of the treatment. Will he need a catheter? How long is the recovery period? Are the side effects permanent or temporary?

Alternatives to medication in order of risk include plant based therapies, minimally invasive surgeries, or major surgical procedures.

The goal of BPH treatment is to manage and alleviate symptoms so that men can resume a normal daily life. Treatments that have been reviewed by the FDA or have undergone clinical studies could be promising based on the results of success rates.

And for some men who are still sexually active with their partners, preserving sexual function can be a consideration for their preferred treatment. Men who are sexually active want no problems with ejaculations or erections. Treating BPH rather than ignoring it could be a gradual change or a night and day difference, but the importance is to start. Some men may not want to use a catheter, they may want little to no down time, and they may also want little to no side effects. They may not want to experience occasional bleeding after urination or pain in bladder or pelvis.

Treating BPH could be a game changer not only in men's lives but in their partner's lives as well. Husbands and wives want men to see the urologist- don't keep living with bothersome BPH symptoms! Talk to your doctor, get medical opinions, and responsibly seek and share information.

Granted, medical procedures may be big or scary decisions. If you are considering complementary therapy (taking natural therapy while taking medication) with the goal of reducing or getting off your current prescription dosage, talk to medical professionals before reducing or going off medications to avoid complications.

Imagine men experiencing urinary frequency at the worst possible times, such as during a long flight (getting up every hour or half hour. Imagine getting up 3-4 times a night (interrupting ability to get good night's sleep). Imagine urinary urges that take place during demanding schedules with work or life. Imagine being fatigued in the afternoon due to lack of a good night's sleep. This is the reality some men with BPH face day to day when they don't address their BPH. Partners of men who may have BPH, ask him to take the IPSS survey. Don't let your partner suffer for years with BPH. Arrange to meet with a urologist. What does relief look like? - Feeling more rested - Getting up less - Having more energy - Being less tired - Doing better in daily life in your career and personal life - A return to normalcy - Happiness with yourself and partner This Father's Day and Men's Health Month, spread BPH awareness!

#bph #menshealth #health #men #menshealthmonth #father's day #fathersday #umooze #tiktok

1 note · View note

writing-nebula · 5 years

Text

Aura: Chp. 3, Elemental Symptoms.

He felt...weird, but that wasn’t new. There had been an obvious, escalating, tension in the house, but it seemed to be affecting Jack on a psychical level unlike the others. His head was a constant mess, unable to focus with constant worsening headaches. And Marvin's magic wasn't helping anymore, not that he was going to tell Marvin that or Henrik for that matter. There was something else at play and nobody really knew what it was.

Henrik thought it was tension headaches, caused by stress from trying to keep the peace between almost everyone and Chase. He wasn't wrong, but Jack could feel, well, something. It was like his body was reacting to them, the reaction getting stronger by the day. Whenever any of the egos got riled up and actually angry, or really, any strong emotion, Jack swore he could feel it. It wasn't in a way he could ignore either, how could you ignore your body slowly setting itself on fire? Especially after yesterday morning's incident.

He had began to overheat, which honestly was becoming disconcertingly common, but was usually tolerable. That is, until Jackie and Chase had started to fight, the hero had taken to Anti after he'd proven to be rather clumsy. So when Chase had continued his bad attitude through the day, Jackie had tackled him, the two getting into a fist fight on the living room floor.

Jack had almost dropped a soapy plate at the sudden yelling, already on edge from stress and worry, he hadn't been able to get Anti out of his room or even get a response from him. His hands had gone numb when he'd touched Anti's door, they were so cold, like they'd been left in the snow for far too long. He had been hoping the hot water from doing dishes would warm them back up, it wasn't really working.

Calling for Marvin, Jack had gone to try and break up the fight, only to nearly fall over from dizziness as his body had started to burn. And other than vaguely knowing that Jackie had given Chase a black eye, something being broken, and that they had needed to be pulled apart by not only Marvin. But Henrik as well, which spoke volumes about how bad that fight was, it had all been a hazy blur.

He had woken up in Henrik's room, covered with every ice pack in the house, and then some. He remembered seeing Henrik wildly gesturing at Marvin in the doorway, who was trying to calm him, the doctor was clearly stressed, but Jack couldn't focus on what was being said giving in to sleep. And then JJ was there, though he'd rushed off as soon as Jack had woken up, he came back with Henrik trailing close behind.

Apparently JJ had come in to see what the commotion was about and ended up breaking the plate Jack had been washing to get everyone's attention. Henrik had said he'd been completely unresponsive at that point and had a fever, he was keeping very tight lipped about just how bad it was, just that it would have been bad had Henrik not taken control of the situation so quickly. He had done just about everything short of an ice bath to get his temp down, Jack had been out the rest of the day and almost through the next.

That had been yesterday, and Jack wasn't having any luck recording, still too distracted by the situation with Anti and Chase to give the video his full attention. There was a knock at the door, startling him out of his thoughts. He just sighed, as his character died yet again, and began to shut down the game and recording equipment. Not really paying attention as the office door was opened and closed.

Until Jackie was standing right next to him, "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's ok Jackie, just getting done." He leaned back closing his eyes, His head was hurting again. Jackie must have noticed as hands were suddenly running gently through his hair before starting to make small circles at his temples, warmth slowly seeping in.

"Didn't Schneep tell you that you shouldn't record for a couple days?" The only thing that kept Jack from jolting up and making his head hurt worse, was Jackie suddenly putting a hand on his chest, firmly keeping him in the chair.

"Easy Jack, I thought you saw me come in with Jackie." Deft hands started up again, and Jackie patted his shoulder in apology, the sensation of Marvin's magic was more prominent this time.

"Guess I wasn't paying attention, and no, Schneep said I shouldn't record a lot, huge difference!" He reached up and poked at the nose of Marvin's mask, getting a mock offended look from the magician.

"Of course my mistake, although you would think that you would have learned by now not to record when you're this stressed." Marvin finished what he was doing and let Jack sit up, his headache was thankfully lessened now.

"I know, any news?" Both egos shook their heads, nothing had changed then. "Anti?"

"Still nothing, he won't come out or even talk to anyone. JJ's been leaving stuff at the door though, food, drink. He's pretty sure Anti's been taking the stuff though." Seeing Jack's confusion Jackie elaborated, "I may have taught JJ and Anti morse, not that Anti's responding to that either."

"Ah I was wondering how that was working, and Chase?" He looked over to Marvin.

"He came out for food and stuff, but he's avoiding all of us, especially Jackie, although I find it ironic that he's avoiding Anti like the plague and they share a bedroom wall." That would have been rather amusing in any other situation.

"This has to end." The silence was thick, nobody really knew what to say beyond that. And then Jack was suddenly over Jackie's shoulder, "whoa!"

"You're right, but you need to eat first, doctor's and hero's orders." Jackie was heading to the living room, Marvin following close behind, not even trying to cover up his laughter.

"Hey I can walk you know!" Jack wasn't even struggling, Jackie had such a strong grip on him that there really wasn't a way out of it even if he did want to get down.

"Yes I'm aware." Jackie dropped him onto the living room couch, "now, please stay here." He watched as Jackie walked off to the kitchen.

"Jack," Marvin was leaning over the couch, "I'm going to try and get Anti to come out, but you know, you are right, this does need to end. It's gone on for far too long, but you should talk to Chase first. As stubborn as he is he'll listen to you, until then let the rest of us handle Anti ok?"

"I will," Jack nodded, then leaned in closer to Marvin, already failing to hold back giggles as he stage whispered, "as soon as the moms let me go."

"Mom huh?" There was an odd noise and Marvin was suddenly gone, a puff of green smoke taking his place, Henrik stood just to the side of where the magician had just been.

Jack stared, "did he just…?"

"I believe he did." They both looked back and forth from where Marvin had been and to each other, before they both burst out laughing.

"do you know how long he's been trying to teleport and all it took was you scaring him!" Henrik came around to join him on the couch, when he saw Jackie coming back from the kitchen. Plates in hand and JJ following with drinks.

"Hey Schneep, why didn't you say something? I would've made something for you too." He set down the plates on the coffee table, a couple sandwiches and some celery and peanut butter, and took the drinks from JJ who went back towards the kitchen.

"Oh he said something alright," Jack slid the coffee over to Henrik, and JJ came back with two chairs from the dining room, giving one to Jackie. "Scared Marvin enough that he teleported."

Jackie had to put his own drink down he was laughing so hard, "oh he's gonna throw a fit about that."

They talked for a bit, enjoying the food Jackie made, Marvin had indeed teleported and had made his complaints very well known when he finally joined them again. Their conversation had taken a turn though, despite the light atmosphere that morning the space that Anti and Chase would normally fill was very obviously empty. Even though Chase would always voice his disdain for Anti, there were times when their interactions went better than others. This more than likely would have been one of those times.

So here he was, standing in front of Chase's room, he wasn’t nervous per-say, but he wasn’t sure what he would do if Chase wouldn’t listen to him.

Jack opened the door, the fatherly ego was just sitting on his bed. Back to him, clearly not wanting company. He took a seat at Chase’s desk, spinning the rolling chair to face the other. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last. This conversation needed to happen, it needed to happen months ago. “Let's have a talk Chase.”

Chase didn’t turn to face Jack, just made tired, vague motions. “So you can lecture me about my attitude towards the glitch?” his tone didn’t have nearly as much venom as it usually did when talking about Anti.

Jack spoke softly, “I'm not going to lecture you Chase, I understand that you don't like Anti.” he watched in surprise as Chase seemed to curl in on himself, as if that statement hurt him.

“That's an understatement.” Again, he just sounded tired, his body language conflicting with his words, like saying that weighed on him more than he cared to show.

"And I know you’ve heard this all before, god knows how many times you and Jackie have gone at it, but you're being very harsh on him.” Jack was starting to get an idea of what was going on.

Chase finally turns, re-situating himself on the bed to face him, hat in hand, worrying at the brim. “Harsh isn't the word for it, besides it’s not anything that he doesn’t deserve.” Chase looked so tired, and not entirely convinced by his own words. And then it was like a switch had been flipped. There was a resolve there that hadn't been there just seconds before, but there was something else, something desperate. “Listen Seán everybody’s told you that you don’t understand, but I know that you do. You created us, you gave us our stories, and you do know exactly what he’s done. And then for some reason you expect me to just forgive him! I can’t just forget, I can’t just move on like everyone else apparently has.”

He gets up onto the bed with Chase, gently taking his hat. He replaces it with his own hands, rubbing slow circles over Chase's hands. “I'm not asking you to forgive him, I'm not asking you to forget what he did! I'm asking you to give him a chance,he's not the same, and I know even you’ve seen that. Think about this from his perspective, you just seem to hate him for no reason. I know you're afraid that he's going to turn on us, and that you have to protect everyone, but I know he won’t. ”

“How do you know?” that simple question is so full of fear and hope.

And Jack is pulling Chase into a hug, the fatherly ego quickly giving in to it. “Call it intuition, but Anti has been extremely respectful of all the boundaries you've set. Every single one of them.”

Chase pulled back slowly before flopping on the bed, hands flung into the air before letting them cover his face, “I know! I know… I just wish that everyone would be more cautious, think a bit more before just trusting him…”

Jack paused for a moment before continuing, "you know, the others didn't accept Anti as readily as you think they did."

Chase moved his arm from his face just even to peek over it, "Oh?"

"Jackie wasn't fond of Anti either, nearly the entire first month Jackie didn't let him out of his sight. You know what he saw?"

"What?"

"That Anti is extremely accident prone, he’s clumsy. He can hardly walk through the house without tripping over something. And then, one time, Jackie accidentally spilled soup on him and Anti was the one who started apologizing. I think that's when he started protecting Anti instead of protecting us from him." Chase had stopped covering his face to just stare at Jack.

And then Chase was laughing, it had been too long since Jack had seen him actually relax like this, "when the hell did that happen?"

"One of the many times you've skipped a meal, I'm sure." There was tension that suddenly broke and the low burning had finally stopped. They had settled into a quiet moment, Chase finally relaxing, quietly laughing as Jack relayed how everyone had finally come to accept Anti into the family.

As everything settled into quiet moment between the two, Chase sat up, “I’m sorry.”

Jack just smiles “Apology accepted, but I think it’s the others that you really owe an apology to.”

Jack got Chase to finally come out of his room, Marvin had been heading downstairs when he spotted them, He had looked to Jack in a hopeful manner. To which Jack just nudged Chase towards him and they had walked off together, Chase worry at his hat brim the whole way. Everything was getting back to normal, or as normal as living in a house with six other people that were once a figment of your imagination could be.

He was grateful the fire under his skin had finally dissipated, however, something else was taking hold. A draft was coming from Anti’s room, It was pleasantly cool for now, but Jack had no doubt that left unchecked, like the heat, the cold feeling would be just as burning.

And again, here he was, standing in front of a door, Anti’s door, and he was nervous this time. His hands ached just thinking about the burning cold, and Jack couldn’t bring himself to touch the door again. It got colder, as if in response to his hesitance, and any words that he might have had died in his throat rather quickly. Too cold. He couldn’t handle that again, not right now.

Two weeks. Two weeks, Jack had made another attempt to confront Anti, but just like he had anticipated the cold had grown outward and he couldn’t bring himself to speak or touch the door. The cold draft seemed to follow him through the house, it was progressing faster than the heat had and Jack was having trouble keeping warm. The others had tried talking to him as well, Chase even tried to talk to him, nervous as he was. Anti just wouldn’t leave his room.

Somehow in all this mess, the others had managed to plan a video with all the egos, and Jack was grateful for the distraction. They had been creating the script, but had to stop as JJ kept signing sarcastic comments, and making everyone lose it.

“Ok, ok, I’m going to get some drinks before we start again.” Chase managed to stop laughing long enough to say. He got a chorus of approvals as he left the recording room, making his way down the long hall to the kitchen. It was good to make up with his brothers, but he hadn’t been able to really even make an attempt to apologize to Anti. Sure he’d been able to say his apologies through the door, but that wasn’t enough, it wasn’t good enough.

There was a noise in the kitchen and Chase stopped dead in his tracks at the end of the hall, kitchen in full view. And there was Anti rummaging through the fridge, the hoodie he was wearing engulfed him. Anti turned to leave, food in hand, when he noticed Chase, completely frozen mid step. In the most polite, but truthful way that Chase would describe later, Anti looked like death. Bags under his eyes, obviously not sleeping, and much thinner than Chase remembered, had he not been eating?

The familiar noise of static filled the room, “Anti wait!” No luck, he was gone before Chase could even think about going to him. Chase felt sick, he had been the cause of this hadn’t he?

Previous - Start - Next

Tag list: @egopocalypse

#writers of jack #awakened aura #jse fanfiction #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #Dr Schneeplestein

21 notes · View notes