#and that shit is hard enough without the speech impediment

[cursedwithcaution]

being told by the dentist that i have “severe tongue tie” after 26 years with an obvious speech impediment that i was literally in speech therapy for and after seeing dentists and orthodontists my entire adolescence and after struggling to speak and be understood in every conversation every day of my life is wild like this has affected every aspect of my life and it could’ve and should’ve been fixed when i was a baby. all this it’s also likely had an impact on my posture, breathing, sleep. it’s probably part of the reason my teeth grew in so incorrectly that i needed to have 12 of them pulled and then had to have braces for 3 years. i have been infantilized and mocked and disregarded because of the way that i speak my entire life. i just accepted the fact that i’d never be able to speak without constant mental and physical effort and that effort isn’t even enough to be consistently understood. it made working customer service even more hellish than it had to be. it’s made me hate listening to myself talk because i can hear how hard i’m trying. and i just had to be used to it. i just had to deal with it and try harder and spell out my name so people could understand and practice talking with a pen in my mouth to overcompensate.

i have said so many times that i feel like my tongue is too big for my mouth and i had no idea that was both literally true and something that could be treated. it’s literally called “tongue tie” and i heard those words and suddenly 26 years of active struggle made a lot more sense. and i’m so angry. i’m so fucking mad because it didn’t have to be like this. like i can’t stop thinking about all the times i have stayed out of conversations, all the times i’ve had to repeat myself over and over, all the times people mocked the way i said my Rs and Ls. something so “small” has affected every area of my life and i thought it was MY fault for not working hard enough to grow out of it. and as glad as i want to be about the fact that i’ll be able to get it treated now, i am so so sad and angry for my past self who had no idea why they couldn’t talk like everyone else, why they couldn’t grow out of speech problems, why they couldn’t say their own name.

i think it’s part of why i’ve had to rely so heavily on the written word to communicate my thoughts and feelings. once i wrote a poem that ended with the words “this is the only way i know how to speak” and i meant it literally.

part of me wants to think this isn’t that big of a deal and that it wouldn’t have made that much of a difference in how i was treated (especially by my peers). but like. it is. it’s massive. it’s not everything, but it’s been part of everything. and i had just accepted that it always would be. it won’t be as easy to change it now than it would’ve been if it had been taken care of when i was a child. if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? i don’t know. i’ll never know.

[carrotsnake]

dungeon meshi fandom rant

i usually stay away from fictional autism headcanons or indulging in them wholesale because i'm more on the 'characters are constructs' side of things. some may exhibit traits we relate to but placing real-world diagnostic labels on walking metaphors makes things too nebulous. however laios touden is an exception to me since autism allegories (despite no authorial intent) are pretty hard-wired into both his arc and dungeon meshi's core themes about being an outsider. so for once the fandom autism memes feel genuine to me lol. it doesn't feel as fanon-heavy or platitudinous, actually it's pretty uplifting. i appreciate the positivity.

that being said the most dogshit dunmesh take i've seen lately is the assertion that laios and falin show us autistic men are villified for things autistic women are accepted for. the fuck are you people smoking? some rebranded MRA-pilled bullshit? log off tumblr and go outside, then point and show me where this is the truth. i don't know if you guys are all living in a feminist utopia that i'm not privy too, but if so send me the address because things couldn't be less like that everywhere i've ever been.

countless times i've been told 'oh you're exactly like a female copy of [socially anxious male friend/co-worker/family member who shares my personality] and then i gotta watch them get special treatment as i get left behind and scolded for not being normal enough. him being blunt is rebellious & brutally honest, me being blunt is just being a b*tch with no filter. how many times do you see autistic women reaching high positions of power and being revered as a misunderstood genius.

how about everyone reminding us to 'be nice' to the supposedly harmless awkward guy who keeps making sexual comments & invading our boundaries because he can't help it apparently. but strangely enough, i have gone my whole life without creeping on others. only to be called creepy and off-putting by these same social equality preachers for not applying makeup or styling my hair right. autistic women are more likely to be sexually harrassed and/or abused than neurotypical women and no one gaf (let's b real they don't care when it happens to neurotypical women either if the man has a good enough sob story.) shit like walking strangely, having a speech impediment and talking too much about esoteric topics was enough to be outcasted for us. once more, with feeling: what are you people smoking?

and critically, falin is pretty. she's conventionally pure, self-sacrificial, beautiful with hollywood curves, soft-spoken, and never questions anyone nor asserts herself over others when her needs aren't being met. her dislikes in the adventurer's bible are 'nothing in particular', she never spoke out against her village's bullying even when she had it worse than laios, quickly forgives her parents for exiling her, and never shows any opinion on marcille's use of dark magic. she's a paragon of femininity. anything less than that, and she would probably invoke similar if not more disgust from her peers than laios through the audacity of not conforming to gender expectations. but she likes holding bugs or whatever so...whoa! she's so feral and subversive amiright guys. but crucially she looks cute while doing it so we're not too uncomfortable to stan.

i love laios so much, he's in my newest blorbo collection for sure but calling the female characters who don't like him judgemental is not a good look. we as the readers who have been inside the main chara's head know he's a good guy - but in the context of dungeon meshi's world, where sexism is as prevalent as stranger danger, it's fair for them to assume bad intent and keep their distance. they're looking out for their own safety and you're mad about that because, what, it makes your 2D nigel sad? cry about it.

so quit using anime characters as fodder for your thinly-veiled 'everyday men milk themselves' preaches. the touden siblings are not a good example of this. if you unironically agree with that take: it's time to go talk to some real women broski.

[clatterbane]

Currently trying to get into a new project that's frankly pretty terrifying!

I've been listening to more audiobooks and creepypasta recordings in the background lately. And I really wouldn't mind trying to do some reading and maybe contribute to someone else's enjoyment myself!

But, that would involve actually listening to the output and doing some editing. And my brain is still tied into some interesting knots around that exact thing!

I know exactly what the issue is, and it has frankly held me back on too many things that I was otherwise interested in doing over the years. I may also be one of the surface hyperverbal AuDHD types, but man spoken communication is hard enough already without extra shit piled on. 😬

I am also at least a couple of grown-ass adults in a trench coat by now. It has been many years since anyone felt entitled to harass me over whatever speech impediment/disability accent/whatever the fuck else they're perceiving that I may still be showing. My "peers" cut that shit out before I even hit college, when a transfer into a less toxic environment fixed that issue along with the rest of the outright bullying garbage.

It has been even more years (like, 40+) since I had to deal with that abusive speech therapist who wanted to "fix" my regional accent even more than what I was actually referred over. Which directly involved making me repeat things into a tape recorder and listen to the playback, while jumping down my throat over "not even trying to do better". Meanwhile, I'm not even sure what is supposed to be wrong, much less how to go about changing it. Thankfully that shit didn't last more than maybe a couple of months before my mother figured out something was off and put a stop to it. The experience still instilled a very specific aversion to listening to recordings of my own stupid voice.

Yep, I still do sound like I'm from West Virginia, BTW. (Because I kinda am, if with more time spent just over the state line.) And really fucking hated the frequent comments that got around London.

(One benefit of moving to Sweden, honestly. There isn't the same class-entangled weird cultural baggage around English accents (where Americans in general face some garbage before you even get to more stigmatized dialects), ESL speakers largely don't seem to gaf anyway--and frankly most Swedes keep enough reserve going that they're unlikely to say much even if they did find my accent particularly strange. The only person who's even commented after I opened my mouth was someone who spent like 25 years in Texas, curious where I was from (nowhere in Texas). The huge tradeoff: crippling self-consciousness around trying out my broken Swedish on people. I'm not falling into the too-frequent "expat" failure mode of using more English still because it mostly works and is easier, I'm just neurotic as hell. At least I probably do come across as more awkward than arrogant.)

That would seem like more than enough time to make moves toward untangling some of this nest of mental hangups. Nobody is likely to act like that at me these days. And if they do, fuck 'em. I don't have any compelling reason(s) to care these days.

I am still not looking forward to the sound of my own voice, even enough to work out recording levels. But should be fairly low pressure in another way as these things go, sitting in my own house reading into a microphone at my leisure.

[kaleidoscopek9]

ALRIGHT-

SO

I've had this list of headcannons just sitting in my notes app of my phone and I wanna put it somewhere so 👀

(These are heavily inspired by what I could gather from the skele boys in @bonelyheartsclub! I just threw in a few of my own.)

-----------*

Sans

- Does a LOT of stargazing and has quite a few space-themed knicknacks and clothes in his room. He's got a telescope too!

- Dad jokes. Any time is prime dad joke time. He's never let an opportunity slip past him.

- He's an absolute prank master. You're considered lucky if you happen to avoid the ones he's planted around the house like bombs waiting to go off.

- He's cryptic as fuck. Always giving half-true answers to every question. Occasionally he may slip up and give you a brutally honest response, but that's only with the people he trusts most, and he finds being open to be very difficult.

- He's constantly referencing memes and vine quotes from days of yore. He practically has a database of every meme ever in his head, and he doesnt let it go to waste.

- Cuddling with him is basically a one way ticket to nap-town, and you constantly find yourself waking up to him smooshed against you on the couch after dozing off. For being a skeleton, he is a surprisingly comfortable snuggler.

-----------*

Papyrus

-So much baking and cooking. It's his favorite past time, and the kitchen never smells the same when he's done making whatever he's making in there (it's 12 times out of 10 pasta) And while his cooking may be sub-par, you never say no when he asks you to try his latest dish.

- He's always up to go shopping with you. It never matters where. Malls are his favorite, especially the big grand ones with fountains and huge windows. He makes it a point to bring spare cash because you KNOW he's going to ride the mini marry-go-round even if he can barely fit in the seats.

- You two love to binge watch cooking channels. Always discussing which foods would be the most fun to make, writing down recipies, and having a hell of a time trying to pause the show at the right points to get all the information down.

- Papyrus is notorious for game nights. He's always pulling out boards and cards that you've never heard of before and never starts a game until he's absolutely certain you know the rules. Winning of course, is always his prime goal when it comes to games, but if he senses you're on a particularly rough losing streak, he MAY slip up. Occasionally. Just enough so you can win a game or two. Or five.

-----------*

Blue

- Hyper as all hell. You give him a reasonable dose of sugar or caffeine and he could power an entire city for a few hours without breaking a sweat.

- If he had been in high school, Blue would have been a theater kid. He's always humming a tune from a Broadway show or Disney movie, and he's got a pretty good collection of songs on his brother's Spotify playlist.

- This guy will blast Steven Universe music at full volume he has no shame.

- If you are ever driving somewhere with him, an aux cord is a MUST. Singing in the car is a very frequent thing with you two, and you'll only get out after the song is over.

- He likes cryptids! Mothman is his favorite and he firmly believes he exists somewhere.

- He's your workout buddy. If he manages to drag you to the gym with him, that is.

- Blue hates seeing you down in the dumps, and is always trying to cheer you up with his quirky puns and jokes to get you smiling again.

- He'd be the best motivational poster ever. Whenever he picks up that you're going through a rough spot and falling behind on self-care, he knows just what to say to put the spark back in you again.

-----------*

Stretch

- Radiates goblin energy.

- A goddamn meme lord.

- He's made two or three widely known viral videos and nobody knows it was him.

- You need someone to go to an anime convention with? Stretch is your guy. He's god awful at planning stuff out, but he'll make sure you both have a good time, no matter what happens.

- He's really big into nerd culture, and he DMs for a dungeons and dragons game every week.

- He'll occasionally smoke, but he doesnt have lungs, so he does it more for shits and giggles than anything else.

- As lazy as he seems, he is very reliable. If he knows it's something important to you, he'll get it done. Chores though, he's a lot more iffy with.

- He really likes bees.

-----------*

Red

- Talks big talk, but he's actually a huge softie.

- He's basically a big pillow with sharp teeth that can curse.

- A nervous wreck.

- His brother shops at Hot Topic. He shops at Spencer's. Very convenient.

- He's a pretty big flirt and throws out little compliments and things to butter you up from time to time.

- If you take Red into a Dave and Busters he will win the most expensive prize at the booth in about 2 hours. (He knows how to cheat at every single game)

- He's a competitive gamer, and has a pretty impressive following on Twitch.

- He can go from loud and brash to quiet and insecure in a matter of moments, depending on the situation.

- He loves to bake, although it's something he will never be caught dead doing.

- Comfort is not his strong suit, but he will defend you without a second thought.

- He can be a little clingy and will text you now and again to ask what you're up to, just to ease his mind.

-----------*

Boss

- Professionalism is his game.

- The walking embodiment of Hot Topic.

- He loves to listen to rock and screamo music. He's also got a thing for Disney villain songs.

- You need some punk biker or vampiric goth fashion advice? Boss got ya.

- Skellator Man.

- Out of all the skeletons, Boss has the biggest ego.

- He hates admitting he's wrong. He would rather DIE than admit he's fucked up something.

- "I am not nice-"

- He could kill a man with his high heels.

- If it's got spikes he'll probably wear it.

- Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsu

- Did I mention he's a cold blooded tsundere.

-----------*

Nox

- Small angery man.

- He listens to a lot of classic and instrumental music. He finds it very sophisticated.

- Wakes up obscenely early in the morning. Always followed by a cup of the most bitter coffee on the planet.

- Comes up with the best insults. He could roast someone so hard that they'd dissolve into a pile of soot. He could glare at you and you'd cease to exist. He's that good.

- WILL step on you without remorse.

- Threatens to kill someone on a daily basis.

- Very rarely has spare time for himself. He's always keeping busy doing something.

- Loves dark, dry humor. A child falling off a swing will have him laughing for a good five minutes.

- Has a stone cold poker face.

- He might have a softer side to him. You may never know because of the walls he's built up around him.

-----------*

Rus

- He absolutely adores animals. He volunteers at the local animal shelter and plans on adopting every single dog there.

- Rus has a massive sweet tooth. Donuts are his favorite, and you can easily bribe him with anything sugar coated.

- A road trip master. You put him in a camper and he knows exactly where he's going and what he's doing.

- "Going off grid, fuck yeah- I pull out my credit cards and shred 'em."

- Hiking, camping and geocaching are some of his favorite things to do. He loves to explore the wilderness and it's like he has a built-in compass for finding his way.

- His ideal date is going to a Wal-Mart and causing absolute chaos by riding bikes around and tossing all of the inflatable balls from their displays.

- Cryptidcore energy.

- Rus loves watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and ghost huntings. He's a big fan of Supernatural and Stranger Things, too.

- Stutters and slurs his words a lot. He's got some speech impediments from the gold canines in his mouth.

- A bit lacking when it comes to social skills, but he can be extremely caring and sweet.

-----------*

Ash

- Very soft-spoken and awkward. He doesn't get much social interaction and is still figuring some things out.

- He's very self-aware of the wound in his head. Whenever he has to leave the house he wears some sort of hat to cover it up.

- Practically lives in his garden. He understands plants more than he does human beings, and he spends time daily tending to whatever he's growing.

- Him and his brother are both vegetarians, and the smell or sight of meat makes them both feel sick to themselves.

- Has trouble sleeping due to his reoccurring nightmares. He will often sit in his garden late at night to help calm himself.

- Radiates soft energy. He would absolutely give the best hugs out of all the skeletons.

- Very touch-starved. Physical affection is something he rarely recieves, and he probably lingers with touches a lot longer than he should.

- Unintentionally makes God-teir jokes without realizing it.

----------*

Poplar

- Very well-educated in a lot of things. He really likes stocking up on useless factoids and making up his own just to mess with people.

- He answers Jeopardy questions with concerning accuracy.

- He enjoys going out to eat, and he's always up to try fancy foods.

- He likes photography and reading. He is well into the Harry Potter series.

- Poplar is prepared for anything at any time. A lot of stuff doesnt phase him at all, and it's difficult to catch him off-guard.

- He's willing to try anything new, once.

- Always willing to help out with schoolwork if he thinks you're seriously struggling with it.

- He's always carrying around small planners and notebooks to write in so he can keep track of things.

[toxoiddiamond]

ORLANDO BENJAMIN FORRESTER What smells remind them of their childhood? His mother always wore (and still wears) Emeraude perfume. Every now and then someone will pass by Orli and he’ll catch the scent of Emeraude and be immediately transported back to his childhood. What filler words do they use in everyday speech? Do they have an accent or speech impediment? If someone says something that requires an acknowledgement but not a full-on response, he’ll usually say something like “ah,” or “mm,” just something to make it clear he’s listening. He also begins sentences with “well…” if he’s thinking over his response. He just has a typical American accent, no speech impediments and nothing remarkable about his manner of speaking. Do they make quick decisions and act on them? Do they take time out to think about actions and consequences? Orli isn’t exactly impulsive when it comes to his decision making (unless he has no choice but to act on instinct). If he can, he prefers to take some time to really think things through, to look at things from every angle, before he acts. This is why he’s given so much leeway at work to basically do what he thinks is best– the higher-ups know that Orli never acts on a whim and wouldn’t be doing anything unless he’d considered all the possibilities, all the possible outcomes, etc. How many unread messages are in their phone? None. Orli reads all of his messages as soon as they come in, and responds immediately unless the message doesn’t require a response. He’s not one to leave unread texts, emails, or anything else. Where do they go when they’re angry? Anywhere that will get him away from the source of his anger. If he’s angry at work, he’ll make an excuse to leave the office for whatever reason (whether it’s to do some research or to grab some coffee) and will just hang out in his car for a while until he’s calmed down. Outside of work, he usually takes out any anger or frustration by doing some kickboxing at the gym. On what occasion do they lie? Orli isn’t too much of a liar, he usually tells the truth about things, or tries to give a diplomatic answer if he can’t be as honest as he’d like (this happens a lot when he speaks with the higher-ups at work). Mainly he tells little white lies, harmless lies just for the sake of sparing people’s feelings or keeping the peace. He’s not brutally honest by any means and doesn’t want to make anyone feel needlessly bad about themselves. How would they respond to an apology from somebody they still can’t forgive? He would probably say he accepts the apology if it seems sincere. He still would never forget what they did, but he would at least be civil if it really did seem like they were sorry. But if the apology seemed insincere to him, he wouldn’t accept it and would continue to ignore the person whenever possible. What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? He cheated on his girlfriend while he was in college. He got wasted at a party after midterms and ended up hooking up with a random guy. He felt absolutely horrible about the situation and confessed to her right away. She was understandably upset and broke up with him on the spot. Although he was heartbroken, since she was his first love, he didn’t fight her on it or try to convince her to stay with him because he knew he’d completely fucked up and ruined any trust they had between them. They sort of made up about a year later and became friends, though of course things were never the same between them. Do they enjoy working out? Do they play any sports? Orli really enjoys doing various types of martial arts– his current interest is kickboxing, and he has been taking classes for a few months. He’s also done kenpo karate, taekwondo, and jiu jitsu. He’s not a black belt or anything, he just enjoys dabbling and likes taking out his anger in a constructive way. He used to do track in high school, but he’s not really into running anymore. Do they believe people who say they have no regrets? Do they have any? If not, why don’t they have any? Orli thinks that anyone who says they don’t regret anything is full of shit. In his mind, if you don’t regret anything, then you haven’t learned anything or bettered yourself. He has plenty of regrets, some more significant than others. Which do they prefer, a lot of attention, or a little appreciation? Appreciation, hands down. Too much attention makes him feel a bit smothered, but any type of appreciation, even a quick thank you or an acknowledgment of his hard work, gives him a lot of satisfaction. Where do they feel the safest? Once Orli and his siblings all started doing well for themselves, they all pitched in to help buy their parents their dream home in Gig Harbor, Washington. It’s a very lovely, slightly secluded home with a gorgeous view. Orli goes to visit them there at least once a year, and just being there is extremely relaxing for him. By far, it’s the place he feels the safest. Are they more likely to ask for permission or forgiveness? Although he’s not the type to just go rogue all the time, he’s also not someone who asks permission for every little thing. If there’s something he wants to do, something he thinks will help a case along, but he thinks the higher-ups might say no, he’ll just do it without asking and tell them about it later. He’s never really gotten in trouble because it’s always worked out well in the end. Do they stay up late or wake up early? Both. If Orli had his way, he’d stay up late and also sleep in– that’s just the way his body clock is. But as it is, he stays up late (both to work and for pleasure), then wakes up fairly early for work. He does sleep in on his days off, and absolutely refuses to do anything that would require him to get up early on those days. Have they ever been bullied or teased? Orli grew up in Springfield, Illinois, which is widely known for being one of the most racist towns in the US. So, yes, he’s been bullied, teased, assaulted, and all manner of things. His parents tried to tell him to keep his head down, to not start anything or fight back because they were always worried that if he tried to fight back it would only make things worse for him. But by the time Orli got to middle school, he was tired of just taking it. He snapped one day when one of his bullies started bothering him and ended up beating the shit out of him. Orli got in huge trouble and was nearly expelled from school, but everyone pretty much backed off after that, so he felt it was worth it. Who was their first best friend? Where did they meet him or her? Do they still see each other? His first best friend was a classmate of his from high school named Robby. He had friends before that, but no one he was super close with or hung out with all the time. It wasn’t until high school when Orli became more social and started making a ton of friends– he was quite popular. Robby was on the track team with him, and they became fast friends. They aren’t really in touch anymore, but Orli will always think of him fondly. What are their weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling? He is definitely prideful, and has a hard time admitting when he needs help, or when he’s struggling. Those are things he tends to keep to himself. He feels that he needs to be completely self-reliant, and that asking for help shows too much weakness. He also has a hard time saying no to people if they ask him to do something, and as a result, he is always stretched very thin. He takes on far too many projects/requests at a time and just ends up stressing himself out– this is part of the reason why his former partner was such an asset. He always said no for Orli and basically told people to stop asking him/them to do anything more, that they were already busy enough with their own responsibilities. What are their eating habits? Orli is quite a healthy eater. He’s the type to view food purely as fuel, rather than something for enjoyment. He’s a decent cook and usually does meal prep for himself on his days off so he’ll have food he can quickly pop into the microwave without having to think too much. Once in a while he will indulge in something like a slice of cake, or a burger and fries, but the majority of the time he prefers to stick to healthier things. What is the most violent thing they’ve ever done, and the most violent thing done to them? The most violent thing he’s ever done was beating up a bully in middle school. The kid ended up in the hospital, though his injuries weren’t serious enough that he needed to stay overnight or anything– he had a couple of broken bones, a broken nose, and needed some stitches on his face. Orli has shot people in the line of duty, but he would consider that less violent, because he always does his best to remain calm and collected and only shoots to incapacitate rather than kill. He has had a lot of violence directed at him in his life. Fellow classmates used to hit him and push him, he was assaulted by a police officer once (before he became a detective). But the most violent thing done to him was when him and his partner were caught in a firefight in the middle of a drug bust. His partner was killed, and Orli ended up in the ICU with severe injuries. Did they have an easy or difficult childhood? Overall, it was pretty difficult. Growing up where he did was not easy and he had a hard time making friends or living any sort of normal life. But his parents and siblings were a great support system, and he never felt like he was completely alone. Things got much easier for him in high school, when his father got a new job in another state and they moved to a much less backwards town. He ended up loving high school because his classmates weren’t all racist assholes and he made tons of friends.

[unik0rnu]

For Lucy: 3, 6, 11, 15, 21, 27? Harrison: 8, 14, 18, 30?

Thank you :* and sorry for it taking a lil longer but i had to stay extra hours today. 

Lucy:

3. What does your oc’s voice sound like? (Or, if you have one, what’s their voiceclaim?) Can they sing, whistle, or roll their rs? Do they have any speech impediments or notable dialects/accents?

I actually recorded a short sample, been trying to dig her some actual audio --> Feit voice claim , it’s Elif voice from Masquarede Bloodlines but i would throw a very soft pinch of russian like accent there mostly because of keep on overhearing Rosey talking it in club over and over when they were just two in a room. By her looks its probably expected she would have a sweeter girly tone of voice but nope. Its calm and more bored like sounding, lot of sighs in between and pretty balanced. Its weird to hear her raising the voice or screaming. Also i must admit with over 500 hours of gameplay its so hard to like try to hear the oc in other voice than usual game one with changed frequency.

She probably can sing some slow tones but she chooses not to. Aside from dancing, the singing is one of things that would feel a bit embarrassing to do in public or being caught so she would fall to whistling rather than singing and her best teacher and teasing inspiration is Harrison with his bird like whistling and other interesting sounds. Roll her r’s eh....watch her finding out about it and getting annoyed late night at Fizztop trying to do that :))

 6. What kind of clothes is your oc least comfortable wearing?

Any type of bulky like jackets and pants that keep making noises when you move. She walks like a penguin in them and cannot properly sneak, neither run. The gift suit from Mags is like already at the middle of her comfort but because its cut is perfect she likes it and wind is no longer beating under her ass :)) If she is forced to wear some more clothes she prefers to keep at least the leg part fairly light. In terms of shoes she prefer the higher ones that keep you protected from getting wet when stepping into the puddle. Also she hates hats. 

11. Does your oc have any interests/hobbies that they hide from everyone? Why do they hide these interests?

I don’t think any of her hobbies needs to be hidden as she simply doesn’t give a damn what Gage or other’s would think about. Maybe a small pile of these very old romantic black-white movies/magazines where women are falling in men arms and go all “oh ah....i missed you so much Jack” going all soapy and soft. She would like put a hat on mannequin and try to recreate some dialogues when alone at Fizztop. Like...she is bitch but she can be fairly soft when alone and some deep feelings hit her. 

15. What’s your oc’s morning routine like?

If Gage didn’t get kicked out or tired of being glued to he will be the one waking her up, if not she will eventually roll and hit the floor. First she always brushes her hair and washes the face to apply fresh layer of black powder, she ain’t comfortable without it even around Gage. Also washes the hands and apply thick layer of some herbal-ish cream like mix since she always keeps them under gloves whole day, skin might get nasty after a while if not taken care of.. Then by the time she gets to kitchen Harrison is already waiting with razorgrain coffee for everyone and breakfast since he is always up (tryin to make up for being a tough bastard) and makes her braids when she is catching up with the plan of the day. She will still sit in her underwear/pyjamas and fluffy flip flops with just thrown blanket around her shoulders. Dressing up is always the last thing on the list as she always makes sure to not stain the suit with egg splash or coffee. Blood ain’t any easier to wash but...habits and like decency to at least leave clean and fresh. Last checkup on sharpness of her knives and stock of calmex in case of mental emergency - Gage and Harrison take care of firearms maintenance and repairs  (i can imagine them loudly debating and yelling at each other how to best handle it)  

21. What’s a fact you haven’t shared about this oc?

She’s infertile. That’s how she finally convinces Father she isn’t his mother as the recordings of her shooting Harrison and running with baby towards vault weren’t convincing enough for him. 

27. How does your oc handle fear?

First though is always run - find cover and gather yourself but that’s coward-ish and she would not do that with company around. If she is forced to stay or forces herself and is lacking some calmex to shove in, she will start loudly talk to herself like “oh...wait, shit, what i cannot handle it,,oh no no of course i can, just watch me, ha ha that’s not bad as it looks *maniacal talk and laugh. Usually this might scare the other side if she deals with a human but its just to cover the fear with other thoughts and impulses. 

Pop Harrison time:

8. What’s it like inside your oc’s mind? (Literally, or metaphorically.)

If calm and meditating its like that zen garden with very slow flowing streams of grassy fountains and just him levitating in the air, like clear mind, no thoughts, no questions, just pure existence (maybe holding Gage by a throat meanwhile....some small sins can slip in) but then comes a moment when from behind the garden comes a radiation tsunami of green goo along with rad storm of lightings and flashes, ruining and splashing all over it and he knows its time for some action. Hearing inside his mind would be also like two modes, zen deep thoughts of progressing the incoming and past actions of the day but also dog like simple desires when in combat just...”kill kill....wait..not that one, right, kill kill kill, done, now i want sweet roll”. He is either balanced as fuck or a total chaos - nothing going in between.

14. If your oc spent one day free from any consequences or recognition for their actions, how would they act?

If he could just act like a normal person first he would totally take off that heavy coat and hat. It’s not that he doesn’t like it or find it impractical but its the hiding part. Fresh drink, just in shirt, letting the sun just hit and warm his face, not being bothered that someone will point a finger at him, noticing anything weird. Stepping in a bar like anyone else, not trying to act like a badass dangerous type going straight for a dark corner, talking with folks, catching up on gossips, hitting on bartender woman. Being a bit more nonchalant and relaxed.

 18. How does your oc see themself? How does this compare to the way other ocs see them?

 Smart, organized badass who is worth listening to, even his dark jokes, he also still considers himself quite handsome despite the age. The gang doesn’t deny him being badass, neither smart but he might overdo it with the long explanations and stories over a simple question or just attacking with sudden wave of advices that are not always that necessary. Like...telling you to not look into your pistol’s barrel when checking what’s wrong with it...like really? You don’t say...  Strangers can’t say much about him as he doesn’t put himself much out there for chit chats, only short exchange of necessary information. 

 30. Tell a random fact about this oc!

He stands over deeply asleep people and stares at them.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jude & Jac

Jude: [post rave] Jude: you can stop your 1 woman campaign now, freshers looks fun, I admit it Jac: That's why they give out free shit and throw these things Jac: convince people like you, good to know you've fallen for it 🎣😏 Jude: I'm convinced enough to crash Trinity's 😜✌ Jude: here on out Jac: good luck, jailbait Jac: the two years you've got left in school show 👶 Jac: you can't even grow unconvincing facial hair like the boys in my year Jude: nah they don't, why ma & da get so stressed every time I leave the house 💋👗👠 Jac: Predators enjoying the fact you think so is another issue entirely Jude: 🙄😏 Jude: can never just have a nice chat with you Jac: What do you need to chat about? Jude: what do YOU need to chat about? Jac: That was an...attempt, I'll give you that Jude: alright, here's the nudge, her name starts with S & last time she was ranked she was at like a 4 Jude: but I'm willing to bump her up in light of recent events Jac: You've reconnected and + 1 up, have you? Jac: That's nice Jude: taking a decent 📷 is good for a few points Jude: probs should lose 'em again when it's dad 👍 but whatever Jac: Very generous Jac: do appreciate you keeping your 👍 to yourself Jac: what do you wanna ask then? Jude: ikr I'm in a generous mood Jude: I'm not forcing you into a q & a Jude: I just think it's good you're mates again Jude: be a bit weird having her there & not Jude: some girl isn't gonna be there 📷 to turn her into a headless 👻 whenever shit gets awkward Jac: That your professional opinion, captain obvious? Jac: well, cheers for your blessing, like Jude: I could tell you were waiting for it so Jac: Clearly Jac: the little you think about has always been my GREATEST concern 😏 Jac: and she'll be up and over the 🌙 at her new score, of course Jude: all I REALLY wanna know is if she has a 🌾🐄 accent now, like? be honest Jude: it's still silver 🥄 yeah? Jac: Err, come on, it was NEVER Southside Jac: and even if it was, that'd count for NOTHING here Jac: so posh some of 'em it's a speech impediment Jude: so you're saying she don't fit right in with the 👸🤴 & qualifies as a bit of rough instead Jude: gutted for her Jude: her ma'd be even more 💔 wonder how she is Jac: That isn't funny, Jude Jude: not about her mum, that was well sad Jude: posh boys not thinking Sav is, is a bit though Jac: Have you ever tried engaging your brain before you speak Jac: not being completely insensitive should not be this hard for you Jude: ?? Jac: Don't ?? at me Jac: you say it's 'well sad' but you're the one that cracked a joke in the first place Jude: I didn't Jude: not about that Jac: I'm not pulling it from nowhere, it's still on my screen Jac: I don't think you realize how badly you come across half the time Jude: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come across like a massive dickhead Jude: I think Sav's alright, I'm not trying to take the piss out of her Jac: Well it's alright this time 'cos you only said it in front of me Jude: be going a bit far to check in with her Jude: not weird at all Jac: you're saying I SHOULD put it past you? Jac: you are weird Jude: I'm saying I'm not about to say it front of her as I don't talk to her, am I Jac: doesn't mean getting into the habit of saying every 'hilarious' thought that enters your head out loud is a plan Jude: yeah alright Jude: fair enough Jac: Anyway, Sav isn't interested in any boys that look like they came from 🐴s not 🐒s Jude: 🤣 Jude: you wanna be careful saying 👦🏽👦🏾👦🏿 look like 🐒 but I get you Jac: She hasn't got a boyfriend of any colour so I weren't saying that Jude: I didn't reckon so, not unless she got a lad to follow her to uni Jude: but who wants that? Jac: Her ex was holding her back hardcore but he's given that up, thankfully Jude: he sounds like a right laugh & not at all like a prick Jac: That's boys for you Jude: 😜 Jude: when do they grow up? 40s or what? Jac: Have you met our father? Jac: never Jude: oh great Jac: 🤷 Jude: it's alright for you, you can get all the 🤓 lads when you're done studying or whatever Jude: least they'll be smart Jac: smart boys are worse Jac: they want to explain everything to you Jude: really? Jude: fuck that then Jac: dumb but kind are the lofty heights you can shoot for Jude: like a 🐶 Jac: yep Jac: loyalty too, forgo the collar Jude: yeah you're right that is lofty heights Jude: maybe when I'm 40, I can find a lad that don't need one Jude: stop him going over the road & 💔 me Jac: shitting where you eat is gross but convenient, that's boys Jude: 👍 Jude: Jess is so lucky he can pick a lad or a girl Jac: Most people are undesirable Jac: gay lads will only touch him if they think he's straight and that's their type Jac: and girls are a whole different beast altogether Jude: that'll be why he's so 😒 Jac: as a rule or more than usual right now? Jude: we all know why he's 😒 right now Jude: you pissed off somewhere more fun without him Jac: I think he's just fine Jac: and he did it first, every weekend, like Jude: speaking of, his latest gig was not the one Jude: so he's probably 😒 about that Jac: like, he was shit, the crowd weren't the right one or the equipment weren't? Jude: he needs a better 🎸 but that ain't news Jude: seemed like he didn't wanna be there to me Jac: Hm, a fight with one of his girlfriend or boyfriends then Jac: meant to make him better so he's fucked up there Jude: relatable Jac: 🙄 Jac: alright Jude: don't be 🙄 @ me Jude: your dating history ain't spotless Jac: I've never dated anyone so it is Jac: 📑 definition Jude: your hook up history then, you know what I mean cos me either Jac: I don't fall in love with them like an idiot, it's entirely different Jude: I fell in love with the one, who I was dating for a bit Jude: I'm not going about falling for 'em all Jac: Still did, didn't you Jac: I can't even remember any of mine Jac: nothing came into play but proximity and timing Jude: 🏆🥇 if you want Jac: take it over your 💔 obviously Jude: yeah Jac: 🙄 I repeat Jude: whatever Jude: I was stupid, it was ages ago Jac: you brought it up Jude: it was my mistake, I can Jac: not a sounding board for your whining Jude: alright, my bad Jac: used to you Jude: you've got your own room now, get over it, like Jac: unfortunuately, that doesn't stop us sharing a family so I don't think I will, thanks Jac: unfortunuately, that doesn't stop us sharing a family so I don't think I will, thanks Jude: it's a part time one for you now, don't have to see this face til 🎄🎅☃️🎁 Jac: Unfortunately, can stay over Spring though, but there's no catering in the Xmas hol 💔 Jude: 👎 - 1 point to St Andy's Jude: is Sav going to her mum or dad for the hols? Jac: better than home, get all my meals and room cleaned for me every week so Jac: literally only just got here, who's thinking about leaving Jac: some other halls you can stay, so maybe she'll find someone there, so she only has to do actual Xmas day or whatever Jude: me now, maybe I should bother going to uni if they're gonna clean for me Jac: only if you get into a good one Jac: and pay extra, hence most people are self-cater, but what else do I need my grant, loan and scholarship for, may as well Jude: 🤔 I hear you, that's unlikely Jac: you have time Jac: two years can change everything Jude: not my 🧠 it can't Jude: my concentration ain't there unless I'm doing 🎨 Jac: you could try harder, and you know it Jude: at what? Jac: concentrating on enough subjects to get you into a decent Uni Jac: you don't need every one, just enough to boost your points Jude: sounds easy that 😤😏 Jude: if I'm only in it for the 🧹🧺 🧼🧽 & I ain't 🤓 enough for one of 'em, ain't much point Jac: It's not about being nerdy or naturally intelligent, it's about being smart with the system Jude: yeah but it's probably also about going cos you wanna learn stuff & be there not just cos you wanna leave home for a bit Jac: most people never use their degrees, so you tell me Jude: that's true Jude: what subjects then? Jac: Depends what you want to do, Art in some form, assumedly? Jac: Fuck Irish and Spanish and PE, duh, knuckle down with your rest to up your points as much as you can then absolutely ace Art Jude: Alright, I'm decent at PE anyway Jude: that'll be easy points Jac: Exactly, no need to purposely fuck them up, but focus harder on the rest, especially the ones you are less decent at without trying Jude: please tell me you've left your notes here Jac: Of course Jac: under my bed, if you haven't lit it on 🔥 Jude: it's only been a week, gimme chance Jac: well, don't reckon they'll let you get a double yet Jac: I still need a place to crash in the holidays and it certainly won't be beside you snoring your head off Jude: might do if I steer clear of lads for a bit Jude: not that I've done half as much with 'em as everyone reckons I have Jac: People find shit to chat regardless, not worth paying no mind to, no more mind to stupid lads either Jude: I don't care if people don't reckon I'm a virgin still even though I am Jude: it's not like it matters Jac: Yeah, those people will all be irrelevant before you know it Jude: loads of people are well jealous of your uni btw Jude: reckoned you'd wanna hear that Jac: Of course Jac: x2 Jude: 😏 Jac: It's more of a flex than Trinity even, and only a handful of people got in there Jude: when did you work out what you wanted? it feels like you've been going on about it forever Jude: but like actually Jac: 🤔 Jac: I can't remember a point where it wasn't my plan, honestly Jac: more abstract when I was little and didn't have the titles and disciplines to put to it but Jac: I always liked murder mysteries and shit, what makes us tick Jude: right Jude: you love a true crime podcast Jac: 😏 Jac: but I'd rather deal with the living murderers than the corpses of their victims so Jude: well yeah Jude: 🦴🦷 bit gross Jac: 🧠 are much better Jude: long as you're not cutting into it Jac: I won't be Jac: if I'd combined biology, and gone that route Jude: I won't be either, tah Jude: science is proper hard Jac: Psychology has a shit load of it involved anyway, but I can blag it Jude: you're SO excited, I can tell Jude: 🤓💕 Jac: Of course I am Jac: it's everything I've ever wanted Jude: it's weird you're so far away though, it don't feel like you are Jac: Glad my prescence and now abscence had/have such a huge impact on you Jac: we both know why though so Jude: yeah Jac: it's different now Jude: good Jac: alright then Jude: give my love to Savannah, I know she'll have missed me Jude: that's the impact I have Jac: 👌👌 Jude: 😝 Jac: Do you really have a problem with Savannah? Jude: course not, I told you I think she's alright, it's just bants Jude: why does she have a problem with me? Jac: yeah, it's a massive grudge she took all the way to Sligo and back Jac: 🙄 Jude: you know what I mean Jude: has she said that I come across as a massive dickhead too or something? Jude: I don't wanna upset her, like Jac: you haven't come up a load in conversation, like Jac: oddly enough Jac: it's that Jac: she's like my girlfriend alright so you can't be a dick about her anymore, alright Jude: alright then Jac: is that all you're gonna say Jude: I won't take the piss out of her no more, like I said, I didn't mean it anyways Jac: you can react, you know Jac: it's big news on multiple counts Jude: it makes sense Jude: I get it now, why you were like that after she left Jac: Good Jac: I want you to know that Jac: don't change how it was, but still Jude: you could've just told me you rated her 10/10 Jude: is that why she left? like her family always seemed a bit off but I didn't think they were that bad Jac: I couldn't, though Jac: no, her mum wasn't coping Jac: as we all know now, and then the Isabelle stuff went down, so their dad stepped in Jude: yeah, but I mean, that's not part of why she slit her wrists, is it? Cos Sav doesn't need that to carry Jac: it was because the dad left and then took them, to put it as bluntly and without nuance as possible Jac: but that's all on him, not the girls, her mum isn't like blaming them, their relationship is getting better Jude: at least she was alright with you too dating then, nobody needs that dark ages mentality shit Jude: she's got enough going on Jac: well, she doesn't know about that yet Jude: but you were together back then, yeah? Jac: no, it's a new development Jac: as in, like, the other night new, no one really knows, I barely do Jac: things were complicated before Jude: oh okay, soz for backtracking so hard, I just thought Jac: yeah, that was the problem Jac: shit was assumed or it wasn't Jude: what a headfuck Jude: you're okay now though, right? Like the other night went alright Jac: I guess for context, before she left, I did kiss her and it went horribly Jac: I loved her then but she didn't and then she was gone Jac: I see how it sounded like pining there but no Jac: it's good now though, things have changed, we both have Jude: I knew something happened that night when you came back early, you were like a 👻 or like you'd seen one Jac: Yeah, that was what it was Jude: it won't happen again if things are different so Jac: not as bad Jude: I'm glad Jude: that this is the ending you get, cos it's not one, it's more like a beginning or whatever Jude: you don't have to be just excited for uni Jac: I know Jac: not that there's anything wrong with just being excited for Uni, tah very much Jac: whatever happens, I think we'll be able to stay friends this time so Jude: or you'll just marry her & have all the kids she obviously wants Jac: let's not get carried away, shall we Jude: 1. you never said I couldn't have bants with you still Jude: 2. there's nowt I don't know about her life plan, she talks LOADS Jac: You only have a problem with that because you want to be the one talking Jude: course I do Jac: it cannot be overstated how much I'd rather listen to her, is the point ❤ Jude: it'd be a bit rude if you were already like nah tah 🤐 it, babe Jude: probably don't do that Jac: That's your top tip and people really think you're not a virgin? Jac: Interesting Jude: it don't work out well for the lads who TRY it with me 😏 Jude: people reckon I'm not cos I'm that 🥇 yeah Jude: & cos lads have loads to say for themselves, most of which is bollocks Jude: but you're not a sounding board for my whinging, I remember Jac: 'Bants', dear sister, 'bants' Jude: 👍 Jac: anyway, I've got to go Jac: there's this variety show that is apparently hilarious, either actually or in how bad it is so Jude: & I've got loads of 📝📚📖📏📐to do if I'm gonna have my own freshers Jude: top quality entertainment like that, literally how could I not? Jac: sure you'll want to be in it yourself 😏 Jude: you're correct Jude: 👋 then

[imaginesmai]

Ubbe-25th of December (2)

Plot: while you wait for him, Ubbe is having troubles to fulfill his promise

First part can be found here

Thanks again to @worldisadirtyplace for the moodboard! 

The wall behind Ubbe’s back trembled again, and he was nearly pushed forwards. He had to stop the fall with the hand that wasn’t holding the gun, his head throbbing again from the impact. It had been the third grenade that the rebels, or whoever was trying to kill them from the other side of the city, threw their way. From the ceiling, small pieces of stone and dust fell and covered the people who was hiding in that place.

A small cry sounded somewhere near him, the little girl who had been playing with a ball not so long ago then hidden between her mother’s arms. She had been holding her two parents arms in the beginning, but her father was lying in a pool of his blood a few meters away.  

Ubbe felt a huge pang of guilt and pain on his chest, different from the one on his leg were he had been shot two days before. Those people were innocent, farmers and merchants who earned their money by the legal way, that had decided to help four helpless and hurt soldiers that had been wandering around their city.

“We’re fucked, man” Dave complained, almost on the verge of tears. “Fuck, Ubbe, there’s no way out.”

The young man was hiding under a desk. When the real danger appeared, he had been the first one to disappear; among the children and the elders, he had tried to leave the city. Sadly that plan hadn’t been successful and they were all trapped together.

“Do you smell that?” Heahmund, an older soldier, growled. “That’s fucking disgusting, boy. Did you piss on your pants already? That’s what you’re taught in the military nowadays?”

Ubbe didn’t like Heahmund, but he knew he was right. For a nearly forty-five years old man, he still worked like a bull; strong, aggressive and smart. His missing leg wasn’t an impediment, he showed it when Ubbe and Dave found him a weak ago in the middle of nowhere. He had a strong bond with his God, and killed everyone in his name. The woman who he had come with, a short brunette called Astrid, told them that he had seen what no one else had.

It wasn’t enough reason to scare or mock Dave.

“Leave him alone, H” Astrid beat Ubbe, rolling her blue eyes. She counted two seconds and peeked through the window, shooting three times. “Not everyone is as grumpy as you.”

“What have you seen?” Ubbe asked and stopped Heahmund complains. “They’re still there?”

“Will be for a while” she scoffed. “There are two armoured vans, and maybe ten shooters.”

No one said anything after that, not even Dave who probably had already peed all over himself. The villagers looked between the soldiers and tried to get a solution; it was hard to do so, because from the moment those trucks appeared breaking the dawn their destiny was already decided.

“We could try to run” Dave talked again. “If we’re quiet enough-“

“If you say one more word, boy, you’re gonna suck my balls” Heahmund spoke through gritted teeth.

Another bullet hit the wall where Ubbe was hiding, making it more and more instable. It was a matter of time before one of them broke that thing, and if he didn’t find a solution soon, those bullets would be hitting his chest instead of the wall. Whether it was running away or facing them, he didn’t care. Ubbe just wanted to see your face again.

The small village where they were trapped gave him some ironic peace; an open field that had been at some point a cute small hamlet, but that because of the war had been neglected. It could had been the perfect getaway for a weekend, if it was not infested with guns and dead bodies. He tried to copy Astrid’s move and see what was the situation.

“There must be a way out” Ubbe mumbled, moving back to his original position in a second and avoiding a bullet penetrating his brain.

“What have you seen?” Heahmund asked that time, recharging his assault rifle.

“Ten men, or more, as she has said. Not sure” he explained as he put another cartridge in his rifle. “They’re hiding behind the armoured, and I don’t think they’re running low any time soon. Beside the thousands of caps on the floor, there are lots of them full of bullets.”

“It’s not an unplanned attack” Heahmund said. “Those fuckers knew where were we.”

Ubbe looked down to their bullet’s backup, which was only two more cartridge and a small hunting knife. He sighed and cracked his neck. There had to be a way to come out alive, he had been through worse. Your face and smile appeared in his eyes when he closed them, and he was almost tempted to give himself away to the dream. That way, he would feel again your arms, your warmth and your love. More than a year without it was driving him insane, a pain worse than any other wound.

“Maybe if we go out-“

“If they wanted to give us a chance, they would have done it at the beginning” Astrid stopped to fire again, only three shots before she had to take cover again. “They’re not going to stop until this shit comes down. And then, they’re going to shoot us until we’re nothing more than holes and blood.”

“Positive speech is not one of you qualities, right?” Dave scoffed.

She turned quickly and tried to shoot again; yet was received with a dry sound. Her rifle was out, just like the two guns that laid on the floor without any bullet.

There were a few seconds of relative silence. Relative because it was impossible to hear your own breathing between the guns, but for them the world stopped around the two left cartridges. Ubbe would never know what Dave thought in that moment, if Heahmund gave up or the rush of emotions in the villagers’ hearts. Because he was far away.

The green and black jacket that he had been wearing in the car felt then like the most uncomfortable thing in the world. Its shoulders were too tight, he couldn’t open his arms correctly and Ubbe felt as if his armpits were going to explode. Probably the fight he had had with his brothers in the car didn’t help his current situation, or the quick adventure he had decided to have with you in the bathroom exactly fifteen minutes ago.

Truth was the suit was making him claustrophobic, and that he couldn’t wait to get into the airplane and get the damned jacket out.

“I can’t believe we did that” Ubbe turned to look at you. “You’re such a bad influence, Lothbrok!”

If there was a reason why he was still in the boarding gate and not inside the comfy plane, it was you. You appeared behind him, trying to tame your wild hair into a ponytail while straightening your clothes. Not that anyone would have noticed, since it was an airport and Ubbe was sure worse thing had happened in that bathroom.

“Should have thought about it before, doll” he laughed loudly and helped you to finish your ponytail. “I don’t remember your doubts when I suggested it.”

“That’s your fault too” you smiled. “I can’t say no to you when you’re wearing that uniform. I mean, if I could I would tie you and keep you forever”

“I’m not against the tying part, just saying” Ubbe pecked your lips. “But I’m already running late, and I don’t want to hear the boys mocking me for the rest of the flight.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t dare” you teased. “Aren’t you the first sergeant?”

You could have sworn that, each time you said it, Ubbe’s chest puffed out and his eyes got brighter. The last time he came home to you he appeared with the new clothes and the biggest smile you had ever seen. Since that moment and for the following three months he had been with you, Ubbe hadn’t stopped telling you about his new position.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to boss them around” Ubbe smirked. “They-“

“You’re not going to be too hard on them, right? You can’t even tell Ivar’s cat to stay out of our sofa.”

“Puppies and kittens are on a different league. I can’t say no to anything he wants. If he wanted my bed, I would give it to him.”

“I might take that offer and marry him instead. I think the cat will be less hairy that you” you laughed, remembering the bathroom every time Ubbe had a shower. “And here I thought that the army didn’t allow long hair.”

“As a sergeant, I’m-“

“Flight 239, destiny Iran. Take-off in five minutes.”

The mechanic voice that you hated so much interrupted you. Some of the soldiers that were around you walked towards the gate; still, others hugged their loved ones and stayed a little longer.

Ubbe had joined the army in his 20th, and you had learned to enjoy every second life gave you with him. He could be gone for a month and stay home for two, or be gone for three and stay home one week. Beside all of that, you had built a strong relationship that not even the biggest distance could tear apart. It didn’t mean it was any easier to let him go.

You stepped closer and put your arms around his middle, fisting his jacket. The fabric felt weird and you were sticking every stupid pin and button on his front. As usual, the tears filled your eyes before he had even left.

He hugged you back and placed his head on your shoulder. Around you the world seemed to vanish, and you enjoyed the last seconds you would have together until only God knew when.

“I should get going” he whispered, yet he didn’t move. “And you too. Hvitserk is along with Ivar and Sigurd in the car, that’s dangerous.”

“Yeah” you mumbled. Looking up, you met his eyes and blinked to keep the tears away for a while. “Promise me you’ll be careful. You’re now a sergeant, you don’t need to be in the middle of every fight.”

“You know I can’t promise that” he sighed. “We’ve talked about this. If I want to be respected, I have to be there. I-“

“What you have to do is to come home safe, right?” you said. “You’ve never been in Iran, it’s a dangerous place.”

“I promise I’ll take care” he smiled softly. “And I’ll be back the 25th of December. As long as you promise to skip the vegetables in the come-back-home dinner.”

“I have to keep you healthy! One day you’re going to come home with a beer belly and a huge jowl. You all eat like pigs.”

“Thank god I have you then” Ubbe laughed.

He pressed his lips against yours one last time, moving them slowly and trying to print your kisses in the back of his mind. For those cold nights where the only hope he would have was the memory of you, and the promise of coming back.

The kiss lasted a few seconds more, and you were reluctant of tearing apart.

“Flight 239, destiny Iran. Last call to all the passengers. Take-off in two minutes.”

“I promise you will have the best dinner waiting for you” you smiled sadly. “And this time Hvitserk won’t eat it before you arrive.”

Ubbe laughed, remembering the time where Hvitserk ate all the food behind your back and you almost had a heart attack when you found out. You two ended up ordering pizza and watching a film, cuddling in the couch and enjoying each other company.

“Whatever it is, I only want to see you again” he said. “I already miss you.”

“Don’t say that” you voice shook, the sobs you were hiding fighting for going out. “I love you to the moon and back, Ubbe”

“And I love you to the stars and back, doll” he pecked your lips one last time and gave you a strong hug before tearing apart completely. He was the last soldier in the boarding gate, so he ran behind Alfred who had been with his grandfather. “Do not let my brother’s kill each other, Y/N! I’ll be back before you know it!”

Ubbe felt the tears pricking at his. It seemed that ages had passed since he saw you for the last time. And as always, you had been right.

Iran had been not only dangerous, but lethal. The rebels had almost all the county controlled, it was full of deadly traps where a lot of his mates had died. In the first four months, almost half of his troop was dead, and by the half of the year he had a feeling deep in his chest that things were not going any better.

He had lied in the letters, because worrying you with facts was pointless. When the people who were above him in range cut the communication and left them to die, he lied. When the food disappeared and the water was short, he just told you that he hated soup he was receiving. When his camp was destroyed and he was saved just because he was out looking for food, he lied. And when the opportunity of talking to you was almost invisible, he decided to let you know something.

That things were hard, that he was coming back home and that he was looking for a way back. Because he didn’t bear the thought of giving you more pain than necessary. The only certain truth was that he was coming back home. He was sure of it when he had to travel two days without supplies through the dessert. He was sure of it when he was shot in the leg and had to be dragged to the nearest village, which turned out to be a trap. And he was sure of it despite the pain of his wound, that was probably infected and oozing blood.

Ubbe was going to do it because he loved you, and because he made you a promise of coming back the 25th of December. Between the shouts of Dave, the constant shakes of Heahmund and the numbing pain, he blacked out.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[methoxyethane]

Princess For A Day

This was stupid. Everything about this was stupid. Why did he ever listen to Lance? About anything, in their whole lives, ever? Everything this man said was ridiculous. Keith didn’t even know if he’d won or lost their bet, considering the bizarre rules they’d set for the competition.

Keith and Hunk’s team had one but only by two points. And that meant, but the rules they had agreed upon, Lance had to spend an entire day doing whatever Keith said with no complaints… but Keith had to be wearing a dress the entire time, no matter what.

Yep. Keith had won but not by enough, and so now he got to be princess for a day. Even got a fancy red dress and matching jewels Allura picked out just for him. And the… the heels. He was wearing little ruby slippers. Because he was a princess.

“Oh my god,” Lance laughed, eyeing Keith up down and all around in his silken attire. “You look amazing, this was either the best idea I’ve ever had or the absolute worst! Either way I cannot wait.”

Keith’s glare could have melted steel. “Hold still so I can kick you.”

Lance darted a quick glance down to Keith’s heels, barely visible under the hem of his poofy red Altean Royal Prom Dress. “Uh. Is that a figure of speech, or a literal order?”

Keith blinked, having not actually considered that. “Literal,” he decided, hiking up his skirts with one hand to give himself room for a good wind-up.

He didn’t kick Lance very hard, because that would be meaner than it would be funny; just one good high-heeled jab to hear the sound of his yelp. Oh yeah, Keith decided with a wicked smirk as Lance hopped and clutched at his now-painful shin. He might just have fun today after all.

The thing was, Keith had never had siblings or playmates, so the idea of winning a bet and gaining a slave for a day was something that had never come up during his otherwise eventful childhood. So…. he didn’t know what to do with his own personal Lance For A Day. He knew theoretically he was supposed to be mean, but uh… Yeah. The first thing he ordered Lance to do beside that kicking thing was just to help Keith do his laundry. Exciting, right?

Okay, so Keith sucked. But what was he gonna do here, order Lance to make out with him? Yeah it sounded fun for a while but ultimately how awkward would that get the next day when he couldn’t order Lance to kiss him anymore? Weird, is what it would be. Weird and terrible and stupid. Keith was gonna stick to laundry.

“You’re boring me,” Lance declared after an hour, knotting off and dropping to the floor the leather jacket he had been sewing fixed. Sewing unprompted, might Keith mention - he had only asked if Lance knew how to get that motor oil stain out of the sleeve and Lance had magic’d up a needle and thread to fix a tear in the inner lining all of his own. “This is so BORING, you don’t know how to play princess at all! My sisters are way better at this game than you, I can’t believe how boring this is.”

Playing princess? Was this a bet Lance had a tendency to make and then lose OFTEN? Shouldn’t that dumb bastard have known better by now? Or had he just figured there was no way Keith could ever be as mean with it as his teenage sisters - okay yeah never mind hearing that Keith was pretty sure it was the answer, actually.

“Why,” Keith asked, flipping his voluminous skirts around him on the bed to better settle into some kind of comfortable position. “If you had won the bet, what kind of shit were you gonna order me to do?”

Lance hummed, eyes pointed up to the ceiling as he considered the question. “You know, normal stuff? Make you eat gross space food and follow me around carrying my things for my like a valet. I had this whole list made up of ways to embarrass you, but now I know how boring you are when you’re Royalty they just seem mean and petty. You took the fun out of being petty with your bore-ass, Keith.”

Boring? Did Lance want Keith to be mean and humiliate him, then? Well, no, probably not, but Keith could see how this would be a disappointment on Lance’s end. He couldn’t even make a good story out of it for later, with Keith going easy on him like this.

Oh, and wasn’t that a sad thought. What good was today if they couldn’t t least make a fun story out of it? Alright, then. Keith could do this. Today, Keith would be The Princess. Not for Lance, and not for himself, but for Shiro and Allura when they came back from that diplomatic conference they were stuck in for two days and got to hear every moronic detail of what he and Lance were gonna get up to.

“Fine,” Keith practically spat, voice sharp with determination. “But remember you asked for it. I was gonna go easy on you today, Lance.”

Lance’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Probably realizing what a stupid thing he had just done by provoking Keith, judging by the look on his face.

“I order…” Keith started instinctively, before realizing he had no idea what to make Lance do. Shit, humiliating, mean, princess, he was the Princess… The first thought that came to mind was to make Lance kiss his shoe, that seemed really princess-like, but. Yeah that was also weird as hell, and probably too humiliating for both of them and not just Lance. Quick, it’s been too long since you started, say something!

“I order you to kiss my hand, peasant.” Keith settled on, holding out his wrist in an intentionally limp and pompous gesture. Fortunately, Lance’s reaction was a burst of confused laughter, one eyebrow raised indulgently as he leaned forward and took Keith’s maidenly hand in his own.

He pressed his lips against the worn knuckle of Keith’s left hand, blue eyes boring straight up into Keith’s. “As you wish, my Princess.”

Keith felt his face heat up in the blush instantly.

Oh, fuck. He was gonna have to watch what he said today, or it was Keith who was going to end up with ten embarrassing stories about him before tomorrow, and not Lance.

<3<3

Opting to play it safe, the next order Keith had was more for himself than anything else. He wanted to work off some stress and in his opinion Lance never spent enough time on the training deck, so this seemed like two birds with one stone.

Granted, he’d never tried running around with a sword while wearing a dress, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the impediment. He’d figure something out, after all.

So he set the droids on a co-op training mission, low level since Keith was in a ball gown and Lance didn’t practice as much as Keith did. They still made a good team even for all they argued, and once Keith got used to the limitations of his skirt and Lance got properly warmed up they kind of started kicking ass.

And maybe this was a little indulgent for another reason, as well. See now, Lance was a handsome young man as far as Keith was concerned, and as it happened Lance happened to look even more handsome when he was serious. He got this specific look in his eye in battle, this sharp Sniper’s Glare when something had his complete focus that was just… unf. Keith was a fan. And here side by side in a co-op battle? He had all the time in the world between sword strokes to appreciate the sight.

He also noticed of course that today Lance was staring at him an awful lot as well, but. It was hard not to be distracted by the swishing of his wine-red skirts while he jump-kicked android’s heads off. It was a pretty flashy sight.

When the battle wrapped up and they were both tired and sore, they broke for showers. It felt nice to get out of that awful dress and under the hot water for a few minutes, not even realizing how heavy the huge gown was until he’d gotten it off.

And then he was done showering and had to put it back on again, which, crap. At least this time there was someone nearby to ask for help with his zipper. His shoulder was too sore to reach all the way back there by himself right now.

“Lance,” he called over to the next room, where he knew the blue paladin was getting dressed himself. Come over here and help me with this dress.”

He didn’t realize that by giving him an order Lance would show up immediately, coming over only half-dressed and holding his own clothes to put on on the way. Which meant Keith got to see him in just his jeans, padding over on bare feet and slinging his shirt on as he walked over with an open expression. “What’s up?”

Keith showed him his back, moving his hair aside out of instinct even though it wasn’t long enough to impede the low-jacked zipper of his dress. Lance paused when he got up to Keith, one hand hovering in the air above the zipper as he hesitated.

“Lance?” he called back curiously over his shoulder, holding up the two halves of the top of his dress. “Zip me up.”

When Lance fingers touched the zipper at the bottom of Keith’s back was about the time Keith realized how very naked he felt without the dress all the way on. Like literally, Lance was literally staring down at Keith’s naked back, and he felt his face and neck heat up in a flush that only got worse when he realized there was no way Lance couldn’t see it.

Lance’s fingers brushed against the skin of his back as he grabbed the zipper, and Keith unconsciously held his breath as Lance gently tugged it up to close his dress with a quiet rustle of fabric shifting. “Gotcha,” Lance said in a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper. “All, uh… All dressed.”

“Thanks.” Embarrassed, Keith let himself rub at his sore left shoulder, not sure what to say next.

Lance decided for him, asking “Does that hurt?” And reaching out to poke at the muscle Keith had been trying to loosen.

“Mm-hm,” Keith confirmed with an absent nod, still not having turned around to face Lance until he was sure his face had cooled down.

Lance made a considering type of sound behind him, a long hum that changed pitch about three times as it dragged on. “Okay,” Lance eventually said with finality, and Keith turned around to look just in time to see him grin. “I have an idea. Since you have no idea how to be a princess, I shall take it upon myself to treat you like one.”

Keith blinked. “Huh?”

“Just for today,” Lance said, “I’m gonna pamper you like you’ve never been pampered before. Spoil you like no one has ever spoiled your sad butt in your life. Probably literally, there’s no way those hands have seen a manicure before.”

“Manicure?” Keith asked dubiously as Lance led him out of the locker rooms with one hand on his bare shoulder. “How does cutting my nails count as spoiling me?”

“Oh honey,” Lance sighed pitifully, shaking his head. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

[kayistiredt]

Here’s something I wrote about my roommates

"Hey, can everyone NOT leave a bunch of fucking dishes and food out in the open? So we won't get ran out of our own house by a bunch of fucking gnats? Is that possible for everybody? Can we all agree we don't like gnats?" I'm standing in the middle of the living room. Shouting all of this. It's a bright day. Maybe people look down on those of us who wake up a few hours past noon, but at least we wake up just in time to enjoy the day and the sunset. That's not bad. I know everyone who lives in this house is home. I continue to shout, "I think we all don't like gnats all over everything so from now on, lets do better."

 There's more authority in my voice than anger. I'm commanding. This isn't really up for debate. I'm not even sure what the debate could be. For gnats? For not cleaning? I can understand within your own personal room, hell there's garbage bags in my room that have collected colonies of gnats of their own. But Jesus, how can you stand it? They're just buzzing around, on any and everything. You can't look anywhere without seeing not just one, but two or three. How could you possibly look at the sad pile of a rag on the counter, holding God knows how many and just ignore it? I can't. I'm sick of ignoring. Of not speaking out for things that make my skin crawl. I'm coming into the realization that I just may be more powerful than swallowing my disgust. I walk around the corner to Genesis' room and bang on the door. Her six-foot-something dreadhead boyfriend could answer the door and I anticipate that, squaring my shoulders and clenching my jaw. I need to see the child in him. I need to see through him to the child in him and scare that child. That's how you intimidate a six-foot-something boyfriend. Easier said than done, but I'm powerful enough. I realize that now.

He swings open the door and I meet his eyes immediately. "I'm going to clean the kitchen. I need these bags on the porch out of here. Call up who you gotta call up, do what you gotta do. I need that shit gone. Asap." He's stunned, I think. I don't give him time to respond and turn around in the tight hallway to round the corner into the kitchen. I suppose I'm taking a pretty big risk. This man has a shotgun or rifle or something in the room, I've seen that. There's also a machete that I'm not sure is real or fake. I know they get up to some fraud activities but I don't know how much violence they get up to. My hands should be shaking but they're steady. I'm grounded. My guides love to see me in my power so why wouldn't they assist me as I stand up for my space? It's actually our space. You would think I would be appreciated for putting my foot down and insist that we all take care of it. In any case, it doesn't matter if they appreciate this move or not. I’m in control. I've had enough of feeling uncomfortable in a space I used to claim as my own. 

Sure, I'm leaving soon. I've resolved myself to that fact. I'm leaving. I'm getting out of here and although I cherish and value this space for all that it's given me, it's time to let it go. So that said, should I really make such a big fuss over all of this? 

"You fucking tripping," he says. High pitched in disbelief. I take a deep breath and call on the most powerful, intimidating spirit that wants to see me do well in life. I feel the power surge from the ground up. My footsteps sound like thunder as I step back around the corner. I feel taller than the man in front of me as I say: "I want the patio cleared. I want the trash gone." His eyes widen and he doesn't seem to be looking at me but something taller than me, which feels incredible. "If y'all had just taken the trash out instead of piling it up out there in the first place, I wouldn't have to do all this." I take a few steps back and turn around the corner to open the glass doors to the back patio. "Let's go!" I say, in a voice that doesn't sound like mine. A sound that booms out of my chest and seems to make the floor vibrate. He walks quickly around the corner, stepping outside in his socks to start putting garbage bags in the cardboard box that managed to make its way out there.

I know where it came from and decide that since I haven't felt the power drain out of me yet, I'd tick something else off my to-do list. I trust in whatever entity is currently with me to pull the reigns if I get carried away. I bang on Cynthia's door twice. She opens swiftly. Most likely standing nearby and fiddling nervously as she listened in, knowing that she dropped off a giant cardboard box and a few garbage bags of her own at the make-shift landfill just yesterday. According to her, her ankles are weak due to a disability, so maybe she just couldn’t find it in herself to do more than walk the four or five steps from her room to the back patio door. However, since I’ve seen her walk to the front door, which is a considerably longer distance, I’ll call bullshit on this behavior. Darion, the boyfriend, knows all of this too, but he's too scared and confused to argue and continues to work with his head down.

It feels like my energy is spreading through the room. In my mind I can see the tendrils of powerful energy spreading across the walls and floors. Maybe it'll even reach the second floor and my neighbors will stop throwing themselves around like test dummies. 

Cynthia opens the door and the sight of her brings a reaction so visceral out of me I have to keep myself from lunging at her. She's trembling. Good. I want to scare her. I want to repel her. I want her energy as far away from me as possible. Whoever this spirit is agrees. The way she attempts to befriend me after having threatened to get me arrested and sued is irritating to me. No apology. Just trying to skip right to the part where we’re good roommate-buddies. I resent her for even thinking that’s a possibility. 

She brings out the shadowiest tendencies from me. I've had dreams that I've screamed at her. Threatened her. I was hostile. I kicked her. I'm practically a bully. Yet, I can't help but feel it's warranted. Not just because of what she did to me, but the way she was so sure in what she was doing. I don’t trust her whatsoever. But, I do hold a certain empathy for her. I don't know what the rest of her life holds but it feels bleak. It feels full of disadvantage. Strife. You could understand why I'd want to keep that away from me. The fact that she tries so hard to impose or connect herself to me just feels like confirmation. My energy is probably very tempting for her. Maybe she brings out the dark sides of me ego as well.

"Stop putting your trash on the patio. Put it outside the front door." My voice is level but strong. Again, leaving no room for argument.

"Okay. I will do that," She says. The way she speaks sounds stunted. If you heard her speak, you would think she definitely had some kind of developmental disability. She has that kind of speech impediment that makes her R's sound like W's. Together, she sounds like someone that most people would assume couldn't match them intellectually. But I give her more credit than that. I'm sure there's certain things she can't control. She's middle-aged. There's things she's grown into that'll be hard to break. But I know that she has more critical thinking skills than people think. 

I nod my acceptance of her answer. She nods in return and takes a meek step back to close her door but I step forward and push it back open. "I want you to hear this." I step back. "If y'all see the trash can empty and there's no trash bags in sight, just use one of the trillion plastic bags in the laundry room." I could say more about how there's no reason to put trash in an empty can with no liner. That it just makes life difficult in the long run. About how idiotic it is to throw trash in an empty can when there's plenty of bags that will hold trash. But this energy doesn't need to be elaborated on. I don't need to hear an answer of compliance. I know they'll listen. They watch as I walk around the room, spreading my energy around to every corner. Claiming the space. Reclaiming it, rather. I walk back to the kitchen entrance. Genesis is standing in her doorway. Eyes wide. I feel bad for her in a way. I'm not sure what her own personal aspirations are but I'm sure this can't be it. I relate.  "I need to borrow the car to make a copy of the mail key." I push my energy onto her and stare through her to the little girl cowering in fear. The energy softens. "I need to have a mail key to turn in when I move out." For some reason, the mail box locks got changed. My key hasn’t worked for months. I don’t expect mail often anyway. She nods and turns back to get the keys. I make a mental list of other errands I need to run while I have a set of wheels. 

While I wait for her, I turn to the kitchen and get to work, spraying every non-edible surface down with bug-spray first and foremost to kill all the gnats that have settled on the various surfaces. It was all getting cleaned anyway. She comes back and puts the keys on the counter then pauses. I notice and straighten up. The spirit I called hasn't left yet. I wonder to myself if maybe this was a permanent fusion but get reassured otherwise by a thought that doesn't seem to come from me. "Listen, we're sorry we let it get out of hand," She says, smile easy-going. A tone I had heard before. I wasn't in the mood to put on the act of tolerance. 

"You should be. Y'all spend the most time out here. But I wasn't exactly sparkling clean when you moved in so there's only so much to say." I must have surprised her face into a non-reaction, like she was browsing for the appropriate reaction and parked her face in Neutral. "And just so we're all on the same page," I said as Darrion passed by the both of us, I'm assuming on his way to put on shoes, "I realize y'all still haven't paid me back for my Playstation. I'm telling you right now, if you move out of this apartment without paying me what you owe, you'll never make anything of yourselves for the rest of this lifetime. And you'll have to work damn hard to do something with yourselves in the next life." 

I felt the universe confirm what I said. I felt in my gut that they believed me. Whether they were willing to admit that or not was none of my concern. "Trash can needs a liner. I'm cleaning out the fridge when I get back." I take the keys and walk to my room. I still need to get dressed. I close the door behind me and take a breath. This would normally be the time a person would collapse after such a long display of power. But I feel clearheaded. All of this is for nothing if I crumble behind closed doors. I glance at myself in the mirror hanging from my door. No visible changes. I just feel different. Interesting. 

When I step out again, ready to brave the outside world, I notice the quiet that still lingers even through the rustle of the trash bags Darion is gathering and the water running in the kitchen as Genesis rinses dishes and loads the dishwasher. "I'm not mad. Just so y'all know. I'm just tired of looking at trash and battling gnats in the kitchen. Somebody had to do something." They nod like reprimanded children. Hopefully this part will ease the fear I struck in their hearts earlier. I don't want to traumatize people. They just needed to be scared into some discipline. "Wait," Darrion calls out as I open the front door, "I need the car to run the trash." The spirit spun me around faster than I could think. "No. You don't," I said lowly. Energy flaring out of me in what felt like a bright flash. The man took a step back. Thoroughly intimidated. I may have been imagining it, but I could've sworn I heard confused thoughts as to why he was so afraid. I spun back to the door and walked out of it. It may have been petty to make him walk the trash to the dumpster. Chalk it up to character building. I had errands to run.

[diego-hargreeve2]

light in the dark

Part Twenty

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Netflix)

Ship: Diego Hargreeves x Original Character

Warnings: Language, abuse (emotional and physical), mental illness, violence and, in later chapters, smut.

Chapter Specific Author Note: I’m not an expert on stuttering and I’ve never had this specific speech impediment. I have done some reading and sought to portray this in a way which is accurate and sensitive. If you have thoughts, pointers or issues to flag up to me, feel free to drop me a message so I can improve.  

He knew she wasn’t at the shelter – but where she was left Diego at a loss. His first thought was the gym, and he’d headed home but there was no sign of her. The moment he was sure he was back in the car, driving along the streets where he’d found her before, the diner they went the first night they met, before returning to the shelter. Kyle just shook his head at the question, and Diego was back out the door immediately to return to his car and driving aimlessly.

His fingers flexed on the wheel, itching to hold a knife even though his worry wasn’t an enemy he could hope to defeat with a blade. It was more a tick, a tool to comfort himself, and Diego didn’t know a better way to deal with the level of emotion that raged inside him. The longer he drove, the more streets he crawled down at the lowest speed the car could manage, the engine growling in protest, the more panicked he grew.

It was a circuit he ended up making – the shelter, the gym, the street where they met, and repeat. Without family and friends, without a job, without ties…Diego had no other ideas and the dawn light was lifting the darkness of the night when he pulled up outside the gym and checked for what felt like the hundredth time. Still no Evie.

Sliding back into the driver’s seat he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, all that worry over her turning into anger as he punched the car, a frustrated primal scream escaping him. Diego was exhausted, and out of ideas.

Where would she go?

No back to Idaho. But that did remind him of the journey she’d made across the states. Catching lights on highways, and begging money for…train tickets.

He fired the engine back up with a roar as a new thought occurred to him.

Evie was sat outside the bus station, crossed legged. Her head hunched forward, a hood pulled up, the fabric and her hair masking her face more effectively than the disguise Diego adopted of a night, and yet he knew her at once. She had slid her hands into the opposite sleeves, wore her backpack despite the fact she had sat down, and there was a scuffed paper cup sat in front of her.

Diego yanked the handbrake, heedless of the needs of the car he was normally so protective over, and was out the door in a moment to crouch on the ground before her.

“Shit Evie, you had me scared. Are you okay?” he said, both hands reaching to cup her elbows but she shifted away, turning her head to avoid his gaze. This was hard enough for her right now - in her mind, even sure it was Patch he wanted, Diego was who she wanted. It was the worst heartache she had felt in her life - to be so in need of comfort and having the person you’d most seek that from in front of you and yet to not take that, to hold back, to try and save yourself further pain and maintain some dignity.

“Angel, c’mon. I’ve been out my head with worry, looking for you for hours. Talk to me”. The frustration was gone, all he had was relief that at least he found her and fear she wouldn’t let him explain, wouldn’t even listen.

For a long moment there was silence, nothing comfortable like the quiet that usually settled between them, but taut and crackling with emotion neither one of them could voice.

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me? Why’d you run off?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you used to date Patch?” Eve responded, turning her face and now he could see her cheeks, streaked with tears, her lashes which had dried into salty spikes, and her lower lip, bleeding and marked with teeth marks, the skin torn and worried at.

“Because it didn’t fucking matter anymore” he insisted, vehemence lending his voice more violence then he intended. “It was years ago”.

Eve shook her head, unable to meet his gaze, her mouth quivering. She had thought she was done with crying, but more tears threatened to fall as she was faced with the reality of him.

“No? Evie – it’s the past”.

“But you didn’t-”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I figured you’d prefer not to know”.

“Not to know that you’re in love with her…yeah…I’d have preferred not to know that” she admitted, with a bitter smile devoid of happiness.

“Wuh-wuh-wuh-” His old stutter returned, and his cheeks flushed beneath the stubble at the frustration. He hated the way his tongue betrayed him at the worst time. Grace always told him to slow down, to picture the word in his mind, but at times like this the concept of having to think before he spoke when emotions were running so high felt like the worst curse he could be saddled with. The more he tried to reach for the word the further away it seemed to be, the harder he tried the more impossible the task became.

It got her attention more effectively than any articulate word could have. Last time she heard him stumble like that it had been when he saw her scars.

Hurt as she was, the frustration on his face as he fought with his tongue had her heart aching and she lifted a hand to touch his cheek despite herself.

“Diego…” Her fingers dropped away from his skin, yanking back as though he could burn her skin as she realised, she shouldn’t do that. Fast as her automatic reaction was his own reflexes were sharp, and he caught her wrist. 

“I don’t love her now” he insisted, giving up on the previous sentence, the vowel easier to manage and force out.

“You didn’t tell me-”

“To save you getting upset. I didn’t wuh-wuh-wuh…to save you feeling... ...feeling jealous. I thought you’d wuh-wuh-wuh...that you’d wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh - SHIT for fucks sake”. The curse exploded out of him with anger aimed at himself and the noise that tripped him up. He rose to his feet in one smooth motion, hardly aware he was doing it, both hands lifting to his head for a moment before one yanked out a knife. It was to secure himself, trying to find the easy fluidity with which he could throw the blades and transfer that to his mouth. It didn’t escape his notice though the way she flinched and, spinning the dagger between his fingers, he dropped to sit beside her and sought again to speak. 

“I thought you’d stress over it and you’d be stressing over nothing, so I didn’t tell you”. Stress wasn’t in truth the word he meant or wanted to use but it worked at least - the hiss had never been his downfall. 

Evie understood his decision for the word choice, even if she didn’t understand the sentiment or the decision 

“If there was nothing to hide...you’d have told me”.

He could understand that way of thinking; Diego always found it suspicious himself when people were invasive during his ‘interrogations’ - but this had been nothing like that, it had been intended to protect Evie.

“I just...” she swallowed, struggling in a way that was different to Diego’s difficulty in this conversation as she tried to find the courage to speak the thoughts in her mind. 

“I don’t...if you love her, why...I don’t understand why you...I’m not...” she pulled her knees up to her chest, her forehead dropping down to hide her face entirely between her hair, the hood and her kneecaps.

The urge to interrupt and correct her thinking was strong and Diego forced himself to resist as he fidgeted with the knife, twirling it around to diffuse the tension in his body. Few things aggravated him more than people jumping in and offering the words he was trying to say when he struggled, so he tried to avoid doing the same to Eve, to give her the space to get out what she wanted to say without him interrupting despite the fact there were so many things he wanted to say. 

Hidden away it was easier for her to complete a sentence, but her cheeks burned with shame even as she forced the words out. 

“I’ve never...I’m not somebody who...Why did you sleep with me if you love her?” Her voice breaking and full of tears.

If she had been somebody who slept around regularly maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. But Eve found it hard to open up, to reveal herself, and to have done so to somebody she thought understood that - and to have believe he cared...there was a pain behind her sternum and her stomach ached, her cheeks red hot and her mind eager to remind her that this was her own fault. 

She should’ve known nobody like Diego would want somebody like her - nobody would ever want her. She was a mistake and a disgrace with her mother’s blood on her hands. 

“I don’t love Eudora anymore” he insisted, shifting closer to her, the hand not fiddling with his knife trying to take find a way to touch her she’d accept; he avoided her hands and her back given the state she was in, sliding his fingers beneath her elbow, his thumb curling to hold onto her. 

She shook her head slightly, unable to believe him and Diego tightened his grip slightly. 

The fact she wouldn’t listen, and had clearly intended to flee the city, was causing his heart to thud. Stabbing the knife into the bench beside him he shifted to crouch before her again, strong hands reaching out to grab her ankles and pull her legs down so he could see her face.

She couldn’t leave. The idea of not having Evie was...his stomach twisted, his palms slick with sweat and his throat tightening. 

“Don’t go”, the word strangled between his dry mouth and constricted airways. 

“I have to - I can’t - I’m sorry. I should’ve known-” Her own tears cut her off, choking her. She should’ve known better, should never have let herself believe in something better, to have hope.

“You think nobody could care about you and you’re wrong. I do. And I never meant to worry you. Look at me Evie”. He lifted his hands to her face, fingers along her jaw so she couldn’t turn away, feeling the wetness of tears against his own damp skin. 

His eyes were full of tears she could see that much, and seeing Diego hurting felt like all the pain and nausea inside her twisting and getting worse as a sob caught in her throat. 

“I want you. Nobody else. Don’t leave me” he murmured. She had no words and he watched her, seeing the way she was struggling in herself. Moving he half stood, bracing himself with a knee on the bench beside her, as he leaned forward and captured her mouth in a kiss. Part of him expected - feared - that she’d resist, but as his mouth closed on hers - tasting salt and iron - she tilted her face upwards and kissed him back. Eve wished she could have had the strength in her heart but truthfully - she was desperate to keep him in her life. Hating herself she opened her mouth to him, sure of her own weakness and how pathetic she was, and knowing Patch was more worthy of him - she couldn’t blame him for preferring Eudora - and yet so alone and crazy for him specifically that she gave in anyway. 

Breaking away from her he stroked his fingers down her face, searching her eyes.

“Come home with me”.

She nodded, even as fresh tears welled up in her eyes and the self-loathing made her mouth taste of bile. Even to him her agreement didn’t feel like a victory, this wasn’t resolved. At this moment though getting her home was a start and, stepping back, one hand yanked the knife out the wood and the other reached for her, waiting as she shook her fingers and cooled them before sliding her hand into his. Pulling her upright Diego pressed a kiss to her temple before leading her to the car.

At least he’d found her.

sad times continued

@lovinglydiego @klausbutgayer @reblogserpent @me125 @fatbottomedcurls @mrsdiegohargreeves @carryon-doctor-lock @rhymesmenagerie  @eleventhdoctorsangel​

[robotslenderman]

Headcanon -- Psijic Days Shenanigans

From Vanus’ and Mannimarco’s days as Psijics and students, along with Rowan’s mother:

Eilonwy and Leythen were the “twins” (read: two years apart but that’s so damn rare in Altmer society people regarded them as twins) of a couple who owned a vineyard. The family is descended from some humans, hence the black hair, and has a tendency of getting really embarrassed and yeeting black haired offspring as far away from their vineyards as possible because oh god what if the neighbours find out. Getting two in a row was just humiliating and their mother practically begged Iachesis to take them off her hands. 

Ellacalion was all over them because “omg NEW FRIENDS” and he was basically the only kid on Artaeum before them.

So, the two grew up on Artaeum and always considered it home.

When Leythen was fifteen, Valsirenn returned from about twenty years of independent study and started teaching their class. Leythen had a huge crush at just about first sight and couldn’t talk to Valsirenn for years without stuttering.

Valsirenn was pretty concerned about Leythen’s speech impediment and ended up approaching Iachesis about it. Iachesis laughed so hard he cried.

Mannimarco and Vanus were always at each other’s throats. Eilonwy was the one who pointed out to Vanus that Mannimarco was flirting with him.

“You think he’s flirting with me?!”

“You think he antagonises everyone else as much as he does you?”

“Yes!”

“Well, he doesn’t!”

Eilonwy wasn’t a rebel, but she was an independent thinker and very eloquent about it, enough she had Mannimarco’s respect. Yeah, she thought his work was disgusting, but that was because she was more concerned about disease and so on, not because “omg evil”, which was enough Mannimarco was like “Yeah, okay, fair enough” and didn’t hate her guts for it.

Eilonwy’s way of discussing it wasn’t “yeah but what about DISEASE” but more “hey Mannimarco, look at this research on the links between the bodies piling up in sieges and the outbreaks of disease that occurred in the city afterwards due to bad disposal techniques.” Then the two of them would geek out about contagion control for a while. That’s why Mannimarco never hated her.

So, like, Ulliceta speaks as if she never met Mannimarco and Vanus even though she’s been on Artaeum long enough that she should have? Like, Esulo says that they left three hundred years ago, and Ulliceta said she’s been there three hundred and fifty. My headcanon is that she was baked out of her mind for a few decades and that’s why she can’t remember shit.

Esulo was totally an enabler.

Ulliceta and Esulo totally had their own corner of Artaeum just chock full of whatever the Tamrielic equivalent of weed is. Vanus liked to sneak down there and steal a bud or two every now and then. Eilonwy gave some to Leythen once, but he had a panic attack and hasn’t touched the stuff since.

When Leythen was about thirty Eilonwy was like, “you realise you and Valsirenn are both adults now, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Sooo... you can ask her out?”

“OMG. YES. I CAN. I COULD HYPOTHETICALLY DO THAT. HYPOTHETICALLY. ASK OUT THAT REALLY HOT INSTRUCTOR. WHO WILL PROBABLY REJECT ME. OMG”

“leythen. why.”

Cue Leythen spending five more years building up the courage to do it

when she said yes he full on stared at her and was speechless for about a minute because he really did not expect that.

He also absolutely did not expect how into him she was after that first date

basically their entire relationship up to Eldaawe’s death was mutual “wtf whY does this AWESOME PERSON like me so much????”

it was adorable

everyone thought it was adorable

(even Mannimarco thought it was adorable, although he’d sooner die than admit it)

Vanus and Mannimarco being found in compromising positions all over Artaeum. Vanus swears Mannimarco does it on purpose. Not that he minds, exactly...

"You made it sad!” headcanons:

The classmates Mannimarco killed were two idiots that Vanus hated, and Vanus feels guilty about their deaths to this day.

Eilonwy was disgusted with Mannimarco for killing and rezzing their classmates, but because Mannimarco didn’t talk to her between Vanus ratting him out and being expelled from the island, he had no idea and continued to hold her in positive regard.

He’d meet her again years later during his recovery from his captivity with Molag Bal, and she was Not Happy.

Eilonwy left long before Eldaawe was born, and never got to meet her niece. 

Neither did Rowan ever meet her cousin, or her uncle.

although Rowan would visit Artaeum later, and everyone’s attitude was “omg, Eilonwy’s kid! one of us!!!!”

They were pointedly less enthused about her being associated with Mannimarco, but semi not surprised, given how stubborn Eilonwy was about discovering things for herself.

[shadowgamerhalo]

Okie dokie gonna make a post on this. Might as well mention this cause I'm thinking about it.

I have a speech impediment. I don't exactly know why I have it. I don't have any problems with my vocal cords, mouth, or tongue. I have in my native tongue as much as I have it in learning other languages. I'm pretty sure my brain doesn't have damage or anything. I've had it since I was a kid, through my teen years, and it's still here in my adult years, I don't think it'll really change.

The kind I have generally effects th sounds making them sound like s, my s sounds tend to be long and often sounds like hisses, often I mispronounce words like specific becomes pacific, certain syllables like in sigyn I cannot say without stuttering or butchering the word, and it's a toss up on if I can actually pronouce my r correctly it depends on the word, like rural is hard as fuck to say with the r, ratchet isn't hard to say with my r. This worsens with brain fog, and it gets worse when I'm tired. And when it hits a certain point of tired all my words get smoshed together that hardly anyone can understand me. I will know what I said, nobody else will. It just comes out incoherent.

Often times am told to practice to get better at saying things, and also made fun of when inevitably I say something and it sounds off or like something that I didn't mean to say, either swearing, weird wording, or just the way I say a certain word in the sentence.

Some people note that when I mention having a speech impediment that it's barely noticeable. I've once actually told someone to their face the reason why is because I'm focused on sounding 'normal', if I wasn't so very afraid of being made fun of, it would be noticeable.

And I'm tired of it.

I just want to speak and be understood. Want to say the words the way I actually say them and not be made fun of for it. Do you know how exhausting it is to be talking about a serious thing and then it's undercut because apparently a word you said sounded 'funny' and thus they're giggling about it?

Like imagine I was talking about how my mother abused me, and then someone has the gall to go 'the way you say mother is so funny' like bitch, I was talking about abuse don't mention how I pronounce mother differently than you. It's not an exact example that I can remember, but it's pretty damn close to the convos I have had with people.

I've legit cried people finding my way of talking cute, hilarious, or weird. I just want people to stop, my way of talking isn't funny, it's damn tiring to try to sound like everyone else, quit talking over me and let me speak!

Please I want to just want to like my natural voice for once, without being reminded what I can't have with it. I want to not feel guilty that I don't have what others consider a 'valid reason' for why I sound like this.

So that's my emotional screaming into the void for y'all, talking is hard as shit, probably why I ended up a writer over a speaker. Even then writing itself had challenges before I got autocorrect, but really that's a whole other ball game I'm not going to get into right now. Poured enough emotions into this one already.

[eerythingisshaka]

The Coffee Prince Pt. 2

(T’Challa x Reader)

*Part 1*

Word Count: 3k

Plot:  Stuck in your ways of living, one day at the coffee shop, you run into a tall dark roast that threatens to wake you up from your romantic hibernation.

*Previously*

You are unphased and not listening when you get up and see this 6’0 man picking up his drink and turning towards you.  He makes his way to the side table, and your heart literally stops pumping for a split second from the anxiety.  He hasn’t seen you yet and he could easily leave very soon without your acknowledgment,  What if he doesn’t recognize you?  The L’s you could take outweigh the dubs by a mile.

You get up to go get an unnecessary sugar packet.

“Excuse me,” you say.

He looks to you and gives you a crooked smile.

“Ahh, how are you today, Ms. Macchiato.” He says while stirring his coffee.

You spontaneously start ovulating at his title for you.  He remembered your order, and made it a pet name for you!

You smile goofily as your heart threatens to fall out of your chest, “Yeah, that’s me!  How have you been….Thomas?”  Your voice rises an octave as you coyly played like you couldn’t remember one of the few things tied to him from your one engagement.

He furrows his brow at your statement.  “Ohh, you must have me confused with some other American coffee drinker.”

“Oh?  So that accent makes you from where, Boston?”

You both laugh.  Your mouth is getting dry from anxiety, so you sip your drink.  

“Gah! Fuck!”  You sputter some of the liquid down your chin, tongue hanging out fanning it.  The drink was scalding hot still.  

‘Thomas’ gets a napkin and hands it to you, concern clouds his face.

“Are you all right?  Should I go get you some water or…”

Heated with embarrassment noe more than the coffee, you shake your head trying to speak clearly.  “It’th fine, thankth.”  You say with a scalded tongue.

“Please, sit a moment.  I’ll be right back.”  He touches your arm to guide you back to a table and makes his way to the register.  You keep fanning yourself, mortified by your not so graceful behavior.

“Ok, come on, get your thit together.  You are a queen goddeth.  Anyone would be lucky to dick you down proper.”

You take a deep breath and look off to one side and see an old white woman shaking her head looking at you.  Of course that last sentence would come out clear as a bell, but you gave her a look of ‘and?’ while she continued eating her oatmeal.

‘Thomas’ comes back with cold Fiji water, cracking it open before handing it to you.

You take it in you hand with shock clearly displayed cross your face, ‘Thomas’ sits down across from you and notices your expression immediately.

“Is something wrong with it?  Is something in it?”  He leans to look at the bottle clutched in the hand.

Why did he have to be so cute when he scrunches his face with worry?  You snap out of it and try to relax again.  “No, it’th juth uh, you know they have free water cupth, right?  Like, you didn’t have to pay for one”

He waves his hand in protest, “It’s nothing.  I mean, you don’t need lukewarm tap water, this is better for you.”

You say before taking a sip, “Well that was very thweet of you.  I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about that.  I can’t standby while you’re in pain.  Though, the temporary speech impediment is kind of cute, I must say.”

“What do you mean?  Thith ith my real voice.  I wath juth trying to impreth you with perfect diction last time.”  You say, blowing your coffee, batting your eyes.

He chuckles, “Right, and I’m from Boston.”

You smile and look out the window for a second.  The high you feel from being in his company makes it hard to come back down to the reality that you have to make conversation, and you’re suddenly lost for words.  You want to know more about him but don’t want to come off as nosy or interrogative, or too eager, though you could smile at him giddily all damn day  But this is a cute guy, who is clearly attentive, splurging on some fresh H2O.  Ask him something!  Get some personal shit out the way!

You face him to see his round, gorgeous eyes looking at you.  You can’t read his expression before he looks down at his coffee again.

“What is your name, by chance?  I don’t think I got it before.” he asks before puckering his lips, that look like they’ve never known ash, to take a sip.

“Oh, it’s (Y/N)” you say.

“Ah, (Y/N) that’s a beautiful name.  It doesn’t seem too difficult to me.”

You practically melt at him saying your name.  You’d never want a different one long as those lips spoke it.

“Well, it shouldn’t be.  But people sense something has more than 2 syllables and their mind just flips.”

“Does it have any meaning behind it?”

“Mmm, not that I know.  I’d have to Google.  But all I know is my mom just liked it.  But what about you, ‘Thomas’?”  You say with a goofy grin, resting your chin on your hand.

“Yes, my name is T’Challa.”

“T….Challa?”

“Yes, that’s right! First try!”  He holds his hand up for a high five.

The world seems to go into slow motion when connecting your palm to his.  His hand is a skyscraper compared to yours, trying to memorize the feel of his hand through the little contact you had.

“What can I say, I’m a pro!”

“Very nice.  Impaired tongue and all!”  He pauses a moment before continuing, “Have you got time for a walk around to get some air?  It’s so beautiful outside.  May be nice…”

You look at your phone and see you should've been back at your desk 15 min ago.  

“Uh… actually I do need to go…”

“Bast! Well that’s ok. Maybe our paths can cross again in the future?”

Your face fallen, “Yeah, hopefully so.  Thanks again for the water…”

You start to get up and leave, “Ah, Miss (Y/N)?”

You turn to him, “Mhm?”

“Do you think I could call you sometime?  If it’s not too forward, we could arrange meeting outside of your work hours so it’s more convenient?”

You heart jumped into your throat at the proposal.  He’s asking for your number!  

“Sure thing!  I would love that.  Just let me know or I’ll call you whichever.  Cool!”

You back up to leave before you add anymore positive phrases to your long phrase affirming his invitation.

You step out the door of the shop and do a little Tiffany Haddish ‘she ready��� dance.  You couldn’t wait to fill Tavia in on the details.  T’Challa, T’Challa, the name just rolls off the tongue.

“Miss (Y/N)!  I thought you trying to dine and dash but …”

T’Challa was standing behind you for God knows how long, struggling to hold back his smile.

You straighten up, mortified.  Could he possibly be any more handsome and you be anymore a dork?

“Oh, no.  Um, what do you mean?”  you stammer, folding your arms to look semi-normal.

He pulls out his phone.  “We actually need each others numbers to call each other right?”

You still didn’t exchange numbers!  Thinking of how much of a mess you are you say, “Yeah, sorry!  Of course, allow me.”

You take his phone and type it in with your name saving it.

Handing it back, T’Challa takes it and puts it in his pocket, eyes never leaving your face as he gives you a closed mouth smile.

“You have a good rest of your day, (Y/N).  I look forward to connecting with you soon.”

He turns and strides down the sidewalk away.  As much as you hated to see him go, you loved watching him leave.  Was the dip in his gait put on or natural?  Either way, you loved it.

Later that day you go home, light as a feather.   You lowkey hate how some male attention could give you such an array of hormonal bliss that you felt like a traitor to the sisterhood.

Your roommate hadn’t gotten home yet so, you take the time to cook yourself some food, even though your hunger was honestly minimal.  Whenever you got really excited in any emotional direction, your appetite just goes south.  But you earned a meal today, so why not celebrate with dinner.  You look up a bookmarked recipe on your phone for some baked chicken with steamed vegetables and curl up to some Grown-ish as you work.  The episode with Yara Shahidi’s character obsessing over the relationship status of her and Cash was queued up.  Seeing her send literally 30 text messages to Cash saying an unintelligible number of things made you cringe hella heavy.  Why would she get caught up with a college athlete anyway?  You knew where this episode was going, as you turn back to seasoning your food.

While binge watching, you only eat about half of your food, which is better than nothing.  You have more energy than you know what to do with though, so with the extra living room space, you decide to knock out a little yoga to center yourself.   Laying out your mat and queueing up YouTube you switch to a yoga channel for beginners and put a chill playlist on shuffle.  You close your eyes as the instructor tells you to be present in today’s practice, breathing deeply and exhaling equally.  The practice started off simple enough with some cat-cows and downward dogs, but the intensity picked up soon once some planks and chair poses were thrown in.  You perspired like a Pinocchio meeting a woodpecker but pushed through each pose with a little motivation in your head.  If T’Challa could see me now.  Each challenge you faced, you thought of him being under you while you planked, over you while you did a bridge.  Once the poses were over you’d curse yourself for being so silly but hey, it worked.

During the cool down, the instructor tells you to get into happy baby pose, which you welcome with a deep sigh, wiping your brow.  You didn’t expect such an intense workout, so luckily you didn’t go ham on your food.

You hear the lock turn on the door, and in walks in Tavia.

“Well damn, bitch, am I interrupting something?!”

You look between your legs at Tavia, “Nah girl, I’m almost done.”

“You sure?  Cuz looks like you just getting started to me.  Why are you spreading your legs for anyone who walk in here?”

You roll out of your pose, grabbing your water. “Nothing, it’s been a minute since I got my mat out so…”  you say taking a sip.

Tavia takes a seat in a easy chair across from you, taking off her shoes.  “Mmhm, so what else is it bitch, cuz the fact that you ain’t posted up here smashing some cookies, watching Chocolate City or some other trash got me almost concerned.”  She says, faking her best concerned face.

You roll your eyes,  “It’s nothin!  Really, but I mean, I may have ran into someone today, but that’s not why I’m over here ‘pussy poppin’’ like you say.”

“Uh-uh.  How juicy is this?  I was drinking tonight anyway but lemme know should I grab my bottle right now?”

You look at her sideways and give a slight nod.

Tava screams like the Holy Spirit just caught her as she runs with her hands raised over to the fridge.  She gets out her moscato and runs back to her seat.  

“Uh, I don’t get a glass?”  You ask offended.

“No ma’am, you got talking to do.  You can’t talk and drink at the same time.” Tavia says with a tongue pop.

“ANYWAY, so I’m going to the coffee shop on my break, right?” You say excitedly.

“Right, ‘break’.” Tavia says clutching the bottle while doing air quotes.

“Listen, plenty of them folks go and do whatever on company time.  I need some caffeine to get through the mess.” You say defensively.

“Whatever, continue!”

“Ok, so I’m getting my shit, and just as I’m bout to leave, HIS order gets called.”

“Who??!”

“Thomas!”

Tavia’s body melts into the chair as she exclaims, “Whaaaaa??”

“YES! By the way, his name is T’Challa.”

“BITCH, you talked to him??”

With a little dance you confirm, “Hell yeah, fucking right!”

Tavia gets up to do a quick celebration twerk with you, passing the bottle. “Go head girl!  Ok, so how did you go up to him?  What did he say?”

Your face hurt from all the cheesing, “I just walked past him and he was like, ‘Hey, don’t I know you?’  and I said, ‘I hope so, cuz trying to know you.’  And eventually he remembered, so we got a table and talked about real surface level stuff, then I told him I gotta go back to work, so he was all ‘Well, I can’t have you walk out here without seeing you again.  Put your number in.’ So I did, and that’s really about it.”  You say content with your ‘story’.

Tavia was on the edge of her chair during your entire explanation until she said, “You gave him your number?”

You nod proudly, “Mhm!”

Tavia throws her hands in the air, “Girl!  You ain’t gonna be nothing but a booty call then.”

Ou screw your face up at this admission.  “Whatchu mean?  He ain’t hood actin’,  I just gave you the clipped version of how it went down.  Why you think that?”

Tavia sighs, “You gotta get his number, so you have control.  But since it’s the other way around, you gonna be waiting for him to call, and then when he does at 11pm, you gonna be showing off your wingspan and upset cuz he ain’t called you since.”

“Tavia, calm down.  It ain’t even been a day.  I’m not tryna wild like that, and he don’t seem the type.”  You say with less spirit than before.

“And if that’s what you wanted, you know I’m down for you; hit a split on the dick shawty act up!  But I know you for real want some committed peen, so I’m just giving you worst case before it slaps you in the face, ok?” Your good vibes from earlier are coming down faster than guillotine so you decide to dismiss yourself.

“Don’t be upset girl.  You still did your thing, and milk him for all it’s worth either way.  Hate the game, not the player!”  

You roll your mat up and go back to your room.  Your eyes go straight for your phone.  You think back to the articles you read on dating.  People usually wait 3 days to call right?  Or is that just after the first date?  What’re the rules for the phone exchange?  He could’ve texted you right there to have his number, but he didn’t so, could Tavia be right?  And if she was, is it so bad?  Dick is dick, and it sure hasn’t been present in your life.

You go to pick up your phone, opening up to the main menu.  

Missed Call (1) Voicemail (1)

Your heart thumps in your chest as you check the number.  It’s just digits, not one of your known numbers.  You walk across your floor couple times before listening to the message, calming yourself down and for the first time hoping it was just a bill collector.  You select the number and dial before closing your eyes to center yourself like the yoga instructor told you.  A few rings pass before you realize what you may have done.

“Hello?”

Your pulse literally stops as your eyes fly open at the voice on the other line.  You accidentally hit call back instead of call voicemail.

“Miss (Y/N)  Is that you?”  T’Challa says.

“Yeah, hey, how are you doing?”  You say in as steady voice you can muster as you pull at your hair in frustration.

“I missed you earlier.  Uh, your call, I mean.  Well, I called you.  Did you get my message?”

So that was him on that voicemail.  You didn’t want to lie but you didn’t want to look weird calling without context either.

“Uh, yeah. I did.  Thanks for calling by the way.”

He could’ve called to say he didn’t want to see you again.

“Please, I should be thanking you for offering your time.  So do you know when you would like to do it?”

Heat crawls from neck to your cheeks, out of your pits, from your nani, all at once. Do what?!  Is he inviting you somewhere or asking a favor?

“Uh, how does Saturday sound?”  You freeze at the anticipation of his answer.

“That’s great!  I have no problem with that.  We will try for 5pm?”

You nod like he can see you before responding, “Yeah, that’s good to me.  I can’t wait.”

You could practically hear T’Challa smiling as he said, “Wonderful.  Forgive me for the time of the hour, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You sit on the bed to keep from falling under your buckling knees.  “Not at all, I was just turning in so I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

“You’re too kind.  I will see you then, if not at the shop first!  Good Night (Y/N).”

“Good night T’Challa.”  You press the red symbol and take the deepest breath you’ve done all day.  How erotic did that sound ‘goodnight, T’Challa’?  Geez just call him back to come over and get it over with already, you thought.  

You turn off the light and lay in your bed electrified with that same energy from before.  You almost forgot, but you pick up the phone and push for voicemail this time and listen:

Hi, I hope this is the right number.  (Y/N), I’m just calling to see if you would come with me to the music festival this weekend.  I don’t know if you heard about it or if it is your thing, but it sounds like a nice time.  We could just walk around, enjoy the sounds.  Uhh, just let me know when you get the chance, or I may see you at our favorite place.  (laughs then clears his throat)  Umm, but yeah, sorry for the long message.  This is T’Challa by the way.  Hope to hear from you soon.

Your phone prompts you to save or delete the message and you carefully save it before you listen a couple more times.  Putting your phone away you turn on your side, squeezing your legs together to bring yourself back down again.  You remind yourself that this is still just nothing more than two people meeting up at a public place with a bunch of other people.  No one has claimed nobody yet.  But like Tavia said, gotta milk it for what it’s worth, and how you feel right now is pretty damn priceless.

Part 3

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

The Coffee Prince

Commencement Day

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@hairhattedghooligan@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive @you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines @airis-paris14

groovybbyy and nyeebey, yall here too! I just can’t tag you for some reason <3</p>

[beans-and-rice101]

Merry Christmas

Prompt: Imagine being the Christmas Gift Master for the Avengers or the Justice League. - @darkshadow3942

DISCLAIMER!!! I DO NOT PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY/BEING INTROVERTED!! I DO NOT PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO LIVE WITH A SPEECH IMPEDIMENT!! MY KNOWLEDGE ON BOTH SUBJECTS IS INFORMATION I HAVE GATHERED FROM UNRELIABLE SOURCES! however i am lazy and can't be bothered to do research rn SO IF WHAT I'VE WRITTEN IS INCORRECT OR MAKES YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE OR UPSET PLEASE FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A RESPECTFUL COMMENT!!

So this is actually completely wrong when compared to the prompt but I took creative license so fuck you. Also it's way late for Kringle but WHO CARES. I worked pretty hard on this so be gentle?

~~~

"T-Tinsel? Check. Tree? Check-k. Obnoxious self-sus-sustaining Christm-m-mas lights? Check. Met-t-ticulously crafted gingerb-bread houses that n-no one w-w-will eat because I w-work for a t-t-t-team of ungrateful sh-shits? Ch-Check." You placed the clipboard down after ticking the last box. You had volunteered as Christmas organizer this year as Pepper was busy trying to convince Mr Stark to leave her pregnant ass alone for five minutes. Worst. Decision. EVER.

You had decided(in your naive eagerness) to invite not-really-Avengers as well because you pitied Quill when he tried to explain the concept of Christmas to the Guardians. Plus you wanted to meet the Spider-Man that Mr Stark had been fussing over. God that man needed to chill. You had only hoped he would relax enough this past week for you to get everything done. Hardly. But no use dwelling on the horrors of unpaid apprenticeship! You still had a lot of work to do. Let's see... Hang up the tinsel and assorted decorations, figure out how to attach the lights to the top of the compound, hide the food from Clint and Thor, pick up the order of mince pies from Bow's and Holly's Bakery, be at the airport at 10:00am sharp to recieve Mr Stark and Mrs Potts, arrange the assigned rooms for the Wakandan and spacefaring guests... God... What were you forgetting!?

You pulled out your phone and look back through your notes for the day. Ah, yes. Pick up Peter. Peter? Oh, right, Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Happy was away with family - who were invited to join, but declined - in California. This left you with the additional task of either driving Mr Stark to meetings and seminars or organizing for chauffeurs. You honestly preferred the latter, but To-Mr Stark always insisted on paying you for the ride. Plus, he wasn't that bad as travelling partners went. In fact, for the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, Mr Stark is pretty cool. He isn't without his snark and a certain level of entitlement; and occasionally forgets that people like you live under different circumstances, but all in all, not the worst boss. Certainly better than the one that pays you.

Lost in thought, you very nearly ran into someone. Looking up at the person steadying you, you swallowed loudly at the sight of Steve Rogers. You smiled weakly and mumbled an apology as you looked down at your watch. "Oh sh-shit!"

"Uhh..?" Your gaze snaps back to Steve, who looks more than a little worried by your outburst. "Everything alri-?"

"I'M SORRY I HAVE TO GO THANKS FOR THE CHAT BYE!!" You sprinted past him; later you were informed that this was when you dropped your phone, but at the time your thoughts lay with the fact that it was 9:45am and you had to get your ass in gear.

You barely got to the airport as Mr Stark's plane was set to land. He and Mrs Potts had insisted on flying to San Francisco themselves to pick up Eddie Brock - Mr Stark's newest "find", whom he was as of yet, unsure of. Mr Brock had agreed on the condition that he stayed in a hotel of his choosing as opposed to the compound. Whether that was a lack of trust in you, Tony or himself, you weren't certain. Whatever the case, you didn't mind, as it was one less room for you to organize. As you contemplated Mr Brock, you turned up the radio, listening to the Christmassy songs.

Despite your responsibilities this year, you still found that you enjoyed Christmas. There was something about the cheesiness of it all. How over the top people would get, going to such great lengths to prove their Christmas Spirit. You were content with spending most Christmases by yourself, but lately you had been wondering what Christmas would be like when spent with someone. Don't be mistaken, you had plenty of memories with your family, and they stayed in touch, but it had been years since you had been home for Christmas. Your thoughts moved to the Avengers. Superheroes, secret agents, goody-goodies the whole lot of 'em. Most days, you found it hard to understand how so many different people could share a space... Maybe you envied them... You weren't much older than Peter Parker, but you would never consider to include you in the superhero equation.. You tried to convince yourself that you wouldn't belong, anyway. You had nothing to contribute; aside from coffee, bad jokes and a stutter that even your family couldn't decipher.

The car door opening jolted you out of your thoughts, and you looked over to see Mrs Potts sliding into the seat next to you. "How's planning going?"

"...How d-do you d-d-do it?" Mrs Potts laughed. After Mr Stark and Mr Brock were seated, you began the drive back to the compound. Along the way, you stayed mostly silent - unless it was to correct dates and names Mr Stark got wrong that Mrs Potts missed - and listened to the conversation. It was clear, at least to you, that there was both an air of caution from Mr Brock towards Mrs Potts, and a faint tint of distrust in Mr Stark's words to Mr Brock. You had never thought to ask why Mr Brock was of such interest to the billionaire, and from the air between the two men, you didn't intend to pry. You, personally, thought Mr Brock was quite polite, if a little blunt. He thought to include you in conversation, despite barely knowing you for a minute. When you started driving him to the hotel, preceding dropping off Mrs Potts and Mr Stark(who seemed hesitant to leave the two of you alone...), Mr Brock seemed to grow more closed off. You supposed he didn't want to distract you; or perhaps he didn't care.

With the lack of conversation, aside from occasional directions from Mr Brock, you started zoning out again. There was no point in returning to the compound straight after dropping him off. You would only have 20 minutes, then, to spare before it was time to go pick up Peter. Mr Parker? Should you address him formally as well? He was maybe two months older than you. You supposed it was better to be safe than sorry, but something about it felt wrong...

"Thank you for the lift." You nodded, smiling at Mr Brock as he got out of the car. "It was n-n-no problem, M-M-M-M-..." You sighed, giving up. You just nodded again. Mr Brock pulled his suitcase out of the trunk himself, waving off the doorman. You leaned out the side window, taking a moment to figure out your words before speaking. "I'll be b-b-back-ack at 6:15. Is that-at okay?" Mr Brock copied your earlier action before stepping back from the curb. You waved at him as you pulled away, contemplating what to do. You supposed you should at least pick up those pies from the bakery. In fact, it wasn't too far from Mr Parker's address... Nope. Didn't like it.

The bakery smelled fresh and the air was warm, compared to the snow outside. You rubbed your hands together, regretting not wearing thicker clothes. "Order for Mr T-T-T-Tony St-t-Stark?" The barista looked through the boxes and picked up a large cream one with clear plastic on the top so you could see the treats inside. You smiled thanks and regretted not returning the "Merry Christmas!" that followed you out into the cold. You sighed, taking a moment to look around. The street you were on wasn't too busy, and the shops were cheerful enough, but it seemed you were destined to be in a mournful mood this afternoon. You checked the time. 12:42pm. Not too bad on time. You decided to keep the pies in the back so that you weren't tempted to eat them. You had cookies at home that you could snack on.

Pulling up at the Parkers' house, you braced yourself for conversation. "Hi. I'm here for P-P-Peter Park-k-ker." Ehh. It was understandable. That was what you told yourself as you rung the doorbell. You heard the sound of footsteps(sprinting??) approaching the door, and it swung open to reveal a boy with a cheery smile and messy brown hair. He yelled goodbye to someone inside, before hauling his backpack to the car. He was already in when you got there. Oh boy...

"So... You work with Mr Stark, too?"

"For. I work-k for Mr St-tark."

"Oh. Right. So... You've met the other Avengers? Like... Personally?" The dreaded question. You shifted slightly, preparing the words on your tongue. "N-no. Not p-p-personally. I only work-k for Mist-ter Stark."

"Oh." Peter looked out the window. Oh God... You knew what he was thinking about. Here it comes- "So... Is your stutter, like, a speech impediment?" You sighed quietly. "Yes, it's a sp-peech imp-p-p-pe-pe-RRAA!" You slammed the breaks in frustration, skidding a little. You took a deep breath, and turned to Peter, who looked more than a little shocked. "I understa-tand that you have qu-questions, and this is p-p-probably your first-t t-t-t-t-... Your first ex-per-i-ence-" You said the word slowly. "-with someone lik-ke me. But I have answered these que-questions too man-n-n-n-ny times before. P-p-please do not ask-k anymore." Peter had the conscience to look apologetic and he nodded in understanding. "Okay. I promise not to ask anymore questions like that."

"Thank you."

You arrived back at the compound at about 3:08pm, and watched Peter run over to greet Mr Stark. As soon as you had started driving again, you felt guilty for snapping. You were grateful to Peter for being the civil one and apologizing, and you knew he crossed a line... Forget it. He apologized and you forgave him. He even offered to take the pies in, so you guessed there were no hard feelings. Anyway, back to doing your job which, funnily enough, didn't include yelling at superheroes.

You had 2 hours before you had to go pick up Mr Brock, so you decided to run back to your apartment and amuse yourself until then. You had all but given up on completing your other tasks. The Avengers would simply have to put up the tree themselves. You would apologize tomorrow. You hoped Tony would understand...

Your apartment was kinda chaotic, but you were pretty decent at keeping things in the area they belonged, so it wasn't too hard to navigate. It also meant you were less likely to lose something valuable if you were broken into. You pondered this as you prepared a simple sandwich for yourself. The ideal Christmas dinner. At least munching on it gave your mouth something to do. You checked the time. 5:41pm. You supposed you could leave now and pick Mr Brock up early. Or wait outside for him.

You decided on the former, as you realized the latter made it seem like you were here for suspicious reasons. You found out from the front desk where he was staying and took the stairs to avoid people. Mr Brock's room wasn't difficult to find. You knocked. Inside, there came a sound like a wounded animal. You grew worried, as Mr Brock's voice sounded deeper when he answered. "Yes?"

"Uh, hi. It's m-me, ag-gain. I hope I'm n-n-not intrud-ding, bu-but I had t-t-time to spare s-so..." You trailed off as the room behind the door grew quiet. "M-Mr Brock..?" Getting no response still, you knock again. The door swings open to reveal... Mr Brock. He looks a tad more shabby and a bit nervous, but he smiles anyway. You recover your professionalism and return the smile. "I've pu-parked the c-car out the fron-nt. I hope you d-d-don't mind, b-but I'd like t-t-t-... The evening to m-myself." Mr Brock looks confused. "You're not going to the party?"

"I'm n-not an Avenger."

"Neither am I." You huff. "I d-don't work WITH Mist-ter Stark-k. I'm his assis-sis-sis-..."

"Assistant."

"...Yeah..." You give him a tight-lipped smile and gesture back to the stairwell. "I'm g-gonna wait in the c-c-car..." Mr Brock nods, turning back to his room. "I won't be long."

Indeed he wasn't. You were only sitting in the car for 10 minutes before Mr Brock slid in behind you, looking only slightly less disheveled. But he was in a suit, and you'd seen Mr Stark look worse, so you started driving. The car ride is much like before, only you occasionally catch Mr Brock muttering intensely to himself. Odd. Now that you think about it, Mr Brock seems to be absent of many common traits among the people Mr Stark tends to recruit. Perhaps that was the reason for the underlying hostility between the two. Mr Brock certainly makes you slightly anxious. But you boil that down to second hand stress on his behalf. Checking the time again - 6:12 pm - you force yourself to calm down. If Mr Stark trusted this man enough to allow him around his pregnant wife, surely he's safe enough to share a car with.

You pull up to the compound and smile encouragingly at Mr Brock. He returns it and nods in gratitude before getting out. You watch him stumble up the stairs, a distant part of you wishing you could join in. Inside looks so happy and bright. Such a distant, alien world to you. So far out of your reach. Held within your sight by one man who, while friendly enough, barely acknowledges your existence. These people are far removed from you. The good they do surpasses your life. This is what you force yourself to remember, and you wipe the tears from your eyes.

The drive home is difficult, to say the least. What with the tears in your eyes, and the pull you feel back towards the party, you're surprised the car moves at all.

Your apartment is cold when you arrive. Not only due to the obvious symbolism of how lonely you are, but also because you forgot to leave the heater on. You don't care much, though. After everything, you just want to crawl into bed. At least there, you can dream. You can return to the party, to be greeted by smiling faces, all of them delighted at your arrival. There, you can exist in the world you crave. Part of a family that stretches through space.

There, you might just have a Merry Christmas.

[wind0wg0blin]

could I maybe get a matchup? I'm a bisexual male, 5'1, kinda chubby, and blonde w brown eyes! I love doin makeup n making art, reading, singing, and creating stuff like lil trinkets n shit. My humour/overall personality shifts depending on who I hang out with but I love to joke around and make people happy. I'm suuuuper overprotective of those who I'm close to n love cuddles :3. I'm good w both sfw and nsfw! ;;;;)

I match you with Leatherface! [Bubba Sawyer]

[NSFW below the cut]

Bubba being roughly 6’5” towers over you. He in general is a very large guy though it’s a good balance of squishy tummy and absolutely ripped biceps from lugging around a hundred pound chainsaw all the time.

Bubba loves how much smaller you are in comparison to him. It makes it very easy for him to come up behind you and just sweep you up into his arms.

You had moved into a small ranch neighboring the Sawyers farm. You didn’t take much heed to any warnings given to you from the townsfolk. Though you almost wish you had when you started to notice someone watching you from the woods. 

The first time you met Bubba was when you were walking around in the woods and ended up getting chased by what you thought was a bear but turns out it was just a really fat raccoon. You in your screaming panic had run a considerable distance onto the sawyer property more concerned about your own well being than your neighbors opinions of you. As you leaped over a fallen tree you landed flat on your face believing that you were about to be torn to pieces. Though a sudden whoosh and a loud thunk had to slowly lifting your head to see a very large man standing a few meters from you an odd looking mask covering his face. Looking behind you the raccoon was dead held suspended in the air by a wood axe having skewered it to the tree.

Bubba helped you to your face blushing madly from holding your hand. Retrieving his axe he brought you back to the house where you briefly met your neighbors all clearly busy with their farm work. You had a decent chat with Bubba and verna, his mother. On the porch were you learned their names and a few things about them. Like how bubba wore the mask due to his facial deformity, he was very shy and had speech impediments. Also that verna had just finished baking some deserts and you can’t just head off after such a terrible run in without some comfort food. Now sitting in the passenger’s seat of sheriff hoyts car with a lap full of food you wave goodbye to bubba and his mother.

You and the sawyers got along very well after this. Bubba would often come to your home to visit and provide company, Verna loved having someone to give any extra food to, and you loved not being alone in the middle of the texas backwoods.

When you would leave from visiting the sawyers Bubba was immediately confronted by everyone asking if he was falling in love for this silly little outsider. To most this would seem like them teasing him but really bubba was the man of the house so if he wanted you all to himself that’s how it would be. No one bothered you or even joked about eating you as after one of bubba’s brothers made some off hand comments he silenced everyone by striding up behind the smaller man and absolutely pummeling him. He loved his family but he was not gonna tolerate any shit.

This overprotectiveness of Bubba’s was only further cemented when one night he was over at your house sitting with you in your living room watching tv and just listening to you talk when a car door slammed outside and three frat boys came strutting up to the front door all snickering and clearly drunk. You began to stand up a confused look on your face but bubba motioned for you to stay behind him as he stood up straight answering the door for you. The three frat kids were clearly surprised as they craned their heads up to look at bubba.

You poked your head out from behind Bubba asking the group what they wanted. What ever cruel joke they had planned was quickly snuffed as Bubba glared at each of them wanting them to start shit so he could curb stomp the smug grin off their faces. The one standing the farthest from the door mumbled an apology before rushing back to the car the others following tires throwing dust as they floored it away from the house. You clueless as to what just happened wandered into the kitchen for some food. Bubba being quite proud of himself locked the door and let a satisfied huff

You don’t know when your relationship with bubba started its just that he was always around, and one time he kissed your cheek before he left. Then the next night as you were leaving his house you gave bubba a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before skipping away to your car too nervous to look back at his reaction. The next thing you new you two were having make out sessions on the couch getting all handsy.

The first time you guys did anything sexual was in the shower at your house. He had pinned you to the tile wall and jerked you off before you returned the favor. While bubba absolutely wanted to stay and see where things would go Verna called saying something was a muck and she needed bubba to come settle things. Though before bubba left he kissed you hard and passionately pulling you up the wall next to the door so your legs wrapped around his waist. He growled in annoyance when Sheriff hoyt pulled in blaring the car horn after being ignored for the first few times.

The first time you had actual sex was at the sawyers house. Bubba had invited you over as he was home alone for the weekend while his family left to do whatever it was that they did. He had made you dinner and planned out a lovely evening of just enjoying each others company. Though as it got dark when you suggested you outta start heading home bubba took your hand and lead you upstairs pulling you into his room. He sat you down on the bed as he locked the door behind him just in case.

Things got hot quick both of you just wanting to skip to where you left off from that one night. Bubba was just as huge as the rest of him stuffing you full. Just thinking about everything that was happening and you could’ve cum right then and there. Though bubba being the man he is ended up being even better than what you dreamed about. You stopped counting how many times you had orgasmed after 5. Bubba had turned you into putty in his master full hands and mouth. It came as a shock when he later told you he had been a virgin up until you.

For days you were covered in hickies from this encounter. You also hurting from having your legs spread so far apart to accommodate bubba’s thickness. He would apologize whenever he would see you grimace from moving too quickly. You always waved him off though cause it was definitely worth it.

You thought bubba would be kinda old fashioned only having sex in the bed anywhere else being too “taboo” though after teasing him all day while he worked he had you bent over the kitchen table screaming his name as he drove his hips into you hard enough that you thought your hips would break.

It probs pretty clear but bubba has a really high libido so good luck with that folks!

[Here ya go I made it extra long cause I love Bubba and this was kinda self indulgent….]