#i know a lot of people don’t like em for being difficult | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ronwestbreeze · 6 months

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you're gonna go far | 6

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 8.5k

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It was a little difficult to get out of bed that morning.

One of those days.

Long and exhausting. It was challenging to get stuff done. You knew things like this wouldn’t just go away instantly. But you hoped that maybe…

It wasn’t too bad like before. You were able to think about the chores that had to be done later in the day and pushed yourself out of the bedroom.

So you went through most of the day barely existing. Norm was the first to notice your slight change in behavior because he began trying to joke more with you—no matter how bad they ended up being—and tried getting you out of your head. And you were thankful for that. At least that’s what was different this time around. You weren’t entirely alone nor held up in your room.

That was progress, right? You honestly couldn’t tell. Sometimes you felt like you were still stuck, that you weren’t moving forward. Or getting better. At least back to what you used to be.

Yet, you’ve been this way—asleep—for so long that you have forgotten what you used to be like. You forgot when the last time you smiled. You forgot when you felt the most happy or any other emotion besides anger and grief.

You wondered where that part of you went. Some days you went searching. Other days you somberly accepted that it was a part of you, that you were never going to get back.

At some point, you figured it died along with your mother.

“You want me to check on the baby today?” Norm asked you as you were getting ready for your link for the day.

You shook your head as you sat on the link bed, “No, I’ll be fine. Just one of those days, you know? We all have em’.”

He frowned when you shrugged it off or appeared a little too nonchalant about it, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks for offering though.”

“Anytime, Doc.” He gave you a pat on the shoulder, while watching you particularly closely, “Just tell me you need a break. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

He was nice. You needed something like that.

Neytiri noticed it too.

While the two of you were in the garden that day, Neytiri had been saying words in Na’vi for you to repeat. And you did it, not perfectly of course, but you managed. It was just that you didn’t take in any information. Not in the way she knew you to.

You had a certain look that told Neytiri you were hanging onto her every word, whenever you were learning something new from her. Eyes slightly vibrant with curiosity.

That look wasn’t there today. Instead, in its place was a dullness and lifeless sort of unfocused gaze.

Your ears were low again.

Neytiri didn’t know when she became so attentive to your moods or facial expressions. So much so that she could tell when you were somewhat happy and really, painfully sad—

You were just easy to read in this form.

Yes, that was it.

“What is wrong, tanhi?” Neytiri eventually asked because she didn’t completely despise you so much to ignore your change in mood.

There was a twitch in your ears when you heard your name being called. You looked up from the newly planted mushroom seeds you had been mentally counting at Neytiri to find her staring at you expectantly. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes, “You are not listening. I know you are distracted. What is wrong with you?”

You cringed at yourself for allowing yourself to get so distracted by your swimming thoughts. Drowning in them as usual. “It’s nothing. Just have a lot on my mind.”

But the answer did not satisfy her. Neytiri shook her head, “Sky People are always hiding their feelings. You are doing that. It is okay to be sad. It is natural.”

“I’m not hiding it—” You sighed, turning your gaze back to the mushroom seeds. “It’s just one of those days. Maybe—Maybe today I am sad. I could barely get out of bed and tomorrow it might be worse—what are you doing?”

You watched as Neytiri got up and moved behind you. A second later, you feel a brief tugging at your hair until it became loose from your short braid. “If you want to learn our ways, then you must take care of your hair. I look at it and it is a mess.”

“It was in a braid before…”

“I did not like it.”

With that, she got up again and trekked back into the forest. You watched her go in bewilderment at the sudden change of conversation and attitude from the Na’vi woman. You had no idea what had come over the woman or what made her suddenly leave, but you didn’t focus on it for too long. The confusion and startlement you had was enough energy to continue planting the rest of the mushrooms. You didn’t bother putting your hair back into a braid, not wanting to spend time threading through the thick strands until your fingers were too sore to complete your job. And the last thing you needed was something stopping you from finishing this one simple task—

A splash of cold water was suddenly dumped onto your head, leaving you soaking wet.

And terribly pissed.

You snapped your head behind you to find Neytiri placing the leaf down next to her—which was glistening with water. The same water that was now spilled all over you.

“Neytiri—ouch!”

“Hold still.” Neytiri hissed at you as she ran her long fingers through your hair.

You grumbled but reluctantly listened, still confused and a bit pissed at what was going on. And for a while, the two of you remained there. You, sitting on the ground still counting the seeds quietly to yourself while Neytiri stayed behind you. Braiding a few strands of hair.

It was then you realized just how different your hair was from the way it was in your human body. The hair length was very similar to how you used to wear it when you were a teenager. You wondered then just how old this avatar body was.

Once she was finally finished, she crouched down in front of you to get a better look. Her yellow irises scanning your face and her work. Tucking rebellious strands behind your ear, patting down some of the fuzziness, and making sure the braid was visible around your face.

You watched her quietly. And soon, when she was done obsessing over your hair, she watched you too.

It wasn’t the way you and Jake watched each other. This—this had something different about it.

Time was an illusion here. Trapped in her yellow gaze. You hadn’t realized you had been staring for so long—nor did you realize you had briefly glanced at her lips—until a sudden sound from the forest pulled the both of you out of this strange trance.

And once you snapped to your senses, your body quickly reacted. You shot to your feet and cleared your throat, “I gotta check on the avatar now.” You didn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll see you.”

Before she could stop you, you already scurried off. Stopping once you were far enough away out of her sight.

Stopping when you felt a new pair of eyes watching you rather closely.

You glanced around the forest surroundings as you approached the longhouse with a frown until your eyes locked on another pair of yellow eyes. Severe ones.

Tsu’tey was in the trees further away but enough for you to see him watching you, even when you caught him doing so. He did not look away from you. Narrowed eyes and that scowl resting on his angular face.

For a moment you wondered what the look was for. You wondered what he could yell at you about this time, even though you listened to his demands and had stayed away from the Omatikaya territory.

A scared part of you wondered if he had seen you and Neytiri just now.

Nothing happened. But still, it would give enough ammunition for him to verbally attack you. Hate you even more possibly.

Except there would be no battle today. As Tsu’tey disappeared within the trees without a word.

You were confused but relieved at the same time.

Dealing with an angry clan leader was not on your to-do list. Nor were you properly prepared for it.

After watching the trees in silence, you eventually went inside.

Neytiri watched your retreating figure with a frown, her heart…shifting—only a little bit as you disappeared. Her gaze then moved toward the trees, the area where the sound had come from before. And with an irritated frown, she got up and stalked toward the area.

They were still there. She could feel their eyes on her as she went further into the forest. With a hiss, she glared at the trees, “Come out. Enough hiding!”

Just a little bit above her, a few feet away a familiar warrior snaked out of the bushes and seated himself on the large branch with his usual expression he wore whenever he was away from their shared hut.

Neytiri frowned up at Tsu’tey, “You are watching me.”

“I am watching her.”

After a beat and a quiet sigh, Neytiri climbed up the tree and joined him. Despite his very sour mood, he tugged her close to his side as they sat together. On the branch, they had a good view of the Avatar Compound. A few dreamwalkers were running about but none of them seemed to bother Tsu’tey as much as you did. Neytiri could easily tell with how he kept glaring at the longhouse, the same place she always watched you disappear in whenever you left your false body.

“You have been spending time with her,” Tsu’tey stated more so than asking. There wasn’t much to hide, they both knew Neytiri spent some of her free time visiting you. Only when Tsu’tey or Jake are busy with their duties and she’s finished with hers before the both of them. “I do not like it.”

“She has done nothing.” Neytiri reasoned.

“Yet.”

“And what did I say if she does? I would kill her myself.”

As she said this, Neytiri felt a certain wavering in her heavy words. Like a part of her didn’t believe it anymore.

She rested her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm with a content sigh, “But I cannot ignore what the Great Mother has shown me. She has stopped my bow before and now she’s done it a second time. Do you not think it means something, yawne?”

In the corner of her, she watched as his jaw tightened, his features becoming particularly focused. “I do not trust this.”

“You do not trust the Great Mother?”

“That is not what I mean.” He corrected her calmly. Neytiri knew that Tsu’tey, like any other child of Eywa respected her and trusted in her signs. Always had. That was how he was raised. And she knew he wasn’t about to abandon that because of one demon.

But his words were still reluctant, “I do not know where our Great Mother is leading us. I do not know why she wants that demon spared—when she is just like the rest of them.”

Neytiri considered his words, “Perhaps she is like Jake—”

“There is only one Jake. And she is nothing like him.”

She made a sound of disagreement but didn’t push further on the subject. She noticed how tense he was, how tense he had been for the past week. She wondered then if he was truly upset by this or if there was something more to this quiet anger he so carefully restrained. Of course, his hatred for the Sky People was no question.

But Neytiri knew Tsu’tey.

Skin and bone. Heart and soul.

She knew her mate. Not only as a mate but as a friend. They had grown up together. Along with her sister, Sylwanin. There was nothing he could hide from her even if he tried.

“She may not be like Jake. But clearly, the Great Mother has chosen her for a reason. My mother even allows her to stay—I believe it is time you seek the answers.”

Tsu’tey scoffed but didn’t brush her off. Instead, he leaned in closer, allowing his hand to rest on her growing stomach. “You will be a great Tsahik.”

“Not as great as my mother. Nor my sister.”

Tsu’tey shook his head and cupped her cheek, “You will be great, my beautiful heart.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips only to falter when she noticed how exhausted he truly looked. How close he looked to breaking but hiding it. He could never hide it well from her. Nor Jake.

She then took his face in her hands and whispered soothingly, “What is it, my love?”

Knowing that there was no point in denying a response—knowing that Neytiri would not stop until she got what she wanted—Tsu’tey turned away from her to stare back at the compound.

“The Tipani clan are becoming reckless. They already do not like the Sky People that have stayed—but now that the demon has come, I worry they will begin to take matters into their own hands. I worry…that our clans will begin to clash.”

Neytiri took his hand in hers and pressed a gentle kiss onto his knuckles, “If it comes to it, I will stand by you. Jake will too. But I also will ask you to speak to our Great Mother about your troubles.” She caressed his exhausted lines with a small frown, “I worry for you, Tsu’tey. I do not want you to take on this task by yourself. You have Jake and I to be with you. That is why Eywa brought us together.”

Right then, he seemed to consider her words. His gaze was still unfocused while staring at the longhouse. A silence settled between them.

“Eywa has created this new path for us.” Tsu’tey mused. “Somedays I wonder if it will lead to something good in the end.”

“Do you think it won’t?”

He was silent. And Neytiri didn’t push.

When Tsu’tey went to the Vitraya Ramunong, the night had already settled around him. When he went to kneel at the tree, connecting his queue to one of the links, his prayers were silent. But his questions were clear. His intention was pure to the Great Mother.

What does it all mean? Guide me, All Mother.

So when a single atokirina flew away from the tree, Tsu’tey took to following it both out of curiosity and apprehension. The Great Mother’s answers weren’t always clear. If anything, her signs only led to more questions.

So, Tsu’tey wondered. He wondered if this would lead to any more answers.

Or just more unwanted questions.

Tsu’tey rushed through the forest, never losing sight of the spirit. He kept going and going until he was nearing the Sky People’s base. Until the trees suddenly became familiar. Until the grounds he had seen many times before unwillingly began to appear around him.

But his body never stopped moving. He never stopped following it. Too desperate for answers. Too desperate, too yearning.

Oh Eywa, he was yearning.

And then, and then, and then.

And then he was staring down at your still false body.

It was strange. Seeing no life in your face. Tsu’tey had only seen your false body from far away, but now seeing you up close. You looked so different yet the same as your human form.

Why was he here? Why did the spirit bring him to…

No.

His vision rippled. Your body morphed from your human form to your false body—impossible.

And then he woke up.

Awake.

Tsu’tey finally realized where he was. Instead of standing in the middle of the forest chasing an atokirina, instead of standing over your false body, he was back in his hut. With his mates sleeping next to him. With his son cuddled between both Jake and him. With Neytiri hugging his waist from behind.

A dream. It was only a dream.

But why you? Why you?

Why?

“Yawne?” Tsu’tey breathed out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to find Jake shifting out of his sleep, looking at him through heavy eyelids. He sat up a bit, careful not to disturb Neteyam’s sleep as he did, “Another nightmare?”

Tsu’tey hesitated—considered the question. The dream he just had. Was it a nightmare?

“No. I am fine. Go back to sleep, my love.”

Jake didn’t look entirely convinced but eventually lied back down. Usually, it took a while for Jake to fall asleep, so Tsu’tey lay back down, adjusting Neytiri’s arm around his waist and squeezing his other hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake asked, his voice deep and sluggish.

Tsu’tey nodded, and tucked his nose into Neteyam’s cheek as gently as he could, “I am now.”

It took you a little longer to get out of bed the following week. But you managed. You watched a few more of your mother’s logs and even some of the other ones still in the system.

Dr. Augustine. Norm. Some guy named Quaritch. And then there was Jake Sully.

As a human.

You paused the video to examine his face. You suppose the traits matched his now blue form. The only difference was that instead of his longish dreads, he had a buzz cut in the video. And a tattoo poking out of his short sleeve shirt.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget his face for the time being.

You also tried not to think about the fact that Neytiri hadn’t been back for about a week now. Which was normal. You didn’t overthink it. Especially not after that moment—

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget your thoughts about her.

Then you remembered Tsu’tey. Him watching you so closely. You hoped he didn’t see you and Neytiri. Frankly, you weren’t sure what would happen if he did know.

He’d kill you. That’s for sure.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget all three of them.

When you finally got out of bed, you continued with your regular schedule and tried to think of literally anything else. You tended to your garden by yourself and continued checking the baby.

There was a bit of determination for yourself, to keep moving. To not stay in one place any longer or else you’d be stuck.

And you weren’t sure if you’d make it out if you did.

Jake continued visiting the tank room whenever he could.

Today was one of them. Only this time you made it before he did.

“How’s the baby?”

You glanced up briefly from your notes, “Healthy. It might be because Na’vi babies might grow faster in pregnancy—judging by that we might have a couple more months before it’s born.”

Jake nodded, his face serious, “Anything else?”

For a brief second you didn’t respond, too caught up in your thoughts until you realized he had asked you a question. Jake tilted his head, brows furrowed at you.

You shook your head eventually, “No, everything’s all normal.”

He stared at the belly for a moment longer before he left. You were somewhat surprised at his quick retreat but didn’t think much about it. He was some type of great warrior, he was probably busy with something else in his clan. If it meant that the two of you didn’t have to interact much with him anymore or probably a lot shorter than before, then you were okay with it.

It seemed he finally took the hint.

All you could do was keep moving.

Jake came again the next day.

This time around you brought out the ultrasound.

He watched you and the machine intensely. You noticed and gave a sound close to a huff or a snort, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just doing a thorough check-up today.”

A quick look of relief crossed his otherwise exhausted features, “Right, right, of course.”

Once you got the ultrasound running and connected to the avatar, you immediately found the heartbeat with the blurry image of the fetus appearing on the screen. It had grown considerably since the first time you saw it.

“There she is.” You mumbled mostly to yourself. The heartbeat was calming in a way, easing your usual tense muscles.

Jake perked up instantly, staring at you in disbelief, “She? It’s a girl?”

You glanced up at him briefly to find a soft expression on his face upon looking at the fetus. Neteyam—who you just noticed attached to his chest—sleepily snuggled closer to his father’s chest. When his head moved out of the sling, Jake held the back of his head, giving it support.

“Yes.” You gave a short nod.

Another look of relief flashed across his face, this time he didn’t try to hide it like before. A small smile tugged at his lips, “That’s—That’s nice. Amazing.”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him. That easy fatherly expression fell upon his face. How soft his smile was, for something that wasn’t even his. You weren’t sure what to think of it—no, you expected it. It was foreign. A father loving his child. To you at least.

You didn’t know your father. Nor did you have a father figure in your life. That type of love was unfamiliar to you.

Love itself was a foreign concept that you could not yet grasp. The only time you could truly say you experienced something close—similar to love—was with your mother.

And if love was like this—heavy. Leaving you…like this.

You weren’t sure you would want to experience any type of love ever again.

“You sure you’re ready to take on another?” You raised your brows, not looking up from the belly.

Jake looked at you, “Do you care for my answer?”

“I am watching over her. I suppose I should make sure she is left with somewhat tolerable parents—that is, if there aren’t any problems with her when she’s born.” You hummed, rolling your eyes at the sudden look of worry on his face. “Relax, that’s the standard check-up of any baby—well, I don’t know how different it will be compared to human ones.”

A beat went by before he finally answered, “I wouldn’t be honest if I said I wasn’t nervous. What new parent isn’t?”

“Mmm.”

The rest of the session was just the two of you, sitting in a somewhat comfortable silence. Comfortable for you because you were able to ignore him without any problems. And Jake wasn’t being too talkative or apologetic, which was a plus. But he was noticeably less hostile toward you as the time went by. Showing that he was taking the truce quite seriously and keeping his end of the bargain.

In other words, the truce was possibly the best option for you both. You could work in peace without being hammered or interrogated. And Jake would continue his visits without any problems.

You still didn’t like him. And you were sure the feelings were mutual.

But things were becoming easier.

And sometimes you like easy. Just as much as a challenge.

There was a part of him that was curious. Jake didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand Neytiri’s easy trust in you but it only made him more curious as he kept coming to see the baby.

Of course, you were guarded and curt around him. And he was quite the same but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least a little bit interested in why you were so important to their deity.

So many questions.

A part of him wanted to ask Eywa himself—he wasn’t much used to praying to her but he would now and then out of respect for the People. If he asked, he would possibly gain an answer—which was incredibly rare—or he would gain more questions, which was the more common response.

So, Jake took to finding things out for himself. Even if it meant doing it the hard way. Even if it meant getting his head out of his ass and finally putting things into perspective.

Jake Sully was willing to at least keep this tolerable relationship with you going. Keeping this stable cord steady. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was time he had to get used to it. It was time for him to get over himself.

And he was willing to show that he did want something different. That he was ready to change, to finally understand you in a way.

But you still didn’t like him. Which was fine.

He didn’t like himself all that much either.

Another week went by and Neytiri still hadn’t come back. Surprisingly, you found yourself missing her. And when you began missing others, you got angry.

Since you didn’t feel like going through that process again, you resolved yourself to thinking that she must’ve gotten busy with her clan. Or grown tired of watching over you and your depressing personality once she realized that you weren’t a threat to her clan.

That must’ve been it. That’s what you chose to believe at that moment.

One day at a time.

You moved forward. Because you had to.

Throughout the week you focused on your work tending to the garden, checking on the baby, and even taking on more responsibilities around Hell’s Gate.

Sometimes you’d help Dr. Patel in the bio labs, other times you went with the other avatars to train your body. There were also days you would help Norm pack different human items he’d usually bring for the Na’vi children of the Omatikaya Clan. You, of course, never ventured too close to their territory whenever you went with him to drop off the items. You’d either stay in the ship you flew in or stay at the base as he left on his own.

Jake still kept coming around but his time there became shorter and shorter with each visit. Again, you didn’t bat an eye. You welcomed it and continued with your work.

Toward the end of your busy and long week, you woke up with a start when a blaring sound struck your room. It had to have been the middle of the night as you looked around frantically, only to realize the sound was coming from your tablet.

Quickly, you grabbed it to find the alarm was the system alerting you something was wrong.

And the problem was coming from the tank room.

You stumbled out of your bedroom and dashed through the long halls until you finally ended up in the tank room. Not caring that you were probably making a bunch of noise in the process.

When you got to Augustine’s tank, your heart sank when you found Grace’s avatar was violently twitching with the lights inside of the tank blaring a red.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you immediately checked for the problem.

The first thing you checked was the avatar itself. Her heart and the baby’s were fine but the avatar’s was slightly elevated, probably in response to whatever was happening to the machine which was the next thing you began to check.

There you discovered that something in it was malfunctioning. Throwing the liquid temperature off, the placentiums weren’t giving any more nutrients like they were supposed to. Whatever was going on, you didn’t have time to fix it or the machine.

If you wasted time like that more damage could be done and you weren’t going to risk that. Especially when the baby was in there. Especially when the baby could receive the worst of your mistake. Of this malfunction.

So, you worked fast.

You searched the room for an empty tank—which you were able to find and rolled it over next to the one Dr. Augustine’s avatar was in. You pulled the empty tank open just as Norm and a few other scientists entered.

“What happened?!” Norm questioned hastily.

Quickly, you jumped down from the empty tank and rushed toward Grace’s, “It’s malfunctioning. I don’t know why but we have to move her.”

Thankfully, Norm didn’t ask any more questions. He ordered the other scientists to help you.

You worked quickly. Draining the rest of the liquid from the tank, carefully moving the avatar—this required multiple hands—until you placed it in the new tank.

“Track her heart rate.” You ordered one of them.

A second later, a woman responded, “Stable but its body temperature’s dropping fast.”

By the time she said that you closed the tank. “Norm, fill it up.”

You jumped down, grabbed the heart monitor from the female scientist, and watched the lines closely. The tank was nearly filled up as Norm came up beside you.

Along with the heart monitor, your heart pounded through your ears as the tank finally filled up. You gave the monitor to Norm and went to adjust the temperature back to the usual settings.

When the blue lights came on it felt as if the room breathed a huge sigh of relief. You took the monitor back as Norm hummed, “Lucky you were the one to get here first. And quick thinking too—do you know what went wrong with the other one?”

The rest of the scientists poured out of the room as you slowly shook your head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t waste time, Spellman. Not when it could’ve risked the baby.”

Norm nodded and patted your shoulder, “You’re right. Good work, Doc.” He moved to the other side of the tank with a thoughtful expression. “You want me to stay and help with anything else?”

The lines on the monitor were stable, which brought you some sense of comfort. And yet the slight panic remained. “No, no. I’m good here. You can go back to bed. I’ll finish up here soon.”

“Okay.” Norm eventually moved toward the exit. “Get some sleep, Reeds. I’m serious.”

You nodded without looking at him. “Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”

“Good morning.” Norm corrected with a tired grin.

With that, Norm left. You breathed in a steady breath before grabbing a chair from the corner of the lab and sinking onto it. The monitor was kept nearby, the heart rate melodic in your ears as you set your tablet down on your lap.

For a while, you studied how far along the avatar was. It had been a good couple of months since you first discovered the child—which left her at about twenty-four to twenty-seven weeks at least. That’s not even counting when she first got pregnant. But compared to a human, the Na’vi pregnancy went by a lot faster, which also confirmed your theory.

Or maybe your perception of time was fucked up with how distracted and busy you had been.

Was that why the malfunction happened? Were you too distracted to notice any faults in the system during your usual sessions? What did happen?

You contemplated this for a while. Until your mind became hazy and your eyes droopy. At some point, you fell asleep next to the tank because there was no way you would leave the fetus’ side at that point. Not after all of that.

It felt as if your eyes had been closed for only a couple of seconds before you were suddenly jolted awake to find Norm standing over you.

“What happened? Is it the tank again?” You instantly asked, turning to check on the tank.

“No, no, no—the—she’s fine!” Norm quickly assured while easing you back into your chair. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

You stared at him for a beat, both a tired and an annoyed expression easily falling upon your face. “Well, I assure you I certainly wasn’t sitting with my eyes closed just then.”

Norm winced, “Sorry. I thought you’d want to get in your own bed before Jake gets here.” He rubbed the back of his neck as you got up from the chair. “I had to tell him what happened—he’s flying over now.”

“That’s fine.” You grumbled. “I can stand just one day in the same room with him. Besides, I should probably figure out what went wrong with that tank.”

Norm nodded, “Okay—uh, should I be a mediator for the both of you or..?”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m meeting their clan leader.”

“You really need to try and get along with him.” Norm chuckled with a shake of his head.

You scowled, “Are you going to keep yapping in my ear about it or be useful?”

“Alright, alright, don’t an ass.” He strolled toward the doorway. “Jake’ll be here in fifteen.”

Once he left, you got to work again. You weren’t an official engineer but you knew a good amount of information from your training back on Earth. You hoisted yourself up and into the tank before you began taking it apart. You stood in it, trying to find out what exactly had gone wrong—while glancing at the heart monitor now and then.

Your brain was moving quickly yet hazily from the sleep. Eyes honed in on the mess of wires in front of you. So distracted by your silent questions and theories that you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps. Only the voice that followed after.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” You replied immediately, watching in the corner of your eye as he approached the new tank. His hair was tied back and across his chest was a leather strap that carried what looked like a machete. “It was just a malfunction with the tank. We were able to get her out before any real damage could be done.”

Jake frowned, “Malfunction? How the hell did you let that happen?!”

“Look, I don’t know.” You replied calmly, ignoring the twitch in your jaw. “I’m still trying to figure all that out. But she’s out of it and fine. Norm helped if that makes you feel better—”

“I thought you had things handled? What happened to that?” Jake scowled, his tone vicious.

“I do.”

“Then what the hell happened—”

“I already said I don’t know!” You seethed, glaring down at the group of wires now hanging from your hands. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you realized that Norm really did have to stand between the two of you. That this truce wasn’t stable enough. That the two of them were just too explosive. “The hell do you think I’m trying to do? Kill the baby?!”

You missed the way Jake’s face faltered slightly, catching himself. “No…No, that’s not what I—”

“Then get off my fucking dick!” You snapped, throwing a piece of the tank to the floor with a clatter.

All sound was gone from the room then.

This was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Being scolded like some child—like you already weren’t beating yourself up over this mess.

You sunk onto the floor of the tank and continued working. Because that’s what you were best at. Not conversations. Not people. Not love.

Work. It was everything to you.

Already you were mentally drowning Jake out, ignoring the fact that there was another person in the room with you. But eventually, you realized that there was nothing wrong with the wires. It must’ve been something else. Another theory down the drain.

Jake uttered your name at one point. And you ignored him.

There was a sigh followed by a short pause before he spoke, “I’m sorry.” You continued ignoring him. There was something about his apologies. You were just tired of them. “That wasn’t fair, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come at you like that—”

“Augustine’s avatar is over there.” You mumbled. “You can check on her yourself.”

There was another silence but you were too focused on what was in front of you to notice or care. You were so determined to ignore him and the sting in the corners of your eyes.

You didn’t like to cry. Especially in front of others.

Thankfully, you ignored him long enough until you realized you were finally alone.

After a while, you breathed out a tired sigh.

Fortunately, as the days went by there were no other problems with the new tank or baby, but it didn’t stop you from always double-checking everything after that close call. So much so that you didn’t realize how much sleep you were missing until Norm pulled you away from your work and forced you back into your room. Locked the door and everything just to make his point.

With the promise of Norm taking care of your work, you eventually allowed yourself to sleep for practically the entire day. Not without the tablet on the dresser next to your bed of course.

Even after catching up on some semblance of sleep, Norm still didn’t let you get back to your schedule right away. Which irritated you of course.

“I don’t want you in my garden, Spellman.”

He rolled his eyes, “And I don’t want you stressing yourself out. As your friend and colleague who happens to care about your well-being, I demand you stay away from the garden until you’re completely rested.”

You frowned at him, “We’re friends?”

“Shut up and accept my love.”

And he kept true to his word. Norm kept you away from the gardens, even the tank room. And made sure that the scientists knew how to keep you away as well. He covered all of his bases.

Damn him.

You couldn’t sit around and do nothing though. So, at some point you were so desperate you resorted to practically begging Norm to just give you something to do that would distract you throughout the whole day. You nagged and nagged and nagged until Norm finally gave in.

“There’s an old link shack north of Hell’s Gate. We’ve been thinking about restoring all of them around the area. But that particular shack’s connection is a little wonky. Maybe you could head over and restock the supplies with your avatar. Maybe even fix the connection while you’re at it.”

You nodded quickly, “Yeah, sure thing. I’ll get on that—”

“And don’t try to sneak your way to the gardens!” Norm added sternly, sending you a look over his shoulder while clicking away at his computer. “Plus, you won’t need the Samson ships. The shack’s not too far from here.”

With that, you went to grab supplies, such as med kits, weapons—one gun and a few stacks of ammo—blankets, Na’vi weapons, a hunting knife, and a bow with a few arrows. You kept the hunting knife to yourself just in case.

After getting all of this, you placed the bag of supplies in the compound longhouse where your avatar always slept when you weren’t linked. Once you got to your link bed and linked up with your avatar, you grabbed the hunting knife and the bag of supplies before taking off north from Hell’s Gate.

The sky was grey today with a few darker clouds on the horizon instead of the shimmering blue you were used to. A storm might’ve been coming.

Which meant you had to make this trip quick. There was no telling how bad these storms could get on this planet.

Similar to how you traveled through the forest with Neytiri, you took to the trees so that you’d have less of a chance of running into or disturbing any of Pandora’s finest. Hopefully, you had learned to be quiet enough to not draw any attention your way as well.

As time went by, the sky got darker. You followed the coordinates Norm gave you while slipping through the trees like the true shadow you were. Traveling and climbing through the trees got easier as you went. You had done it enough times with Neytiri that you knew what to do and how to do it. Albeit not perfectly, but enough to get by. Blending into the environment as best as you could.

You enjoyed it, the vibrant life and colors of the forest once again. Every time felt like you were taking in Pandora for the very first time. Every time felt like a huge breath of the freshest air. Here, you were weightless. You weren’t a scientist. You weren’t human. You weren’t an avatar. You were just were.

You existed here. You were real.

Truly this place was everything you dreamed of when you were younger.

Rain began to pour by the time you spotted the shack. It was propped up and well hidden in a large tree, with moss growing out of the sides, the entire thing looking like it hadn’t been used in a long time.

You slid down from a branch as quietly as you could and landed in front of the metal entrance. By the time you got the door open and crouched inside, you were soaking wet from the rain.

The shack itself wasn’t too small, which surprised you. It must’ve been made to allow avatars to be able to roam freely through here without too much trouble.

Once the door was closed, you sunk onto the empty cot in the corner of the shack and began unpacking the supplies. The med kit went into the cabinets above a wooden table attached to the wall. The blankets went on the cot. The gun and ammo went under the cot in a long black case filled with old and rusted weapons you had to throw out into the rain. You kept the hunting knife tucked in your shorts.

The rain kept going. It was relaxing. Stopping for a moment to listen. Smelling it through the cracked window next to the cot you sat on.

It was nice. You could stay here if you wanted. This could’ve been your new home if you didn’t have responsibilities at Hell’s Gate.

Lastly, you worked on the radio that sat on the wooden table—which you assumed was connected to the main base. So, for the next few minutes, you took your time messing with the radio. Listening to either ongoing static or barely audible voices going in and out. At some point, you messed with the wires a few times before Norm’s voice finally came through.

“Tomato. Tomato. Tomato.”

You pressed one of the buttons, “Hey, Norm.”

“Oh, Jesus! Reeds!” Norm startled. “Warn a guy next time!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, “I just wanted to test if it worked. Clearly, I fixed it.”

A snap of thunder drew you away from the radio. Seemed like it was getting worse out there. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out there until now.

Norm seemed to realize this too, “You gonna stay there and unlink?”

“Mmm.” You paused. “I’m gonna try bringing the avatar back.”

He sighed, “Alright, good luck.”

“Don’t need it.” You said as you got up. “I’m too awesome.”

“Whatever, Reeds.”

Another clap of thunder filled the air as you stepped out of the shack. Immediately you were soaked by how heavy the rain was.

Thunder continued to boom, making your skin jump every now and then. It was just terribly cold, making you start to run so that you could get out of it faster.

You ran and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, only to realize just how much noise you were making and that the area was too unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t long until you realized how lost you were. It was just too dark to navigate your way back or recognize any familiar spots guiding your way.

With that in mind, you went toward the nearest tree and began to climb.

But your body was yanked away from the tree bark almost instantly as you were tackled down to the ground by a large weight. Your left shoulder exploded with vicious pain as if a bunch of sharp knives buried itself into your skin and continued to tear through it.

A strangled scream left your lips as the thunder clapped in the sky once more. You could barely see the creature but it was a dark, large beast. Digging further into your shoulder.

You hadn’t even seen it coming. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Now…

Now you might die because of it.

You tried shoving at it, managing to get most of its weight off of you. But the teeth were still in your shoulder. There was still pain. There was still warm liquid dripping down your arm.

When you moved your leg, you remembered the hunting knife in your shorts. Immediately, you dug into your pocket and found the handle instantly.

After that, you didn’t waste any time stabbing at it blindly and desperately. You did this, you kept going until more warm liquid covered your knife-wielding arm. You did this until the animal was limp against your body. Until you were able to push it off and scramble to your feet and run.

The pain was awful but bearable enough for you to run back to the shack at least. Mud was all over your clothes—some of it in your mouth. If anything, you probably looked insane right now.

You ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Way too clumsy to be quiet. What’s worse was you had no clue where you were. And there was more shuffling coming from the bushes and trees surrounding you. If anything, you were probably throwing yourself further into the lion’s den.

It wasn’t long until a black creature suddenly came out of the bushes in front of you, causing you to stumble to a stop as it made its way toward you. Sleek and dangerous. Eyes locked on you.

Thunder boomed again. An identical creature came out from your right. Another on your left. Another. And another. And another.

Until you were surrounded. Until you knew there was no way you were going to make it out of this.

You kept your knife in front of you, trying to ignore the pain in your shoulder, the warm liquid running down your arm, the shakiness in your legs. You began to wonder how much blood you were losing with your energy slowly dwindling as time went by—no, it didn’t matter.

Damn it, you weren’t going to die here! Not like this.

“Come on!” You hissed as you pointed the knife at them. “Come on!”

They growled at you, closing in. Finally, one of them pounced toward you. With the knife, you slashed at it. At that, the creature cringed away and missed you entirely but that didn’t mean the others were going to try their luck.

Out of instinct, you stumbled back as two more tried coming for you. Your back hit a tree as you yelled and swung your knife wildly at them.

Only neither the creature nor your blow landed.

The two creatures were thrown to the side as another clap of thunder struck your ears.

Another figure emerged from the trees and rushed toward you.

Instantly, you swung the knife, only for it to be caught in an iron grip.

You screamed.

“Hey, hey, easy!”

It took you only a couple of moments for you to register the words and that they were coming from a familiar avatar. The last person you ever expected to be here.

Jake lowered your arm with a hiss. You blinked as another round of thunder rattled your ears.

The creatures were closing in again. Jake turned his back to you, hissing at them. His larger arm stretched in front of you protectively when one of them got a little too close for his liking. The creature hissed back

You watched warily behind him, still clutching the dirtied knife. Both of you exhausted and animalistic. Yellow eyes glimmering. One with warning and the other with desperation.

Jake looked terrifying in this light. Just as murderous and dangerous as the animals that surrounded you.

You remained behind him, trembling but glaring. Gripping that knife like your life depended on it.

There was suddenly more shuffling, more thunder, and the creatures then scattered.

You, dumbfounded by this, spoke shakily, “Why did they—”

Jake grabbed your wrist holding the knife.

“We need to move.” He said, dragging you forward.

The two of you ran in the opposite direction of the creatures. He hauled you up a tree before climbing up himself. “Is there a link shack nearby?”

For a moment, you wondered how he knew about the link shacks. You leaned on a branch both to catch your breath and because the quick movements left you a bit dizzy. When you couldn’t come up with plausible answers to your silent question you instead said, “I just came back from one. North from here—I don’t know how far it is.”

Your body leaned a little too far. Jake was quick to grab you in his stronger, more stable arms as he pulled you away from falling off the edge, “Hey, hey, Reeds, I need you here with me, okay? Just stay awake long enough until we get to the shack and we’ll clean you up.”

“I’ve...I’m losing a lot of…” Blood. Blood was what you wanted to say. But the adrenalin was wearing out. Your shoulder throbbed horribly. Exhaustion weighed you down and placed inconvenient black spots in your vision.

“I know.” He draped your good arm over his shoulder and kept you upright. “I know, we’ll get there. I promise.”

There was no arguing with him. You were soaked to the bone and in a hell of a lot of pain. Going back to the shack was your best bet in this horrid weather.

Jake continued to support your weight as the two of you followed the same coordinates leading back to the shack—or rather you haze inaudible directions of what you could remember from the information Norm had given you while Jake haphazardly followed.

Thankfully, the rest of the way wasn’t a long journey. Or maybe you just kept blacking in and out along the way, you didn’t know.

Jake and you stumbled through the door of the shack. He closed the door while you made your way to the radio with whatever strength you had left.

“Norm.” You tapped the radio while wincing. The pain in your shoulder was getting worse. Before now you had been tolerating it. “Norm, can you hear me?”

The static went on.

“Storm must be messing with the signal,” Jake said from behind you as he rummaged through the shack. “We should stay here until the storm settles—”

You rested your head against the small table, the rest of his words becoming nothing but muffled noise to your ears. God, you’ve lost so much blood. And you were so tired.

For a moment, just for a few seconds, you wanted to sleep. Only for a moment.

“Reeds.”

A larger hand rested on the back of your neck, bringing you slightly out of your unconsciousness.

Jake kept calling your name. “Hey, where’s the med kits at? We need to work on your arm, okay? And I need you to stay awake. Can’t have you unlinking in this condition.”

Sluggishly, you nodded, “They’re in the cabinets.”

More thunder rolled by. Jake left your side briefly to search through the cabinets above you. You leaned back in your seat, staring bleakly up at the ceiling.

“How long do these storms last?” You asked.

The thunder responded with a clap.

sorry for the long wait! hopefully it was all worth the wait. another 8k chapter, yay, that wasn't difficult to write at all lol! but now jake and reeds are alone in a shack. anything could happen....

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

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cyberkitty1 · 10 months

Text

Twin au /e!42 Miles and e!1610 Miles

Warnings: reader is female & mentions of like fighting

inspo from: @moodysunflowerbaby

GO READ WHAT THEY MAKE BC WOOOWEEE I CANT STOP GIGGLING!

I AM SOOOO EASILY INFLUENCED I CANTTT

How did you meet?

middle school you have classes with the both of them but 42 neverrr shows up. So when he does and 1610 doesnt, youre going crasy!

“ hey miles! you got the braids you have been talking about done? I like em’ on you; suit your face well.”

he just looks at you sideways ”nah im not miles im Mylo, Miles is my identical twin”

you sit there mouth open “ but you look exactly the same its crazy!” he gives you a look like youre dumb ” yea… identical twins.”

after that you would bother them about twin stuff like crazyyy

“ ok miles whats he thinking?” “ getting new shoes” you look at Mylo “REALLY?” “No” they say in unison.

“ wait if you are the same then do you share everything?” you say out of pure curiosity. Mylo looks at you with the most annoyed fave he could muster” no i don’t let his musty self touch my stuff” miles looks at him “ we doin this here?” “ ill do it wherever hermano”

dating one while being friends with the other (42)

you spend a lot of times in your room bc if you try to leave rio makes you take Mikes with you HAHAHA

“ooo that sounds fun! take your brother” shes says walking away “ on second thought we just gonna stay here” Mylo says walking you back to his room.

MILES NEVER KNOCKS!!

You guys dont do anything you wouldnt do in front of his mom but when Miles walks in asking for shoes or jewelry Mylo still gets annoyed.

“ tomorrow night we should go to the mall and then get dinner at-“

“Hey can i borrow some dunks?”

“ hey can you take yourself out of MY room before I remove YOU myself? What I tell you bout nocking?”

“ my bad” he says walking out

(1610)

Mylo pays like 0 mind but it still shocks him that he can pull yk? Not that Mylo likes you but how can his little brother that 0 shocking things about him get a girl?? just shocking.

“ you know what I think bout?”

“hm”

“ that you got a girl acting and looking like that”

“ nigga what? WE LOOK THE SAME”

Miles is so annoying about having a gf i cant

“ Mylo, yk what i got that you don’t have?”

“what”

“ A GIRLFRIEND” ( insert crazy ugly laugh)

GAURD. DOGS.

I AM SCREAMING

Imagine like guys dont like you and its a dumb reason like you rejected them and people dont know yall are frinds so they talk MAD SMACK about you and Miles and Mylo they egg egg them on to beat you up at a said location but they show up instead and get put on a hospital bed HAHA

^ do as you wish with that but if u use it LMK I GOTTA READ IT

______________________

taglist @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo

______________________

side part NOT part 2 here

my taglist is open so please fill THIS out!!

if you filled it out and were NOT mentioned please dm me!!

i also cut my finger so writing is kind of difficult so bear with me 🤭

#miles morales #earth 42 miles #miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #fluff #across the spiderverse #e1610 miles #e1610 morales x reader #e1610 #twin au #Morales Twins #earth 1610 miles #female reader #cyberkitty1

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pixiecaps · 4 months

Text

Empanada: I don’t know why. They are my family but I don’t like so many (people) knowing where we live.

Bagi: Oh, that’s okay. If you want we can remove the waystones later and then place it back. Or, Empanada, okay, I’m going to tell you something very important. Come with me.

(Bagi & Em walk to the next room over and Bagi sits)

Bagi: We can sit here. It is not wrong and it is not ugly to ask people not to invade your space. If you don’t want to receive them in your house you can always say that in a polite manner. People need to obey your space as well. And if you don’t want to receive them in your home, it is all good. Okay? It is not impolite and it is not a bad thing. It is just you asking for your space.

Empanada: I just wanted to show them our home yes, but not that they can all just come here. I’m sorry idk why but it’s making me really nervous. I feel bad since they are my family.

Bagi: It’s alright.

Empanada: I don’t know how to say it but it feels like I’m suffocating. I want to trust and I DO but I just don’t want to-

Bagi: (To Jorge) I understand her. She wants to show her home to others but she doesn’t want them showing up unannounced or without a reason.

Empanada: -remove the waystones. Well I do. But there- Ugh. I don’t know. (Walks away)

(Bagi follows shortly after her and finds Em in her room hiding in a hole)

Bagi: (Gently) Empanada I’m going to wait for you here on the carpet and whenever you want you can sit here and talk with me.

(Em leaves the holes and goes to Bagi)

Bagi: Here Em. It’s very important for you to know that there’s no problem with telling people what you would and wouldn’t like them to do. Like for example, you can explain to the other eggs and the people that you’d like to show your place, your home, that it’s just for them to come here when they're invited.

(Empanada nods)

Bagi: That way they will know they need to respect your space and everyone will be a little happier. Because I’m sure your siblings will understand and will always ask you first if they can come to the house or not. Would that make you feel better?

Empanada: I think so. I don’t want anyone to just come here.

Bagi: Right. So it’s very important for you to explain to you siblings that you like them a lot but you also really like being alone. And that you’d like for them to only come to your home when you invite them.

(Empanada nods)

Bagi: That way they will understand that they cannot come at any time. And also you will feel safer in your own home. Right? The majority of problems, generally, can be solved with people talking. But sometimes having those conversations can be a bit difficult. So, if you need help then I can help you explain to the other eggs that you enjoy your privacy and you like being alone more. And that when you want company you will invite them to come here.

Empanada: Can you help me? (Tell the other eggs) And can I maybe have a hug?

Bagi: Yea, of couse, of couse I can help you! It’s obvious I will help you. And here’s your hug.

(Bagi and Em hug)

#qsmp

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juneknight · 1 year

Text

obsessed || 2

Part One

About this: college au. dorm room!marc/fem!reader. Oral sex (f receiving) No I don't edit or proofread my works, thanks for asking!

Immersivity: reader is given no overt physical description and no name. Details about her figure/body could be assumed based on the fact that she wears a pair of Marc's stollen pajama pants. It is referenced that she comes from a sex-negative household. Any further details which hinder your immersive experience are welcome to be pointed out to me.

That’s how he gets you sitting ramrod straight on the center cushion of the couch, knees pressed so tightly together that not even the holy ghost could come between them, both hands covering your face. Marc sits cross legged at your feet, laughing at you. With your eyes covered, he can let his face relax from its cold, neutral expression into one of mesmerized fondness. You have that effect on him. You melt him into something liquid and soft.

God, he’s a fucking idiot. It’s hard enough living with you now; how is he meant to go on the way things have been once he’s had a taste of you? How is he supposed to listen to you gargle in the bathroom knowing he’s had his mouth on you? His excuse—being pent up and craving pussy—is thin enough for him to see through. Marc’s been jerking off plenty enough at night (and in the shower, and anytime you’re in class and he has the dorm room to himself), and he’s had a handful of opportunities that could have opened the door for sex though he hadn’t followed through with them.

Because he wants you.

“Come on,” he says, tapping your shin. His eyes linger on the way his pajama pants fit you. You don’t even fucking know what it does to him to see you prancing around in his clothes. With your eyes covered, he feels safe enough to reach down and palm his cock which is aching beneath the denim of his jeans. The little bit of friction helps and hurts all at once. “Spread ‘em.”

“I’m shy,” you bark at him.

The naivete would be a turn off if he didn’t know you better. In the majority of situations, you’re far from inexperienced, and he has never known you to be shy in the classroom or at parties. But after many nights similar to this (spent talking about anything and everything), he knows that you grew up in a household where sex was viewed very particularly. Those long-ingrained doctrines have been difficult to unlearn, no matter how much you want to.

“Hey,” he says. “Just be honest with me. Don’t say yes just because you think I want to. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to.”

You lower your hands. “It’s not that I don’t want…to. I’m just scared.”

Scared. Marc tends to have that effect on people; he’s been told that he’s too deadpan, too intense, too cold. You aren’t the only one holding on to a less than stellar childhood. Even though you had skirted a safe perimeter around him for the first few days you’d shared classes together, you’d been quick to see something in him that others hadn’t. Something that Marc didn’t even see in himself. Always though the fear comes creeping in, the fear that you’re afraid of him.

He has to know—whether it hurts or not, he has to know. “What are you scared of, baby? Me? Me…accidentally hurting you like that last guy did?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. His shoulders lower but jaw remains tight. He isn’t sure if he believes you. “I know that you wouldn’t hurt me. And you’re probably a lot more careful than that other guy was. I guess I just…don’t know what you’re getting out of it. What if you think I’m disgusting?”

“I literally spent fifteen minutes earlier waxing poetry about eating pussy. If you think I’m not going to thoroughly enjoy myself, then you’re wrong, and for what it’s worth—you could never disgust me.” Honest, too honest, Marc, some voice warns from the back of his mind. He lifts one hand to let it rest below your knee, gently clasping your shin. “If you want it, I want it. Let me make this good for you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. His heart pounds when, marginally, your knees begin to open. Marc lets his thumb drift down from the top of your knee down and inward, breaching the newly open space and rubbing your leg softly through the flannel pajama pants. “Okay. What should I do?”

“You should probably take your pants off.” Then, he thinks about it. “No, wait, just stand up. Let me take them off of you.”

Then you’re standing, calves pressed against the couch cushions when Marc doesn’t move back to give you any room. He’s eye level with the crotch of your pajamas. Glancing up at you, he’s surprised to see your eyes already on him, wide and unblinking, staring down at him with something akin to amazement. The moment is almost enough to make his head spin. Here he is, on his knees for you, about to undress you and put his mouth on you.

His hands come up and rest at your waist, thumbing at your hips until he sinks his fingertips over and beneath the waistband of the pajama pants. He lets his fingers brush against the top elastic band of your panties and you shiver above him.

And god help him. God help him because—

“Remember when I said that when a woman is really wet, you can smell her?” he rasps, pulling his thumb free to trace a vertical line from the waistband down towards the top of your mound, stopping just centimeters above where your clit must be. Feeling like he’s about to be torn apart, Marc leans in and nuzzles against the crotch of your pants. He inhales sharply the smell of you. The smell of you wet for him. “Fuck, I love it. Fuck, fuck. Can I take these off?”

You nod, but that isn’t the enthusiasm he wants.

“Can you say it?”

You clear your throat. “Yes. You can take them off.”

With all the care of handling crystal, he peels them from your hips and slips them down your thighs, eyes tracing the newly exposed skin before zeroing in on your panties. They are a pale lilac, cute and sensible compared to some of the other pairs he’s seen in the laundry hamper on the rare occasion that he lifts the lid to put his own clothes inside. He clenches his jaw trying to hold himself back from leaning in and pulling your panties down with his fucking teeth. Gentler than he feels, he guides your hips back until you sit heavily on the couch. With care, he slips the pants off of your feet and brushes them aside, kneeling up onto his knees and then resting back on his heels.

“Open up,” he murmurs, staring at your cloth-covered cunt. “Spread your legs for me.”

You do. As soon as your knees spread just a few handbreadths apart, Marc groans, a punched-out sound. The crotch of your panties are soaked a darker purple, clinging to your cunt so that his eyes can just barely trace your folds.

“Holy fuck, look at you,” he says. “You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you? Look at this.”

Both of your hands fly up to cover your eyes. He makes an unhappy sound in the back of his throat. You crack open your fingers an inch so you can look down at his raised brow. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face. It will help me know if I’m doing something wrong. Or something right.”

Fighting what must be your instinctual urge to hide, you lower your hands to your sides and clench them into tight fists. You’re being so brave for him, for yourself. Marc drags his palms up and down the sides of your calves, relishing the cool softness of your skin and trying to ease your tense muscles.

“Tell me what he did wrong,” Marc says, breath fanning across your bare thighs. “How did it hurt? I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you.”

“‘m sensitive,” you grumble.

Marc breathes a laugh. “Yeah, it’s your pussy, I bet it’s sensitive. How sensitive, though? Was it too much when he was using his tongue? Or was he using his teeth?”

“The tongue was fine,” you say, speaking about it the way you might a mediocre appetizer you’ve been served at a restaurant. Marc holds his jealousy in a tightly closed fist. Now isn’t the time to be jealous of some young boy who couldn’t even make you feel good. Now is Marc’s turn. “But he—oh my god, I hate you, I can’t say this shit out loud Marc.”

“Tell me,” he murmurs, unable to help leaning in to press the softest kiss against your knee. Your chest hitches at the contact, a movement his eyes track but his mind doesn’t understand.

“He was…”

“Was…”

“Sucking on me. On my clit. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t so anxious. If I was turned on like, at all.”

“Consider it noted,” Marc says, refusing to pat his own back by pointing out how turned on you seem right now. Then with gentle pressure (to give you plenty a chance to refuse him) he coaxes you to spread your thighs wide and then wider.

“Shouldn’t I take off my underwear?” you ask.

“Not if you might be too sensitive,” says Marc. “Come here. Slouch down.”

You shift around, but not nearly low enough for his liking. So he slips his hands beneath you, cupping your ass and pulling until your cunt is at the edge of the couch, inches from his waiting mouth. The squeal you give has him pursing his lips to keep from laughing. His strength always seems to surprise you.

Gazing up at you, he waits for you to nod before he turns his head and lays a soft kiss on the tender skin inside your thigh. Above him, you exhale shakily. The feeling of your skin beneath his lips has his head buzzing. He begins dragging his mouth upwards, his kisses growing ever-more open mouthed until he is blatantly tasting your skin. His eyes flicker shut as he inhales noisily, the scent of your arousal making his cock twitch. He switches thighs.

A sound slips through the back of your throat, something high and breathy. A whine. Marc’s eyes flash open at the sound, flickering all across your face for any hint of pain. But he doesn’t find it. If anything, you look fucked out: mouth parted, eyes heavy lidded. He hasn’t even fucking touched you.

I can do this, he thinks. I can make you feel good.

He softly sucks blood to the surface of your skin until you can’t seem to sit still, thighs tensing beneath his mouth. When he opens his eyes, your panties are even wetter. Enough teasing the both of you, he thinks. He shifts and drags the tip of his curved nose up the seam of your clothed cunt, nudging so softly against the apex.

“Oh my god,” you mutter above him, sounding about as wrecked as some of his past partners did when he was already finished with them.

He’s losing it. He can feel it, the threads of his control fraying beneath the sharp edges of his desire for you. Never does he think that he wouldn’t be able to stop if you asked him to or if you gave any indication that you weren’t enthusiastically enjoying his work, but he wants to make sure that you know you’re in control. You’re in control of him, no matter how consumed he appears.

“If you want me to stop, you say the fucking word okay?” he rasps. His lips brush against your underwear and come away faintly sticky with slick. He doesn’t even let himself lick it from his lips, not yet. “And if I’m not stopping fast enough for your liking, gouge my goddamn eyes out, you hear me?”

He waits until you give a frantic bob of your head. Then he licks the flat of his tongue up the soaked crotch of your panties. It’s hard to tell who groans loudest. You taste good. His jaw aches the way it does when he sucks on something sweet, mouth salivating. He laps at you again and again, careful not to be too forceful. Your thighs clench tight around his head and he has to pull them away and pin them open wide to the couch so that he can move the way he wants to.

“Is—am I—” Marc begrudgingly opens his eyes to see you struggling to speak. He struggles to keep his gaze on you. The taste of you in his mouth, the feel of your warm skin beneath his hands, the serenity of this moment all has his eyes wanting to roll back. It takes a herculean effort to pull his mouth from you, to lay his head on your thigh taking deep breaths through his nose while waiting for you to collect your thoughts. You finally manage to ask: “Am I—gross?”

Marc blinks. “Are you gross? Baby who the hell hurt you?”

It’s your turn to blink down at him. “What?”

“Who in the fuck has put you so deep inside your head that you can’t see I’m sixty seconds away from cumming in my pants because you taste so fucking good? Because you smell so fucking good? Because you sound so fucking good? You know what. Don’t answer that—” Marc reaches backwards towards the coffee table, finding the flier he’d written on earlier: HOMETOWN DICK is scrawled there. He slaps it on the couch cushion beside you along with the capless pen. “—write it down if you can and I’ll get to them later.”

He lets saliva pool on his tongue before his next lick of you. Between his spit and your own slick, your thighs are wet and sticky, panties soaked. He can’t help but reach up to tug upwards at the waistband just a bit, just so the fabric rides up flush against your pussy so he can see every last curve and fold of you. The stimulation of the fabric must feel good because you whine—honest to god whine, your pelvis giving the most adorable little arches as you try to decide whether to press into the stimulation or press away from it so that his hand draws the fabric against you tighter.

Marc has to let go to keep your thighs spread as they try to creep in closer to his ears. His eyes are shut as he laps at you with long, firm strokes, alternating directions, doing his best to be gentle in case you’re as sensitive as you think. Periodically he glances up to make sure you’re okay, and that is when he notices the way your hands are clenched into fists, shaking with the force you’re using to keep them still. He reaches out. Your fingers are cool beneath his, and at the first touch, your hand opens up, blossoming like a flower so he can lace your fingers together. He smiles against your pussy—he hadn’t intended to hold hands, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to turn it down.

“Put your hands in my hair,” he says. He gently shakes his head from side to side letting the flat of his tongue rub against your clit. Your gasp makes your chest heave, fingers clamping down around his. Fuck, yes. You just need something you can pull on. “C’me on, baby, you can get rough with me.”

Your eyes are wet, wide as you shakily move your hands to his hair. The feel of your fingers in his curls is divine. His lashes flutter. “Yeah?” you breathe. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me, baby, I love it, okay?”

You tug a little. His cock jerks where it’s still confined in denim. “But what if you need to breathe?”

“Don’t care,” he says. “Drown me in your pussy, I do not fucking care. Okay?”

“Ma-arc,” you whine, thighs spasming. “God Marc, please—”

He groans, pausing to lap at your thighs, to clean up the mess he’s making. “Please what, baby? I’ll give you anything, just ask for it.”

“Just—don’t stop, please—”

And he doesn’t. He has no plans to. Not when his scalp is alight with the way you pull at every new movement of his tongue, not when you’re so fucking vocal, whining his name and little pleas and nonsensical strings of words that will forever echo in his brain. He doesn’t know how you manage to touch yourself so quietly at night when you think he’s asleep, when the only indications he gets that you’re touching yourself at all are the little shifts of the bed, the way you hold your breath before you cum, and (sometimes, on nights when you must be really, really worked up) the occasional wet sound of your fingers slipping over your clit.

“Marc, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp.

Marc’s heart stutters in his chest. He finds one of his hands lowering, aching to press a finger or two inside of you so that he can feel the clench of your pussy when he pushes you over the edge. But that’s just another good reason why he left your panties on; the last thing he needs is to push your boundaries in the heat of the moment, to lose his head and maybe take a liberty that would hurt you. He lets his thumb press against your soaked panties though, notching itself against your entrance even through the fabric. His jaw aches, legs numb from where he’s kneeling on them, but nothing could stop him now. Nothing.

He focuses on the aching little knot of your clit, letting his tongue rasp over it until your back bows off of the couch, your breath stuttering and then stopping altogether the way he’s already so familiar with. Your fingers spasm in his hair, nearly losing your grip and then you’re pulling him closer, his nose pressed into your pubic bone, thighs shivering and shaking while you give a short cry.

You came. You are cumming. Because of him. For him. He can feel the way your entrance spasms beneath the firm press of his thumb, and he lets himself imagine how that would feel around his cock. There’s no harm in just thinking about it. If thinking it were a sin, Marc’s soul would be lost long ago.

Just as he expects you to come down, he finds you doing the opposite.

“Don’t stop, don’t don’t, please, I can cum again—can I? Please—”

Marc lets out a broken moan, nodding his head. Fuck it does things to him, hearing you beg, hearing you ask him for permission, like he has more of a say when you cum than you do. But you are pushing him back suddenly, and he jerks away as if he has been burned, eyes wide—had he had a time-slip? Had he missed something, some indication that you really wanted him to stop and not continue?

But all you do is shift your hips up, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and wrenching them down over your thighs, knees, tossing them to the side. He pulls his eyes away from where he’s dying to let them rest so that he can look at your face: damp at your temples, lips swollen from biting them. Your chest is heaving, and out of the corner of his eye he sees your hands clutch into fists again, suddenly anxious, exposed—

Exposed for him. Because you wanted to be. Because you chose to be.

Marc lets his eyes fall, takes in your swollen pussy, slick with your own cum, and not to get fucking philosophical, but he’s pretty sure that it’s going to change his life. He wants it. He wants his mouth on it. He finds himself being drawn in like your pussy is a fucking siren and he’s ready to dash his ship on the fucking rocks just to drown in it happily. He barely manages to stop himself at the last moment.

“Can I?” he rasps.

“Please,” you groan.

He swipes his tongue from your entrance to your clit. Your taste is so much more concentrated like this, a little salt and a little sweet. He can’t help but press his tongue inside you as deep as your pussy will allow, his head nearly spinning when he feels the way you clench down softly, like you’re trying to keep him inside you. Then there is a sharp tug of his hair as you drag him back upwards a fraction.

“My clit, please, pleasepleaseplease—”

His eyes nearly roll. Fuck, he loves when you’re a little bossy. He loves when you’re confident, loves to see you chasing what feels good without letting your insecurities get in the way. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks sweetly, letting his tongue flicker over it. Only a few moments have passed since your last orgasm, and it’s clear that you’re heading towards another with the way your nails dig into his scalp, your breaths coming more and more stuttered. Beneath your breath, all you can repeat is fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.

This time when you cum, you shriek. The volume of it clearly surprises you because it sends you into trilling peels of laughter that have him grinning even as he struggles to focus on prolonging your pleasure, letting his teeth graze over you just to see the way your laughter cuts off and your back arches, a gasp pulled from deep within your chest.

“Holy fuck, Marc,” you gasp wetly. “Oh my god. I want to go for a third. Can I?”

“Fuck, you’re one of those girls,” he laughs breathily. “And you thought you were too sensitive. Yeah, baby. Three for three sounds good.”

This time his jaw just can’t keep up. You don’t seem to mind when braces a hand against your lower tummy and lets his thumb rub the slick little nub. The exhaustion of your all-nighter has clearly caught up to the both of you. He nearly loses himself watching the way your thighs go lax, utterly relaxed in your pleasure. Your head tilts on your neck like you can’t keep it up straight. Your lashes rest against your cheeks as you breathe out his name and ask so fucking sweetly, would you put a finger in me?

“Need something to clench down on?” Marc wonders, resting his head on your thigh. “Is your poor little pussy empty?”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can whisper back. “Feels good to have someth’n inside when I cum.”

“I’ll bet it does,” he whispers back. Gently, so gently, he eases a finger into you. You’re burning hot, slick and soft. Your orgasms have you so relaxed around him, he immediately knows that you could take another of his fingers. Two seems to offer you the stretch you want, because your shoulders sag in relief, walls clenching around him.

When you cum for the last time, Marc gets to feel it. Wrung dry as you are, your pussy does nothing but give soft little spasms around his fingers as he flexes them and rubs the slick textured walls inside you. Your thighs twitch, a low whine rising in the back of your throat as he overstimulates you. But he can’t help it. He wants every last moment of your pleasure. He wants to commit every moment to memory in case this is all he ever gets from you, in case after graduation you move away and it’s all he has left of you.

When Marc pulls his fingers free, he doesn’t hesitate to tuck them into his mouth and suck them clean. Your eyes are shut, head reclining back against the couch, thighs still spread as far as he forced them open. Your poor pussy looks so sensitive, so fucked out and fucked open by him.

The need rises up in him, a tsunami wave that blocks out the sun. He’s been ignoring his cock for so long—during what is without question the most amazing sexual experience of his life, no less—and now the desperation becomes almost a frenzy. He has to get to the bathroom so that he can jerk off, posthaste. He doesn’t care if it’s improper, doesn’t care if it’s all too obvious to you what he’s doing.

Marc stumbles away from you on his knees, palms hitting the floor to keep himself balanced. He catches sight of his fingers, still wet from where he had sucked them clean, and a sound slips from the back of his throat: high and desperate. The little movement he’s made has brushed his cock against the denim and pushed him incrementally closer to that edge.

“Marc?”

The bathroom is right there—

“Marc—”

—he can see it, see the door cracked open, see the silly little night light you put in there, the one that keeps him from constantly banging his hip on the sharp edge of the sink—

“Marc.”

He has stopped his forward movement, he realizes. He has fallen to one elbow, his other hand fumbling at the button of his jeans, but his fingers are clumsy and exhausted and shaking with how badly he needs to cum, so he just says fuck it, just reaches down and rubs himself over the denim. The attention after so much neglect has him gasping wetly. He let himself lower the last few inches until he is laying on the floor, lets himself tip onto his back until he is looking up at the cheap fluorescent lighting doing his to jerk himself off through the restrictive denim—

And he sees you, sitting upright on the couch with your eyes on him, face slack.

Yeah, he cums. Right then, looking at you, at the haze in your eyes and the hair plastered to your forehead. He cums so hard his eyes roll back, cums so hard that it hurts, cums so hard that he knows a little piece of his soul slips out of his body and will forever rest there in Dorm Room E12. There will be a monument there, useless though no less momentous for it, like Plymouth Rock or the Liberty Bell. It will let future generations know that this is where Marc Spector saw God.

He lays there on the floor panting. Slowly your face comes into view above him. You’ve tugged your pants back on.

“Are you…okay?” you ask.

He holds up his thumb.

The smile you give him is wobbly, and the next ten minutes the two of you spend cleaning up the apartment (after Marc ducks into the bathroom and changes his pants, thanks) are painful with how quiet you are. When you crawl into bed, you pull the blankets up so high that all he can see is your hair, facing the wall.

Maybe he should have known that this would happen. Common sense could have forewarned him that eating out your best friend might lead to some internal conflict. While it was happening, he would have told himself that no matter the consequences, it was worth it, but now he isn’t sure. He crosses to his bed, sheds his shirt, and is just about to slip between the sheets when he sees it: a neat little folded square of pale purple fabric, tucked just beneath the edge of his pillow. He pulls your panties free and clutches them in one fist, heart pounding. It had to have been an accident—except it couldn’t have been. You must not have done it on purpose—but then how could you have done it at all? He brings them up to his face and smells the scent of your slick. They’re still damp, for fuck’s sake.

“Here lies Marc Spector,” he mutters. He tucks the panties beneath his pillow, mind already spinning about the implication of them. Already determined that he’ll give them back when they’re pried from his cold dead hands. Just as he pulls the sheets over himself, he sees the glow of the sun strike the wall through the window with the broken slat blinds. He plans to watch the sunlight move across the wall as it rises, but falls asleep within an instant.

#marc spector x reader

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turbulentscrawl · 3 months

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If I may ask, may you do general headcanons for emil, if not then just ignore this💜

Suuuuure can!

!Edited on 01/26/24 to add a few more small HCs!

Warning: Mentions of abuse (a lot)

-Emil’s health situation is as complicated as it is depressing. He suffers from chronic pain that’s a result of the years of abuse he’s endured—both in the dog fighting ring and in the asylum. Ironically, he’s got some of the highest pain tolerance out of all the survivors, but it’s difficult to tell when he’s I the middle of his worst days. (This pain tolerance is all psychological, however. A little something he developed as a defense mechanism.)

-Pain medicine does little for him now. He was on such high doses of opioids while in the middle of his shock and bloodletting treatments that they don’t help much anymore while also having dealt him some lasting issues like low blood pressure and brittle bones. This bone weakness, his parkour movements, and lowered sensitivity to pain mean he tends to suffer more severe injuries in matches than most.

-Emil’s communication skills have improved over the last few years, but he still struggles with writing and social cues. He’s used to the body language of dogs and angry men, so things like confident shoulders and direct eye contact make him nervous. If those behaviors are displayed towards Ada or another special person, he may become aggressive.

-In addition to his communication struggles, Emil’s emotions are also rather stunted; he often has disproportionate reactions to events and stimulus around himself. (He especially tends to under-react.) It’s very rare for Emil to cry or become genuinely angered. He spends most of his time with that pitiful, placating, resting smile and just letting the world whirl around him.

-Emil’s attachment to Ada mostly comes down to hers being the first truly kind hand he’s ever been offered. Despite any dubious motives, Ada does genuinely care about helping people, and at the time of meeting Emil she had not been a practicing physician long enough to be come jaded or careless. Other doctors did not spare Emil any sympathy because he was quiet and obedient, but Ada still gave him those. Her being in trouble is one of the few times this emotional reactions will be high—he’s terrified of losing his only source of comfort, and will become desperate and violent in order to keep her safe.

-Emil likes “being in a daze” because when he’s drugged up his constant pain is muffled. But he’s also less aware in general, and he’s so desperate for affection that he’s willing to forego the relief to be alert around Ada, or anyone else who dotes on him. Also similar to a dog, he’s fiercely loyal to Ada because she takes care of him. It’s not impossible for him to become attached to others too, but it will take time and repeat exposure to get over his protective urges. He’s more likely to get along with children and people Ada specifically introduces him to.

-Emil doesn’t have much preference in regards to food; he’s used to eating slop, scraps, and dog kibble. He does, however, like cakes because Ada always gave those to him as a “treat.” They represent another form of praise and affection to him. He prefers to eat with his hands than utensils—it hurts to try gripping those tiny things.

-Emil is afraid of dogs, and this unfortunately includes Wick. He and Victor don’t get along well because of how much the pup means to the Postman. He does seem to have some fondness for Ann’s cat, though.

-Most love languages work well for Emil, but Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation are his favorites to receive. (He rarely knows what to do with the gifts he’s given, however.) To give, he likes Acts of Service and Gift Giving. Emil loves to be touched gently, for any reason. Pet his hair, rub his back, massage his hands, he doesn’t care as long as you’re doing it with the intention of being loving and gentle. He even easily forgives missteps that aggravate his pre-existing pain. Uneducated as he is, Emil still knows what remorse looks like. The gifts he gives are rarely valuable in a monetary way, but he likes to share pretty things with the people he loves. A wire ring, a nice rock he found, the undamaged wings of a dead butterfly, you get the idea.

-Sexual abuse was among the abundance of mistreatment he suffered growing up. If and when Emil does engage in those sorts of activities, they require patience and a lot of communication to avoid triggering him. Ironically, he does better with those things when he’s NOT being regularly treated by Ada because the memories are buried too deep to crop up.

-Emil is somewhere between the ages of 25 and 28. As an adult, he grows facial hair, but he's not able to shave himself due to both a nervousness about knives and unsteady hands. Ada does it for him about once a week, and it's a time-consuming activity due to Emil needing regular reassurances.

-Another trait he's picked up from his canine company is "licking his wounds." And other people's if he cares about them enough. You've cut your finger? In his mouth it goes. Saliva does tend to promote healing to an extent, so most people let his behavior be.

#idv x reader #identity v #idv patient #emil x reader #turbulentscrawl

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teopatra · 8 months

Text

✨🤭 BIENVENUE 👋🏽👋🏻👋👋🏿

Let me preface by sayin, I went on Google, found some images, saved these images, but I DO not own them and i am NOT citing my source 😆 BC I CAN *karlie red’s voice* teehee yes I did yes I did somebody plz tell ‘em who the EFF I IS 🤪 I’ll give updates if someone takes legal actions 🥳

♍️Pick a fictional Virgo♍️

Since it’s both Virgo season ANND mercury rx im going to be doing a lot of readings themed around this season for research 🧐 purposes 🤓

1. Rue (real life ♍️ Zendaya)

What do you need to work on?

Either you have an unhealthy addiction or attachment to something OR you need to be focusing more on something like your life depends on it due to either procrastination, laziness, self loathing/not believing in yourself ENOUGH OR just not dedicating enough time to something. If you have an unhealthy attachment to something like social media or video games, know that it’s okay to indulge in certain things but you have to have balance and know wen it’s time to take a break.. your screen time could be high but if that’s the case how are you using that time to create content or make that fun thing lucrative for yourself. You can make tiktoks even if you may think it’s stupid bc the views will bring more traffic to your page but only if the intentions are good and you aren’t harming anything or displaying inappropriate behaviors. Also if you play video games you can stream, if you like to read you can do voice memos and turn it into a podcast, reel, YouTube video and you don’t even have to show your face. I’m getting mercurial energy from this pile bc it’s something to do with your voice and hands .. maybe you build, play instrument, make beats, sing, do ASMR whatever ..

Additional Messages: while mercury is in retrograde this is a good time to work on your craft not perfect it just work on it.. beginning stages will not exhibit perfection so if that’s what you expect out of yourself there is where the shadow work needs to be done. You need to make a schedule; it doesn’t have to be time exact focused but you need to have better intentions for your day.. you need to strengthen your upper body especially the arms.. practice breath work and work on healing and or balancing your lower chakras: root chakra, sacral chakra and or solar plexus whatever one resonates with you..

2. Hermoine Granger 📚

What is holding you back?

Your mouth is holding you back because you don’t understand what it means to move in silence. Just because you didn’t tell people about it or show the internet doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Learn how to enjoy the beauty of life on your own. People will begin to see right thru you and not take you serious if you’re always posting every little thing. Know your own worth, other people see it but it doesn’t seem like you’re being authentic to your true self. Maybe you tried doing shadow work and wanted to reinvent yourself; but who are you trying to be like? If you’re not being you then you’re being a carbon copy and that will just lead you down a path of self destruction.

Additional Messages: I see you’re experiencing some type of food allergy maybe gluten or dairy and hormonal imbalances. You will benefit from journaling, sound baths, and meditation music. Gemini energy somewhere in your chart maybe your moon; if it’s difficult for you to quiet the mind rn maybe bc of issues within the family relating to health or finances then you have to unwind the mind. It’ll take time, (bars) maybe you want to write music is so then do it.. work on the crown chakra, heart chakra, sacral and solar plexus chakras, you really need to recalibrate cuz you’re out of wack and your body or tummy is stressed

3. Bella Swan 🦢

How can you hold yourself accountable?

You use other people’s problems as a way to distract yourself because you want to feel needed by other people. You refuse to do things for yourself or by yourself bc maybe you realize that wen you’re by yourself you’re really sad or lonely.. figure out the root of this sadness and loneliness and heal your trauma. Tell yourself that what happened to you is NOT YOUR FAULT. People will still love you even if you aren’t available for them at the moment, if they’re meant to be in your life they’ll understand. But you don’t want to accept the fact that the people you hold dear to you are probably not meant to be in your life at this time.

Additional Messages: are you using your financial status and material meals to define your happiness? Who would you be without those things? Who are you? Do you even know? You’ve been going thru the motions for so long, that you’ve put your true desires in life aside bc you feel guilty . Heavy guilt issues, check your sun sign and your Saturn and the houses they’re in.. Heal your root chakra and if you’re going thru a Saturn return you better understand what that means for you now since the start of it until the end or else you’ll have to wait another 27 years to really dive into what you love…

4. Frodo Baggins 🧝🏽‍♀️

Where you need to communicate better…

If you have a speech impediment or your first language is diff than those around you causing language barriers do NOT be afraid to express yourself. If anyone makes fun of you for the way you speak they’re a loser and work on your confidence so this doesn’t bring you down. You know what you’re trying to say so maybe work on how to express yourself better with words. You may deal with self doubt, insecurity, trauma, and you may shut down when you feel like others don’t understand you. It’s mercury retrograde and I see for the next 3 weeks people just may not listen , that doesn’t mean talk louder, that doesn’t mean argue, become a better listener and this will help you with your communication. I feel Aquarian energy like you’re different and the ones who know you understand when you speak but you have to have balance and be able to speak in all aspects don’t be afraid or shy it’s okay.

Additional Messages: check your 11th house, and aspects to your Aquarius house, work on your throat chakra and your root chakra. If you’re in school for psychology or you’re an astrologer then you already have the answers you seek you just don’t trust yourself so work on the heart chakra as well.. idk why you don’t trust yourself you’re actually very intelligent but you have some type of disability maybe, confidence and time will strengthen this

5. Jorah Mormont 🗡️

What isn’t working for you anymore?

other people opinions aren’t working for you; you keep allowing people to put their 2 cents in when you need to trust your gut. You have a very keen eye and people feel important wen you ask their input. It’s okay to ask advice from others time to time but ask the universe, the divine, your spirit team, and or your higher self to enlighten you. There may some evil eye around you in regards to your work, others see that your hard work will lead you to success but people feel left out and want to siphon all your energy. Insecure and low vibrational people aren’t working for you. Your challenge rn is to know wen is a good time to just put your phone on DND and do you whether it’s rest or meditation. Strong Leo energy, check your sun sign your 5th house and anything aspecting your Leo house.

Additional Messages: you may need more sunlight or you may need to use more sunblock so you don’t get radiation poisoning. Or some of you could be outside n the sun too much which is draining you in some way. Vitamins could benefit you or orange foods like oranges and carrots. Maybe try drinking smoothies, cut out carbonated drinks and snacks high in sodium, it’s causing brain fog and memory loss. Fatigue is happening to you bc you’re probably over worked and don’t drink enough water or the right type of water.

6. Neo 👽

How to be more productive?

Be more imaginative , be more delusional, exercise your neptunian or piscerian energy by making your dream or fantasy world reality. You need to strengthen your psychic abilities maybe by asking the universe or higher power to give you a sign.. work on your telepathy by imaging a certain object you want the universe to use to communicate with you to affirm. Stop doubting your intuition just because it may scare you. If you believe that we live in a simulation and nothing is real then why are you allowing this reality to bring you down. Pretend you’re in a video game or movie and you’re the main character or final boss. You may need to move your body more bc your blood isn’t circulating enough or properly esp if your body parts have been falling asleep lately

Additional Messages: it would benefit you to detox, drink more water and take on a healthier diet or lifestyle because something is clouding your judgement and intuition. Check your chart for what planets are in your 12th house or aspecting your Pisces placements. You’re in a self deprecating mode rn and you have to snap out of it. Eat less meat especially if you’re a water sign bc you’re taking on the energies of those unalive animals your eating you feel their pain.. also stop eating GMO food for 60 days…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:03 on the clock

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ask-the-royal-absol · 3 months

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@Hope & Felix: Hi Hope; Hi Felix, its great to see you again. So, question to you both; Does the Underdark or Terrestria celebrate its own holidays? I'm asking because we just celebrated a couple of them just recently and I wanted to snag some gifts for the both of you and Destino as well, if I can, as I'm the Celebrate Anon.

Hope: How did that happen?

Felix: Destino being royalty means they can choose for things ta happen and their parents allow it.

Hope: That’s not…no. I’m sorry but in my kingdom, I can’t just say my birthday is a holiday and it’ll suddenly become a thing. That’s stupid. And everyone is ok with it?

Felix: It’s pretty harmless so nobody cares. All it means is that Destino is wished a happy birthday on their special day if ya see ‘em. I’m the only one that ends up givin’ ‘em a gift. Well, me, their parents and the bisharps but that’s it.

Hope: Fair enough, if it helps them to feel important.

Felix: Ya were gonna talk about ya holidays?

Hope: Oh yeah. We have a lot. It varies from religion to religion.

Felix: Religion?

Hope: Yeah. Lots of Pokémon worship different legendary Pokémon, believing certain ones are the creators of the world. Pokémon, like the one known as the Relentless Torrent or the Ancestral Guardian, have their own religious movements which means certain holidays are put in place to appease them. For example, the Day of Ash is a day where Pokémon from the movement of the Living Magma will throw ash into the volcano in order, as they believe, give it sustenance so the Living Magma does not leave the volcano.

Hope: Dad tells me to celebrate as many as I can. Not because I believe in them - the guardian informed me of how the world was made - but more as a symbol for the people of my kingdom, or at least that’s what dad says. And a lot of them are so much fun. Some have some incredible traditions too which I love taking part in. I’m kinda glad I have dad making me aware of all of these movements as it means I get to be closer to the Pokémon I’m gonna eventually rule over.

Felix: Damn, sounds like ya really care for ya subjects, considering ya have ta go ta all these celebrations and all.

Hope: I try my best. Though it does mean I can get incredibly busy sometimes.

Hope: Vacation? Ha! That would be a dream. I don’t get much in terms of “free time”. Royal duties and all.

Felix: Surely ya must get some time off. Destino doesn’t really have ta do but they still give ‘emselves a break if it’s too much for ‘em.

Hope: Destino is going to find it incredibly difficult when they take the throne then. Not gonna put it lightly but if they’re not doing something everyday, they’re not gonna last long.

Felix: I never said they were doing nothin’. Just that they like to balance their royal duties with havin’ some free time. It’s important to ‘em. They value their free time. Work life balance, ya know. They sometimes help distribute food, read ta kids, settle things between two Pokémon.

Hope: There’s no way I’d be able to have a break. It’s hilarious Destino has to have breaks when they have nowhere near as many responsibilities as me.

Hope: My days usually start with an hours worth of training, followed by a meet and greet with a group of Pokémon - that usually takes a couple of hours as I have to give a speech about myself and the royal family and how we support the kingdom. Then I visit a couple of the local schools so I can listen to the kid read and help out as best I can - sometimes I’m even allowed to teach Pokémon moves classes. Gotta inspire the young ones, you know? I have a quick 10 minute lunch before meeting other groups of Pokémon for 3 ish more hours, do a couple more hours of training, maybe meet with a few more of my subjects, then I’ll get a quick dinner, or as quick as I possibly can, then back to meeting with other Pokémon and slipping in some training in my free moments. Sometimes the meet and greets don’t last as long so I can have a quick moment to myself.

Felix: …That doesn’t sound healthy.

Hope: What do you mean?

Felix: That’s ya every day? Every single one of those activities?

Hope: Yeah. I don’t see what the-

Felix: Hope, how’s that sustainable for ya? Ya gonna end up burning yaself out.

Hope: Ha, you’re worrying too much. I’m perfectly fine. Besides, it’s all for the good of the kingdom.

Felix: Alright, so how are ya allowed ta do all of this if ya schedule is so jam packed?

Hope: My old man has no idea I’ve gone and done this. He probably thinks I’ve gone to help someone or something. Everything’s fine.

*A brief thought slipped into Hope’s mind. A memory of the King and Queen of the Underdark leaving to go and tell her father of what she had done. Shit. Perhaps he would know. It’s not like she’d get in trouble with him. Maybe she should have told her father before leaving. Too late now. Felix noticed the faintest drop in Hope’s confident expression. Even though he only just met her, hearing about how full her day was with a lack of down time made him slightly worry about her. At least Destino could manage their time well.*

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #Felix the gengar #gengar #hope the Blaziken #Blaziken #chapter 3 #and things are starting to come to light #pokeask community

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will-and-lester-defense-squad · 3 months

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Damn I’ve been seeing a good bit of criticism about the pjo show and while everyone can have their opinions on it, so can I. So. (Lemme warn yall this is gonna be a long one)

I’ve seen a lot about how things are being figured out too easily in the show and it’s taking the mystery out of the scenes from the book (i.e. the lotus casino, “aunty em” being Medusa, etc). What this boils down to (to me at least) is that people think the trio is.. too smart??

I get where they’re coming from but if anything? I think that makes everything in the show better compared to the books for a few reasons:

they can focus more on keeping season 1 character-centric and story-driven instead of constantly about action (which sets a lot up for the next 4 seasons when they can dive into all the action because the characters and their motivations/personalities have already been fleshed out and established)

(and much more importantly) the trio is supposed to be smart and somewhat prepared for this quest

Like i get the whole “they’re 12 year old kids” argument but we’re forgetting that they’re not regular kids. Because they do suck at regular people stuff: Percy sucks at driving (ik he’s a kid still), they have a hard time communicating with each other, their relationships are rocky as hell for a while, they don’t do well with listening to or respecting authority figures.

But when it comes to the demigod stuff? There’s a reason they’re all so good at it. For one, it’s explained that the same ADHD and dyslexia that makes their regular lives so difficult, makes it easier to function in the mythic world. And when it comes to each character, lemme go through them one by one.

Annabeth: the literal daughter of the goddess of wisdom and strategy. the girl who learned on her own how to survive using nothing but her quick thinking and wits at 7 years old before being picked up by Luke and Thalia. the girl who spent 5 years training and learning everything she could in hopes of getting a quest to prove herself. and then on top of that, that pride she’s got just pushes her even more to be the smartest and bravest version of herself.

Grover: the satyr whose literal job description is to be a protector of demigods, which means he’s been trained just as much, if not more than annabeth and taught everything he needs to know to shield these demigods while they’re in the real world. He’s smart, adaptable, strong, and has the added advantage of increased senses and a connection to nature and animals that comes in handy.

Percy: whose mother spent his entire life preparing him for this life, knowing one day he was gonna have to do all of this himself. She told him all the stories. She knew as a son of Poseidon, he was gonna have to face all kinds of gods and dangers. And he does constantly use what he’s been taught to get him through whatever he faces. The only reason he seems inexperienced is because he is. He’s only been a demigod for a week at this point. But both Grover and annabeths experience more than make up for this. Because they’re a team and they travel and fight together as one.

They may be 12 year old kids, but they’re not regular people like the rest of us. They’re demigods. And they might still have a lot to learn, but they’re still demigods. They have training! They have amazing instincts! They know the history! The stories!! The Greek tragedies!!! They learned them so that they don’t repeat the same mistakes their ancestors made, and they used that to their advantage at every stage of their quest so far.

So yeah, I’m glad they’re smart enough to know when they’re about to walk into a trap. And I’d hope to god they use these advantages at their disposal, because nothing else they face is gonna be easy regardless. They have no choice but to be ready, it’s literally life or death.

At the end of the day, a complete copy of the book would be so boring as a show. We already read the books. We know what happens. So the changes they’ve made so far have really just been for the better. I love watching smart protagonists that don’t make me yell at the tv when they miss the glaringly obvious!!

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo tv show #percy jackson and the olympians

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herebecritters · 5 months

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I’m not very well-versed in Happy Tree Friends BUT if your trio of kooky sumerian gods were actually canon to the show, I’d push everyone away just for them, words can’t describe how even though I don’t know shit about the source, I love these three so badly! And the amount of detail and depth you go into them is so astounding and AUGHHHHH!! And quick question! What would they look like as humans? I gotta know!!

Holy cow! This was such a nice message to receive thank you!!! Don’t worry I got plenty of Idol Trio stuff planned and in the works! 💪😤

Basically htf is just…Cute critters being violently killed by random silly bouts of bad luck only to come back for the next episode. Think Looney Tunes but gorey ehehehehe

And lemme clarify, the three are not Sumerian, they are Mesozoic cave people (well technically burrow people but yknow what I mean) However, considering people didn’t exist back during the Cretaceous….and considering that ancient Mesopotamian/Sumerian/Assyrian civilization has the oldest historical records to go off of, it does provide a lot of inspiration for them. Specifically for First Civilization.

But I also pull a lot from the little bit we know about Neanderthal life as well as many various Paleolithic hunter/gatherer societies such as the Ohallo II site and the ancient Natufian settlements. These sources help especially for the Dino-Sore days era of their lives. But of course, there’s no WRITTEN records from these times so it makes it a bit difficult when it comes to research and understanding how these people really lived. You can only tell so much from stone tools and bones sadly.

Because of this, the trio has been inspired by a hodgepodge of a bunch of different ancient cultures, not just one. Not to mention the occasional fictional liberties I take with them. I mean it’s a cartoon after all. ;D

Shoot I rambled a lot ANYWAYS

the HILARIOUS thing about this message is that literally the day before I had gotten this in my inbox I actually DID do some human trio doodles while at dnd so I went ahead and finished one of ‘em up for you! :D

It’s been a little while since I’ve drawn humans so forgive me hehehe Again thank you for asking this humanifying them has been so much fun!!!!

#happy tree friends #htf #htf ocs #htf be brave #htf nergal #htf geshtu #htf dumuzi #htf idol trio #htf god trio #I’m actually currently a little obsessed with drawin em like this now oops #I forgot Nergals hat shhhh shhh

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catchyhuh · 5 months

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Well part 6 made it obvious that besides French and Japanese Lupin can talk at least in English, Italian, Russian, Spanish, German, Turkish, Korean and Dutch (gosh, he's good, I'm jelly).

What languages do the others know? I have some headcanons about Goe, but I'm curious about your ones!

well, the short of it, for all of em really, is: “do i need to learn this language to continue living for the next month? yes? ok let’s learn some conjugation.” so it’s less about which specific languages and just HOW many they know so much as how do they go about the process of learning/how do they USE the language once they’ve learned it so. IT’S A LOT

and uh also they all tend to default to japanese but you probably knew that LET’S GET INTO THE LOT

jigen:

jigen knows the least out of all of them, mostly because he. does not talk to many people. he’s an unintentional perfectionist about it in just that one sense; if he’s communicating, he wants to be SURE he’s understood, no room for misunderstanding

of course, that doesn’t mean he’s a slouch. i’m sure he can still speak, listen to, read AND write at least ten more languages than you and i can, minimum. BUT STILL, he just doesn’t want any room for misinterpretation, none whatsoever. so usually, he lets someone else do the talking, or he attempts to get by with whatever he and the other party can understand. it’s kind of funny because his stubbornness with this means a lot of times the gang will purposefully leave him to flounder, because THAT’S WHAT HE GETS FOR NOT WANTING TO REMEMBER SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS “no ice in my drink please”

because of this, he’s most proficient in READING in other languages. there’s no need for input on his end, and he can get a hang of sentence structure AND the words themselves, so there’s no embarrassment later. so particular about these things

fujiko:

the only one who can speak a language better than she can understand it being spoken to her. like jigen, she mostly learns by just reading it, (sometimes by rereading a book she already knows, so she already has an easy guide to go off of) so trying to decipher someone TALK talking at a conversational speed is. a different beast

uses the whole multilingual thing as more of a novelty than a necessity. like it’s a party trick to her. like she's a translation dictionary in the flesh! ask her how to say purple in danish! wanna know the word for cookie in malay? if you want to know how to say “penis” in 30 languages, fujiko will frown and go “c’mon. grow up." ...but she'll still answer since it’s actually still just ‘penis’ in like five different languages anyway,

this is mostly because she weaponizes the “you don’t think i can understand x language, but yes, i can, and i can hear you calling me stupid while i’m standing right fucking next to you. you will regret this in time”

goemon:

absorbs foreign languages the fastest, which is hilarious because he’s always the most stubborn about wanting to just speak his first language. i mean it’s goemon, you probably saw this coming!

has since softened on the concept, not because of a “loosening of his personal principles,” but rather, he saw how damn DIFFICULT it made things for the average person he interacts with for two seconds of his life. it was initially easy to hold onto it, until he saw the poor waitress grin apologetically and say she was so sorry she didn’t understand. then he softened. a BIT. if you know even a smidge of japanese he’s expecting it from you.

wore a t-shirt that said COOL GUY in big, obnoxiously american letters once for a disguise. burnt it when the operation was over. lupin has five pictures of it. goemon allows the records to exist because he is, objectively, a COOL GUY

zenigata:

the funny thing is you’d ask him about it and he’d get kind of sheepish. like, yeah, he knows (he pauses to count on his fingers for a second) 23 languages but he’s not REALLY good at most of them it’s just like a thing for WORK it’s not like he’s REALLY got them down--

again, it’s the fault of that freakish hypercompetence that comes up for rule of funny. if he’s just getting off the plane and he realizes he’s left his gloves at home and is desperately trying to find a pair, no, he can’t get through in the slightest. but if it’s LUPIN involved, oh buddy if there is an ELEMENT of DANGER AND/OR LUPIN, he just breaks out entire sentences with almost perfect pronunciation and everything, to the point the other people in the room wonder if he was faking his issues earlier. and the answer is no, he wasn’t, he just didn’t have the proper motivation. NOW he does, and NOW he can speak fucking perfect indonesian, just because!

also kind of sort of treats it as a party trick the way lupin and fujiko do if he’s in a good enough mood (but you actually do get hints of that in the show, like that one little part 3 bit!) so that’s fun

#these people are insane. need to do a scientific study of how their brains work for real #lupin iii #lupin the third #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #asks

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oldmemoria · 6 months

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posting these design ideas on main because why not

working with how I want to possibly redesign cat!miguel (Reclusestar in the warriors AU), here’s a few quick headshot ideas for em :)

dunno which one I should go with, but I’ve got some notes on each

Original:

Dark blue-grey tortoiseshell with reddish brown markings meant to replicate his most recent suit design. Small, slightly curved up ears with tufts around them that I want to stay in the design regardless of the fur color. A 4 pronged star on his forehead that will also stay true to every other design (supposed to be his leader mark. Usually I like the idea of leader marks either being like.. spots or stripes or something else but a physically inflicted marking not only fits his role better but is also just more visceral and reflects the implied and not so implied cruelty of StarClan in the warrior cats series. For those who don’t know StarClan is like… a holy amalgemation of all of the cats ancestors that went from this mysterious and whymsical force in the first series to unreliable and actually manipulate due to how biased they are.)

— why is he blue

— not accurate to comic design

— more accurate to his movie design, however, I believe the blue in his suit is meant to be light bouncing off of a black suit. So still isn’t exactly accurate

+ simple, easy to replicate markings and probably easy to animate (haven’t tested it but seeing as he barely has any floating stripes or markings other than his star marking it’d be easy to do frame by frame)

+ bluestar

original but the blue is changed to black.

Classic black and orange tortoiseshell. Same other features mentioned before.

— boring. Yawn.

+ the mask markings are more prominent

+ the most accurate to the comics. Miguel has a black and red suit.

same as the last 2 but with a darker blue-black tint

— still blue :/

— his eyes blend into his face and it bothers me

+ colors are actually really nice

+ average cat Miguel design honestly this is how everyone draws him

tortie-tabby dual colored cap mask. Instead of the usual ginger ear tufts he has white, and he has a lot more white in his design than usual

— I don’t like how much white I used for this design, I don’t think it works.

— replicating the fangs in the mask was kinda difficult I didn’t know if I wanted to make it a stripe or apart of the base mask so uh

+ is a tortie-tabby

+ accentuates his jawline!! The other designs did before as well, his markings are just placed a little differently here

+ the white hair is cute

Half and half tortie with minimal white markings (I’m leaning towards using this one)

+ I really like half and half tortie designs

+ cool symmetry

+ he looks like a lil guy here.. just lil.

— jawline isn’t ver visible, especially on the dark brown side :(

Half and half with medium white markings

+ same perks as above

+ accentuates jawline better than the others

(If you’d like please rb for a better sample size for the poll below :3)

Here’s an optional poll, just to see which ones people like more (doesn’t mean I’m gonna choose that one)

#atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #warrior cats #procreate #digital art #cat miguel #cat au #warriors au #warrior cats au #designs #✭ Spider scribbles ✭

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obwjam · 7 months

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Hey! I've always been wanting to request here ( if it's open of course)

Maybe a Killmonger x tiny reader who snuck into his pocket during a heist and it leads to him discovering them once in wakanda?

hi!!! i actually am totally cool with requests at the moment, it's been so long that i feel like i should do some writing lol and this made me realize i've literally never written any black panther characters? at all? it's been a while since i've seen the movies so we've got morally ambiguous killmonger. i hope you like it!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were cornered.

There was nothing you could do, either, since you had hurt your leg in the mad scramble before. How could you be so stupid? Tinies will do anything for food, it seems.

The giant knew you were here. He was looking for you. He had seen you traversing the ground, scared, confused, overwhelmed. You were not in England anymore, that’s for sure. You had never, ever seen a place like this before.

“Well, well, whadda we got here, huh?”

The air left your lungs like it was forcibly removed from you as you stared up, up, up at this giant – Killmonger, you heard somebody call him, which was not the name of a friendly man – who loomed over you with an annoyed, yet curious, expression.

He snickered at your petrified expression. “Aw, I really must look terrifying to you, don’t I?” He thought for a moment before bending down and stretching his arm out, his intentions clear.

Your instinct kicked in and you bolted to the side, but it was no use. Killmonger simply leaned in and extended his arm as his giant fingers pinched your shirt, effortlessly lifting you off the ground.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit!” you said frantically, thrashing your legs in a desperate attempt to wriggle free. Much to your embarrassment, Killmonger laughed again, clearly amused.

“Don’t trip, little guy, I ain’t gonna drop you,” he said in a surprisingly soft tone. Truthfully, he had no intention of hurting you, but he did want to know why a tiny little human being was sneaking around Wakanda. He raised his brows as he swung you over to a table, briefly lifting you up to eye level to get a closer look. You nearly vomited as he tilted his fingers, observing your tattered clothes and overall strange appearance.

Carefully, he placed you down on the table and took a seat, still looming over you but not nearly as badly as before. He took a few moments to simply observe you as you gathered yourself, wiping tears from your eyes and pulling at the ends of your clothes to get them fitting right on your body again. You refused to look Killmonger in the eye, but you stared at just about everything else in the room.

“Well… can’t say I’ve ever seen anythin’ like you before,” he started, almost cautiously. “And trust me, I’ve seen a lot of shit.”

He pouted when you kept your eyes trained to the ground. “Hey. I’m talking to you.” He pursed his lips. “You… you can understand me, can’t you?” It didn’t occur to him that maybe you didn’t speak english.

He was slightly surprised when you nodded, not wanting to provoke him any further.

“Alright, well, I’m used to people lookin’ at me when I talk to ‘em. You can do that, yeah?”

Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. His tone wasn’t rude, per se… but it was condescending. Like he knew he was better than you. But you didn’t really have a choice if you wanted to get out of this situation alive, so after a few deep breaths, you meekly turned your gaze to him. Shit, he is gigantic.

Killmonger couldn’t help but smile. “Aight, good. Can you talk?”

Another nod. He would take it.

“So, what’s a little guy like you doin’ so far from home?”

You tried your best to muster up the courage to speak, but it was more difficult than you thought. After all, this was your very first conversation with a giant.

“I hope you come here with good intentions, tiny,” he said, though his initial thought of this must be a spy wanting to steal our riches was slowly fading as he observed your behavior more. If this was the work of some sleazy British henchman, they sure picked the wrong tiny person.

Good intentions. You repeated that a few times in your head before realizing what this might look like to him.

“I… it was an accident.”

Killmonger’s eyebrows perked up, surprised to hear your voice. “Oh, yeah? Accident how?”

“I… I was just up on the table, looking for some food for the night and I thought I saw some… saw some in your jacket pocket,” you managed to get out.

“My pocket?” he repeated.

“Y-yeah.” You tried to read the expression on his face, but it was stoic. “And I-I went in to grab it, a-and I tried…” you trailed off, taking a few breaths before reliving that experience. “And then you–you came, a-and grabbed your coat before I could – before I was able to get out.” You clenched your fists to keep from shaking too hard. “And now I’m here… wherever… here is.”

Killmonger blinked, trying to retrace his steps over the last few days. He was in England on one of his usual business trips… he stopped at an associate’s place… then he went back to Wakanda. He supposed it was completely plausible that a tiny human being could have been in his pocket the whole time… but wouldn’t he have noticed?

“That’s a crazy ass story,” he said with a smirk. “I’m not sure if I believe that.”

But the way your eyes widened and you began to fidget made him start to believe you were telling the truth. “I–I’m serious, I–I wouldn’t lie!” you cried in desperate defense. “Please, I just – I just want to go back home.” You sniffled, furiously wiping your eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – if I had known –”

“–alright, alright,” he cut you off, pumping his hands back and forth. “I get it, I get it. I believe you. Just… stop crying.”

You nodded, shutting your eyes to stop the tears from escaping. “Can you… can you take me back?”

Killmonger sniffed a laugh. “What, take you back to the UK?” You nodded. “Nah, sorry, little guy, but I ain’t going back there just yet.”

Your expression morphed into one of pure horror. “Wh… what?”

“I ain’t going back to another continent just because you accidentally ended up where you shouldn’t be,” he chided. “Besides, I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter for some half-pint.” He glanced down at you smugly. “But I definitely can’t have you runnin’ around unsupervised, can I?”

It didn’t take long for the realization to dawn on you, but it was too late. You barely took a few steps before you were unceremoniously scooped up, once again being dangled in front of the giant’s billboard-sized face. This time, you knew thrashing around was pointless.

Your head spun as he stood up, carrying you like you were poisonous. “Wh– what are you doing with me?!” you managed to get out.

“Hm. Dunno just yet,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I just don’t have time to worry ‘bout you right now – ah.” Killmonger spotted what he was looking for. “I’ve got some shit I have to deal with, so why don’t you just…”

Now, you did try to wriggle your way out of his grip, but it was no use – you were dizzy, overwhelmed and overpowered. He gently lowered you into what you thought was a box with no sides, until he swiped his hand over the top and a blue energy field shimmered into view. You cautiously walked up to the edge, reached out and were rudely greeted with a sharp pain in your hand. You hissed and staggered back.

“See, don’t even try,” Killmonger said, wondering how badly that must have hurt. “Just hang tight, little guy. I’ll be back.”

His stare lingered on you for a few extra seconds before he finally turned around and left the room, leaving you completely and utterly alone and trapped.

You had no idea how you were going to get yourself out of this one.

#i feel like this is exactly how it would go if this were to really happen #he's not sadistic but he's wary of just about everyone #so he's kind of being a dick!#sorry for the angst but this just felt right to me lol #obwrites #marvel g/t #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #asks

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blakecooley · 1 year

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How to sabotage your work without losing your job (probably)

Hi! Lifelong contrarian and well-known pain in the ass here. I’ve noticed a recent trend following the unsurprisingly quiet death of the conversation around “quiet quitting” and well, I’m hardly seeing anybody talking much anymore about passive resistance at work. Sure, there's always the under the radar talk of big, showy ways of sabotaging your job. That’s great for some. Heck, might even make you feel like a real hero throwing a literal wrench into that conveyor belt. And to those willing to take the risk, cheers! We’re eternally grateful for your contribution in the fight against capitalism! But most of us teeter in a cosmically cruel paradox whereby we recognize that the systems that dictate our lives and extract our very livelihoods in order to fuel itself have likewise arranged themselves to be our sole means of survival in an attempt to guarantee eternal subservience and supply. (We need our jobs. Ew, bummer.)

Look, we all hate them. We all know and understand exactly how wildly unnatural, inhumane and exploitative they are. But goddamn wouldn’t you know it, the local utility just absolutely refuses to barter. And until they do we have to keep going to our stupid, pointless jobs that we know are slowly killing us but(!) don’t give up hope! Just because you can’t afford to lose your job doesn’t mean you can’t make things generally difficult for your employer, slow work down a few ticks and ultimately waste company resources! Today I’m going to offer you a few tried and true tips that I’ve collected along my twenty years as a member of the american workforce on how to quietly and mostly passively sabotage your work. Welcome to the resistance! Time to not get to work!

First up is a hard one that I feel might be met with some criticism. Which, I honestly understand as it seems counterproductive to the overall goal but, you have to be good at your job. I would never ask that anyone care about their job or devote a second more than is contractually required to even thinking about it but everything else is going to be a lot easier to accomplish if you’re not a problem employee. You don’t need to be stellar or outstanding at your job, in fact that would be aggressively productive for the company and ultimately counterproductive to your efforts towards counterproductivity and frankly is a lot of work. But be good enough at it that no one gives you much of a thought. This means avoiding write-ups, being generally present and on time, not being noticeably hungover or stoned at work and most importantly being consistent. Bosses love that shit. People that they can rely on without thinking about them make their lives easier and can often get a little more leeway with the rules. You need this to succeed at failing.

With that out of the way, onward! To impishness and the foiling of toiling!

Slow down. This seems obvious and I won’t spend much time on it but, slow down. Be deliberate, be mindful, be consistent. (There’s that word again!) Be slow. You don’t have to be sluggish or make your motions theatrically drawn out but just move a little more slowly than anyone else. While some are more concretely quantifiable than others, we all have expected productivity rates at our crummy jobs. How many orders have you served? How many phone calls have you taken? How many parcels did you pick, stack, toss or deliver? How many emails did you respond to? Fuck ‘em. Don’t meet these often arbitrary, almost always aggressively enforced, micro-deadlines. Hover. Float along just below quota. Not enough to get in trouble but just enough that other people have to wait on you, consistently. Measure every portion before plating. Run that dishwasher twice. Leave that detailed voicemail to confirm receipt of the email you just sent (I don’t know how office jobs work. Ask your friend who loves Gilmore Girls, they’ll know what not to do and ultimately may be the key to understanding the best ways to get nothing accomplished). Take the stairs, insist on walking, go to the office of someone you could reach by phone or radio and meet face to face, count everything twice, be obnoxiously thorough, do whatever you can however you can do it, just do it slowly. Make yourself a well-meaning but undeniable pain in the ass. Waste company time.

You might be asking now, “Blake, I thought you said you weren’t gonna spend much time on that tip? Sure seems like either this is the beginning of an arduous and lengthy trend or you’re a fucking liar. Perhaps both. Would you like the opportunity to speak to that?”

To which I would say, “Welcome to tip #3! It looks like you might’ve already got this one pretty figured out. Good work, champ. (sly wink (definitely not in a sexual way, unless you're into it in which case, hello there (winks both eyes, slyly)) But that’s right: Asking unnecessary, unanswerable, open-ended and otherwise asinine questions is a great way to waste company time! It’s great to really understand every single, miniscule, esoteric and inscrutable detail of the operation of every facet of your job, of your employer and of the majesty of life all around us. Will you ever realistically need this information? No. Are you ever going to be asked to demonstrate any of this knowledge to maintain your employment? No. Should you still turn that 15 minute meeting into a half hour marathon of interrogation? Abso-fucking-lutely! Should you really ask your elderly, probably q-anon addled, foxmaxxed coworker about that winding and vaguely related to whatever someone else was just talking about, personal story that requires more context to understand than the story conveys? Get fucking real, you beautiful asshole! Learn her whole family history! Learn to love her estranged children more closely than your own! Should you ask your boss about exploring the idea of setting up a meeting with your district manager so that you, and really the whole team, can get a chance to benefit from a more in-depth education about the new product, menu item, system rollout, policy change, or safety guideline update? FUCK YES! YOU GORGEOUS AND BRILLIANT FUCK GOD! Fuck everyone’s day up. Make every single person you interact with late to their next thing. Ask so many inane questions so consistently (fuck yes!!) that your neuroticism has to be soft scheduled into itineraries. Herald yourself among Socrates, Lao Tzu, Al-Khwarizmi, alongside all the great minds of history in your place at the pantheon of curiosity. Leave no one’s schedule, routine or plan intact. Make yourself a well-meaning, curious but undeniable pain in the ass. Waste company time.”

You, out of breath from cumming so hard from thinking about wasting company time after you stopped listening to me three words in, “What?”

This next one’s pretty simple but if executed improperly can backfire in some pretty “Either go see a doctor and find out what’s going on or stop wasting everybody’s time,” kind of ways but: Stay very hydrated. A well hydrated saboteur is a healthy saboteur. A well hydrated saboteur is a saboteur who has to go use the restroom, “Seriously, like every thirty minutes all day. Are you sure you’re okay? You can call it a day if you need to go home or whatever.” You don’t have to live in the bathroom but you should definitely be a regular. And really this is a tactic that you probably can’t employ every day without raising some questions and maybe drawing some medical concern from your employer but if and when it’s appropriate, go nuts! (I feel like if I were responsible or anything near the proximity of a medical professional I would say here that you should drink a lot of water instead of like soda or coffee or energy drinks or whatever cause too much of those sorts of things will probably kill you or something. But also don’t drink too much water cause I heard this story on the radio once about people dying from that too. It mostly seemed like it was accidental deaths during like frat hazing which I mean still sucks but seems pretty unlikely to happen in most daily scenarios so, I don’t know just be careful, okay? You're important, you're loved, we need you and I absolutely refuse to even think about living in a world without you). Remember, it’s not about creating urgency it’s about not getting work done so don’t try to be a hero and hold it in longer than you need to. Drink plenty of water, keep your body comfortable and rest easy knowing that as a pleasant side-effect of your hydration and abundant urination, you are absolutely fucking glowing! Being a saboteur never looked so good! Your skin is clear and radiant and you are wasting company time. Keep it up you stunning fucking fox!

#5(?) As a means of sort of rounding things to a close, my last tip is meant to be taken as broad advice. It’s really more about a general attitude that encapsulates a deliberate indifference instead of being a direct tactic. In all things related to work, be a devout incrementalist. Let your tactics develop slowly, gradually and naturally over time. Develop yourself as a character (maybe with a sexy mustache? Vroom vroom, let's ride!) that performs increasingly elaborate eccentricities which ultimately cost the company whatever unnecessarily expended resources you can scrape out of their coffers. But don't be afraid to let your coworkers be part of that development. Oddities and quirks are often off-putting and can make you unlikeable when meeting new people. People don't like things that they have to think about and anything new or different is challenging. (Don't flatten yourself for the sake of passive resistance though. You are a beautiful, unique and loveable flower. Shining like a star is part of who you are so you better not hide that light you magical fucking goddess! But, maybe remove the shade slowly. Sensually even. Pull the cover down nice and easy and let little rays of light peek through for a while cause you don't wanna blind anyone, you glowing Adonis!) Part of this, and part of class solidarity at large, is being liked by your coworkers. (I know, applying praxis with people who might not explicitly agree with everything you believe. Ew, bummer.) Let them in early, be friendly and do your best to be approachable. Maybe you could try revealing your tactics as mildly embarrassing habits on par with being particular about how you tie your shoes? Or maybe you could be more matter of fact and quietly keep at it, offering a chat about it to whoever asks? There's no wrong approach and with some experimentation you can find what works best for you. Small, gentle reveals will be much easier for everyone to accept with enough time, dedication and consistency. (Hey?! It's fun right? Getting blasted with the same thought over and over again. Almost seems like a good tactic to employ. Just saying.)

When using any of these tactics, those you’ve learned from others or any of your own that you’ve developed it's a good idea to be careful and pay attention. If any of this is done carefully you can always fall back on some degree of plausible deniability (legal gaslighting) but it's best to just be careful and avoid direct confrontation from the get-go. You don't want to lose your job. And unless your coworker can absolutely be trusted (blood bonds are probably too extreme here but definitely not off the table, use your best judgement), or if you can make it sound so ludicrous that even if were they to tattle to management that you were actively sabotaging your own workplace that no one would believe it, probably don't tell anyone what you're doing. This might take something of a more creative approach depending on how you feel about committing to some light deception but coming up with a cool explanation for why you do __________ (insert tediously slow, annoying, persistently disruptive behavior/activity here) can also be a real blast. Heck, maybe you and your tabletop buddies can get together some weekend and design a whole character? (I don't know how tabletop games work. I've had sex lots of times with lots of different people. Sorry nerds.) The possibilities are endless. You don't have to lie but it is fun and I guarantee your boss has almost certainly lied to you. So, fuck 'em. (Your employer, as a corporate entity, business or whatever, despite being legally recognized as a person thanks to the 2009 Citizens United vs. FEC ruling, is physically incapable of experiencing or understanding your puny, outdated and puritanical feelings of guilt. Abandon morality! Reject theological and cultural authority! Be your own god! Become death and destroy what destroys you! Arise, arise! Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride!)

Above everything else remember, you control the means of production. Your employer profits off of your labor by refusing to compensate you fairly. If you were being paid what you're really owed there'd be no profit to collect. By making your company as inefficient as possible you're simply doing your part to flex the power that comes with those realizations. You have the power to refuse being overworked. You have the power to tilt the balance and let your productivity reflect your wages. You can perform your own tiny little strike every day! Be creative! Have fun! Create the world you want to live in! Fuck work!

#writing #anarchism #sabotage #quiet quitting #queer author #queer #anarchist #fuck capitalism #anti work #fuck work #workers rights #passive resistance #resistance #anarchist writing

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harghoes · 2 years

Text

Ghost of You

pairing: billy hargrove x reader

warnings: angst, canon death, not proof-read lol

tags: @karasong @megmeg-chan @dameronology

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July 4th, 1985 was the day tragedy struck. For most people, it was the fact that Starcourt Mall had been destroyed somehow. For Joyce Byers, it was because the person who believed her most died. For you, it was the tragedy of losing your loved one by a monster from a different dimension.

You watched as the Mind Flayer's slimy tendrils speared through his body, but if the final limb had not pierced his chest, you know he would have survived. You watched as his body dropped to the floor. Max’s scream barely registered in your hazy consciousness. You rushed towards him, the black blood sticking to and coating your legs.

Resting his head in your lap, he looks up at you. He tries to smile but it looks more like a pained grimace. You smiled down at him whimpering, “Hey. It’s alright. It’s okay, Billy.” You know you’re lying to him. There’s nothing okay with the way blood is trickling from his mouth. You take a glance down his body, noticing the blood seeping into his white tank in the neon lighting of Starcourt Mall. You look in his eyes again before saying, “You can rest now, Billy, I’ll take care of us. We’ll be fine.”

More blood coughs from his mouth as he mutters his final words, “I’m sorry.” Witnessing life drain from his eyes, pupils dilating, was the most difficult experience of your life. The moment he took his last breath, a sob wracked through your body. Max pulled you close to her in a forceful hug. Sobbing into her shirt, you couldn’t get his final words out of your head.

The funeral was the worst part. Many people showed up, but no one who knew the real Billy Hargrove, and the people who sat there that day to watch him die didn’t bother to attend. It was a closed casket with just his senior yearbook photo sitting at the front of the church. Sat in the front row, staring at that picture of him smiling while tears streamed down your face, the only thing grounding you was Max’s hand gripping yours.

Neil Hargrove, the man who made Billy’s life a living hell, was drunk off his ass. It was clear that he didn’t want to remember this day, but he deserved to after everything he did to Billy. He was more aggressive than usual, which always happens when he has a drink or two. You sat between him and Max, trying to protect her from his wrath as much as possible. It was clear Susan wasn’t going to defend Max against Neil. She never had in the past. Billy had always been the protector in his own way, and now that role is yours.

At the visitation, Susan came up to you. It was unlike her to come by herself to talk, Neil always being around, and it surprised you. She had started up a simple conversation with you before the alcoholic was stomping over.

“Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot to us,” She was talking about the boy like she had been there to keep him safe from his poor excuse of a dad, “I am glad we could have you here. I know it would mean a lot to Billy. And I know Billy was a little rough around the edges, but he was always sweet on you.”

As she finished talking, Neil appeared. He listened to her final words before letting out a scoff. You were preparing yourself for his words, knowing that you can’t truly make a scene, but you knew that what he had to say was far from the truth.

Neil finally opened his mouth, “Don’t lie to ‘em, Susan. Billy only cared about you as much as any of the other whores he brought around,” Taking a deep breath to save face, he had continued on, “In fact, why were you sitting in the front row? That’s reserved for family.”

For a moment, time stopped. Every single intrusive thought you’d ever had about hurting Neil Hargrove almost won. Your face held no emotion as you stared at him. You angrily tilted your head, nearly about to give into the impulse to punch him right in the nose, you catch a flash of red. Turning your attention to Max, you had seen how lonely she looked standing in the corner of the Hargrove-Mayfield living room, knowing that if you were to give this man the righteous indignation that he deserved, you would no longer be able to fulfill the promise to Billy Hargrove.

That promise you made is the only thing keeping you from bruising this man like he had his son countless times. But it’s not enough to keep you from putting him in his place. You had turned your attention back to Neil, furiously staring at the blue eyes which are perhaps the only thing he has ever given Billy of worth.

All the venom in those years of watching what he did to Billy came out in your next words.

“You are not going to talk to me like that at your son’s funeral,” You pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Not when I know for a fact that Billy cared for me more than anyone else in his life, he told me as much when he told me he loved me.” More tears spilled from your eyes as you snarled, “Billy had too much respect to hit you, but I don’t. He was your son, I am not. Any respect I had for you died the moment Billy took his last breath.”

Neil was visibly taken aback, but there was a creeping thought that if there weren’t other people around you wouldn’t be as safe.

You took one final look at him before spitting, “I will lay your ass out if I so much as hear from you again. Don’t think I won’t.” Looking over at Susan, you said through your teeth, “My condolences,” before you are marching your way to Max. You grabbed her hand and dragged her out of that broken home, determined to make her feel not as isolated anymore.

The funeral was two weeks ago now. Sifting through the remnants of Billy Hargrove was difficult, but you were plowing onwards through your life, more for Max than for yourself. Pretending to be strong turns out to be easier than actually being strong. The reality is that every moment without Billy is misery. The way that the oxygen filling your lungs is like razor blades, the beating in your chest seems weaker, and every single step taken throughout the day feels heavy with the knowledge that he’s six feet below your feet.

The early morning walk that you had decided to take to clear your head wasn’t making you feel better. Not only were your previous thoughts plaguing you, but as the sun rose the summer day got hotter and hotter, and the brown leather jacket that had once been Billy’s hung around your shoulders since you refused to remove it. The smell of him was the only sort of comfort available to you these days.

Sticking your hand in the pocket, you feel a cylindrical object. Confused, you wrap your hand around it and pull it out. Opening your hand, you quickly realize that it’s a film canister. Shaking the canister to see if it’s empty, you hear something clatter on the pavement. Looking down, you notice the lid and the roll of undeveloped film.

Crouching down to pick it up, the memory dawns on you as to how this got into your pocket. Hastily, you are grabbing the film and throwing it back into the canister. Popping the lid back on, you are in hysterics. Praying to whatever God is out there that this single film reel wasn’t ruined, but knowing deep down that it was.

That canister was in your pocket because Billy had given it to you. Five weeks ago, he had tossed it at you while asking if you would develop it for him. Five weeks ago, you promised him you’d develop them that afternoon. Five weeks ago, he was still alive.

The memory comes flooding back to you, it was one of the most truly happy moments you can remember having with him. Taking photos on the camera you had gifted him for his birthday this year. You remember how he smiled so genuinely when you took that first candid photo of him, accusing you of catching him when he wasn’t ready. You took another right after, catching the mildly scandalized look on his face. He was all blurry laughter and quick movement in his attempt to catch a photo of you, only to capture your equally blurry, bubbly laughter.

You filled up that film with clandestine, innocent photos of the two of you on a day that didn’t seem as important as it inevitably would become to you. When it was full, he had given it to you while you were in his room, only to be forgotten about in the bottom of that brown leather jacket pocket. All of the things that you had thought were more important than that single roll of film paled in comparison now, because those had been the last photos you would ever take together.

You were on your feet in an instant. Running to the film store that was on the corner square of downtown, the tears were flowing down your cheeks at the thought that you may have ruined one of the last things he had given you. Your stomach turns violently, anxiety shooting up your spine, as you realize that you have royally fucked up.

Reaching the store, the bell announces your desperate attempt to fix what you’ve broken. The employees startled at your frantic appearance, and you’re glad that there’s no other customers in the store so you can go directly to the employee. You are slamming the canister on the counter before he could even speak.

“Please tell me if this can be developed. Please tell me it’s not ruined!”

Your frenzied tone has him moving into action right away. He grabs the canister from the counter, and takes a look at you.

He simply asks you, “What happened?” before you are explaining how you dropped it. Trying to express how important that film is, he finally starts to move towards the back room. He says he’ll take a look at it before disappearing.

Guilt and worry overtake you. You’re chewing on your lip violently, watching the second hand on the clock tick by. It feels like forever waiting for him to return from the backroom and when he finally does, you can tell by the look on his face. The film is ruined. You destroyed it. There is nothing you, or anyone, can do to get those memories of Billy back.

The overwhelming urge to cry takes over as you feel the pressure in your eyes and in your nose. The man tries to tell you that the film is destroyed, but that doesn’t matter now. He gently asks if you want to keep it or if he can throw it away. You snatch the container from him before turning to rush home.

Arriving at your house, you see a certain redhead sitting on the front steps. You are quick to wipe the tears from your face, hoping to bury the heartache deep enough that the girl might not see it. You attempt to put on a smile by the time you reach her, but you already know that she’s seen right through you. If there was one thing that her and Billy had in common, it was the ability to read you like an open book.

Max’s smile drops as she takes in your state. At this very moment you were trying to be strong for her. You had made that promise to Billy and you weren’t about to break it so early.

But this fourteen year old girl was bearing witness to it, and while you know that this is not the worst thing that she has seen in her short lifetime, the guilt that comes with the understanding that dawns in her eyes is there all the same.

The exhaustion of it all weighs on you. You collapse onto the stairs alongside Max. The silence is deafening between you but there is an understanding in the way she looks forward, away from you, so that you can have this small privacy in your grief.

Max breaks the silence, and you’re grateful because you aren’t able to form words. She glances at you from her peripheral, making sure you’re listening.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you cry since the funeral,” she starts, “You have been strong for so long. Must be tiring.”

She turns her head to look at you, and you return her gaze. You look into her eyes, and even though they weren’t biological, you almost swear you see a glimpse of Billy in the determination in her eyes.

Max grabs your hand before softly promising, “I’m not the only one who needs to be looked after, y’know? Billy could be an asshole sometimes, but he’d want you to be okay too.”

Tears glaze over your vision. You grab the back of her head before pulling her into resting your foreheads together, closer than two sisters could ever be. You both stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, just accepting the comfort brought on by the other. The bittersweet knowledge that you have both lost Billy, but you still have each other to rely on, blankets you.

Pulling away, you reach into the pocket of Billy’s jacket. Fishing out the ruined film, you hold it in your hands before speaking to Max,

“I ruined this film. It was the only photos Billy and I had together.” You take a deep breath to try and push away the tears.

Max speaks softly, “Your love was more than photos. You still have memories of him, we all do.”

Sighing, you know she’s right but it doesn’t make it sting any less.

“That doesn’t matter, Max.” You breath shakily, “I don’t have any pictures of him. He exists now, only in my memories.”

Max pulls you into a hug, and the sound of your sobs fill the silence. She squeezes you tight to show you that she is there. When your sobs finally die down, she is mumbling in your ear.

“Billy exists in more than those photos. He is in the jacket that you’re wearing.” She leans away from the hug to look at you, “He is the grief you are feeling. He is that stupid Saint Christopher necklace you have.”

She rests her hand on your shoulder before sighing out, “He is the love that you hold. He is the reason that you’ll always be my sister.” She wipes her own tears away before speaking with a small laugh, “We’ll never be free from his dumbass.”

This gets a chuckle from you before you’re pulling her closer.

“Sister, huh?”

Max halfheartedly shrugs before saying, “Yeah, I always wanted one.”

She was right. Grief had pulled you apart but even now Billy was piecing you back together. After all, he had brought you a sister and he had left his own permanent mark on your soul.

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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