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the-bad-batch-baroness · 9 months

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A Man's Worth

Tup x Fem!Reader

Chapter 3: Death in the Twilight

Summary: Your date-night with Tup is interrupted when your stalker finds you and won’t leave without you. Tup heroically comes to your defense, but is overpowered by the assailant and you are taken away. After your rescue, Tup struggles with his insecurities and self-worth as he tries to heal physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Pairing: Tup x Fem!Reader

Characters: Tup, Kix, Fives, Echo, Rex, Jesse, Hardcase, Dogma

Tags & Warnings: 18+, established relationship, domestic fluff, minor suggestive themes, stalking, kidnapping, violence, blood, major injuries, whump, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, minor character death, self-worth, masculinity, depression, PTSD

Word Count: 6.6k

Author’s Note: This is probably the quickest I've ever updated a fic, but that's only because the chapter was already written. However, I did edit it so it connects better with the previous one. Beware, this chapter is pure angst. No fluffiness in sight! The next chapter will be a little slow to come out, since I haven't written it yet. Also, there may be a fifth chapter because I can't seem to stop. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

It’s cold, so very cold, and wet. Where did all this water come from? Tup wonders. He tries to move his body away from the cold and wet feeling, but none of his limbs obey his mental commands. Why can’t I move? The tips of his toes begin to tingle, and the odd sensation travels up his legs and torso, eventually spreading into every nook and cranny of his body, like water filling an empty vessel. The tingle turns into a throb, then an ache, and finally into a burning fire.

He feels the weight of something crushing his chest and his breath is stolen. Why can’t I breathe? Where did my lungs go? He tries to open his mouth to scream for help, but it also won’t listen to his commands. Is he even in his body right now? He tries to remember where he is and why he’s there. It’s dark, pitch dark, and silent, like a stasis of being. An ominous and unnerving thought nags at the back of his mind, but it refuses to be caught into his consciousness.

Suddenly, a bright light breaks through the darkness, but it looks cold. It doesn’t look like the light he imagined the call of death would resemble. Wait… Death? Am I dead? He tries to remember, but the picture in his mind is fractured like puzzle pieces dumped onto a floor. Parts of a whole scattered across a vast and never-ending expanse. His remaining thoughts are pierced by a loud noise. He wants to cover his ears from the ringing but he can’t. His eyes finally open.

The artificial lights are bright and his vision is blurry. The constant beeping sound stabs into his skull. His head is swirling as his mind fails to comprehend where he is. It’s too bright. It’s too loud. He attempts to take a breath, but he can’t. He tries to move his hands, but he can’t. He tries to speak, but he can’t. Panic sets in and the beeping sound becomes louder and faster, pounding further and deeper into his head. All he wants is for someone to make it stop.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a muffled and calm voice breaks through his panicked haze. “Easy vod’ika. Udesii. Calm down.”

Tup’s mind is a swirling mess of confusion and incoherent thoughts. He can’t place the voice, and he doesn’t care who it belongs to as long as they make the noise stop. He needs help. He needs the voice to help him. His body won’t move and his lungs won’t work. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I move my legs? Why can’t I move my arms? Tup struggles weakly against his confines, desperately attempting to move something, anything, but a set of firm hands stops him.

“Tup,” the muffled voice becomes clearer and is more stern than before. The figure stands over him, blocking out the bright lights overhead, while waving a hand across his vision. “Look at me.”

Tup blinks to try and clear away his blurry vision. He sees the dark outline of a face, but he can’t make out who it belongs to. He feels something odd, then his stomach lurches and he stifles a cough against his teeth as he feels a long tube being pulled out of the inside of his body and neck. The feeling is startling and uncomfortable, but nothing he can’t handle. He tries to take a deep breath now, but he can’t. Why can’t he breathe? Why won’t the blurry man let him breathe?

“Tup, breathe through your nose,” the soothing voice commands. “Focus on breathing through your nose.”

Tup blinks harder and the picture becomes clear. It’s Kix. He wonders what Kix is doing here. He tries to ask him, but he can’t open his mouth. Why can’t he open his mouth? The new realization sets in. He can’t open his mouth, which is why he can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. A fresh wave of panic washes over him and that incessant beeping noise gets louder and faster again. The beeping matches the rhythm of his heart and it pounds into his head like a stake.

“You’re giving me no choice,” Kix sighs as he grabs a small syringe off the counter. “I need you to calm down and breathe through your nose.” He takes the syringe and injects the contents into the IV attached to Tup’s neck.

Tup feels a rush of warm liquid travel to the ends of his extremities. He sees stars and his body lightens as he becomes a little drowsy. His heartbeat begins to slow and the beeping of the heart monitor follows the new rhythm. As his nerves settle, he starts breathing disjointedly through his nose. Kix looks in his eyes and breathes with him, trying to have him match his rhythm. A slow inhale and a slow exhale, over and over again, until Tup is breathing at his own pace.

“That’s it,” Kix praises softly. “You’re doing great.”

As his body falls deeper and deeper into a relaxed state, Tup tries to ask Kix what’s going on, but he still can’t open his mouth. His eyes grow wide, but his body won’t let him fall into another panic episode. He eyes Kix and tries to communicate that he can’t open his mouth, but Kix doesn’t catch on to his attempts at telepathy. Instead, Kix sits in the chair next to the hospital bed, throws his head back, and sighs in relief. Tup is confused at his actions and waits for him to speak.

Kix picks his head back up and leans toward the bed. “Thank the Maker, you're finally awake.”

Tup furrows his brow in confusion, the only body part he can seem to move at the moment.

“You gave us quite the scare,” Kix chuckles lightheartedly.

Tup doesn’t know what Kix is talking about.

“You didn’t wake up after your surgery,” Kix explains as he leans back in the chair and rubs his forehead. “And to be honest, we weren’t sure if you would wake up at all. It’s been Five rotations.”

Tup’s eyes widen with the startling news, but the pieces of his memory are still scattered.

“You have multiple fractures in both legs, your left arm, several cracked ribs, internal bleeding, a skull fracture, and a broken jaw,” Kix continues to explain. “We were able to reconnect most of the broken pieces during surgery and repair the internal bleeds.”

Tup’s breathing quickens at the laundry list of injuries he’s unsure how he got.

“I had to wire your jaw shut too,” Kix notes as he realizes he should have mentioned that piece of information first since he’s been talking to himself for the entirety of the conversation. “Which is why you can’t open your mouth and need to breathe through your nose. I also had to intubate you using a trach in your throat because you stopped breathing eight times, but I removed that when you woke up.”

Tup’s mind goes numb with all the information. Some pieces are clicking back together as he now understands why he can’t speak or why he had so much trouble breathing. He still doesn’t remember how he received such severe injuries that warranted this much medical intervention. As he studies Kix’s face for more answers, he can see the dark circles under his eyes and his hair threatening to cover the tattoo on the side of his head. He looks burnt out and exhausted.

“Also, you’re in traction,” Kix adds as he rubs the back of his neck. “Basically, you’re immobile. Well, except for your head and your right hand, but I restrained both just in case you had an intense reaction when you woke up. Glad I did too. I didn’t need you pulling your breathing tube out.”

Tup stares into Kix’s eyes, trying to communicate all his observations and questions to him, but has no luck.

Kix can see the searching look in Tup’s eyes as they dart around. He cocks his head to the side at the obvious dilemma and thinks for a moment. “If I remove the restraints,” Kix begins with hesitation, “will you promise not to do anything stupid? Blink twice for yes or once for no.”

Tup blinks twice in response. What could he possibly do with one hand?

Kix walks around to the other side of the medical bed and undoes the restraint holding Tup’s right hand securely to the rail. Tup slowly moves his arm, rolls his wrist, and expands and contracts his fingers to gauge their function. Kix then removes the strap holding his head in place and eyes Tup suspiciously for a moment. Once he’s satisfied with his patient's calm demeanor, he places a data-pad down next to his free hand. “Type what you want to ask me,” Kix says.

Tup carefully turns his head to the side to look at the data-pad and taps on the letters slowly with his fingers. The data-pad, like most, has a text to voice feature, so after he types the words, the built-in voice reads them to Kix.

What happened?

“You don’t remember?” Kix asks with a raised eyebrow.

No.

“Great,” Kix sighs as he grabs his own data-pad with Tup’s medical chart pulled up. He scrolls through some information and makes a few notes. “I’ll add concussion to the list.”

What happened?

“Based on the holo-recording Fox gave us,” Kix begins to explain in a serious tone, not bothering to look up from his data-pad. “You picked a fight with a clone serial killer and miraculously survived.”

Tup knits his brows in confusion as he tries to remember the events, but everything is fuzzy.

Show me.

Kix looks up from his data-pad and frowns. “That’s not a good idea.”

Tup slaps his hand down on the data-pad, his only way of showing emotion. He wants to see it. He wants to see what happened because he can’t remember any of it. He knows he’s forgetting something important and it’s clawing at the back of his mind like an animal trying to escape a cage. He tries to think back to the events that led him here, but the fog is too thick to see through. He gets glimpses, flashes of light, pricks of pain, and sounds that drift along like strangled chords.

Kix crosses his arms and weighs the pros and cons. On one hand the footage could jog his memory, but it’s also disturbing, and watching himself get brutally beaten could put Tup in a state of panic. Kix grumbles to himself but gives in. If things go south, he can always sedate him. Kix swipes through his data-pad and pulls up the footage the Corrie Guard sent over the night they found Tup. He hesitates, but holds the data-pad up for Tup to see and presses play.

Tup watches as the silent recording starts out with an empty alley. As the holo-cam footage rolls further, he sees himself come into view with a woman behind him. A woman? Who is she? The heart monitor starts beeping faster as his thoughts start reeling, trying desperately to remember. Something is coming back to him, but it’s still too vague to connect, like an extension cord that’s too short. If only he had more length. Kix looks up at the monitor and back down at Tup’s face.

His breathing quickens through his nose as he watches himself fight the monstrosity of man in the footage. Then it happens, his fist gets caught. He feels a twinge in his left hand. He may not remember, but his body does. His body remembers all of it. He continues to watch as his limbs are snapped in half and the woman in the footage cowers against the alley. It’s there. It’s on the tip of his tongue. If he could vomit it out, he would. The name. The name of the woman.

A shooting pain strikes like lightning across the back of Tup’s head. He brings his right hand up to touch it out of reflex, but Kix grabs it before it can make contact. Tup looks up at Kix and Kix shakes his head as a warning. Tup’s face scrunches at the shooting pain. He wants to yell, but the most he can do is grunt incoherently through his wired jaw. The pain is excruciating. He wants to keep watching to see what happens to the woman, but Kix pulls it away before it ends.

“That’s enough for now,” Kix says. He rummages through a drawer and pulls out a small vial and a new syringe. “This will help with the pain.” Kix pushes the medicine through the IV and sits back in the chair with his data-pad on his lap.

After a few seconds, Tup starts to feel relief from the stabbing pain in his head and relaxes again. He flips the holo-footage through his mind like pages in a book, roving over them as he tries to understand the whole picture. Little pieces begin to creep back into his mind. Pain. So much pain. The sound of his own screaming resounds in his mind like an alarm bell. Then a face. A face that’s very important to him. A face that he’s desperately trying to remember.

“You’ll be happy to know that he’s been eliminated,” Kix says with a reassuring smile. Tup is pulled from his wandering thoughts. “And she’s safe.”

Tup scrunches his brows together and forces his brain to think. She. Who is she? He closes his eyes and tries to remember, searching the recesses of his mind. Then he hears it. The sound of your voice, broken and terrified. A sound he thought he could never forget, but he did. He forgot about you. The memories of your life together flood into his mind like a broken dam. The sound of you crying and the sound of you begging that monster to let him go, it churns his stomach.

It’s all backwards. He was supposed to protect you, but ultimately, you protected him. This isn’t right. None of it. What is wrong with him? Why couldn’t he take him? Why couldn’t he protect you? What kind of soldier does that make him? What kind of a man does that make him? The destructive thoughts infect his mind, taking root in every corner of his psyche, smashing his pride and crushing his ego into little tiny pieces of worthless dust. A failure, that’s what he is.

Kix watches and waits for Tup to respond to the good news, but he doesn’t. The lack of response concerns Kix for a moment, but perhaps the pain medicine was a little much for his system and he didn’t hear him the first time. “He’s dead and she’s safe,” Kix repeats a little louder.

How?

Kix finds the first question odd, but he rolls with it. “Fives, Echo, and Jesse went on a manhunt, killed him, and rescued her,” Kix begins to explain.

Tup rolls his eyes, and Kix takes notice. Of course someone else had to save his girlfriend, Arc troopers no less. The strongest and bravest of all the clones. Tup scoffs at himself in his mind, thinking about his pathetic attempt at protecting you and then failing in the most horrific way possible. Not only did his girlfriend have to bribe the offender to let him go, but he can’t even get the satisfaction of killing the scum himself. It’s humiliating, another man finishing his fight and saving his woman.

“Even with the three of them in full kit, it wasn’t easy to take him down,” Kix explains further. He realizes that something isn’t right with Tup’s reaction. He can’t fully place it, but he has a hunch, and it has him worried. “According to Fives, he took a blaster shot to the chest and kept moving. I’m still baffled how you went up against this guy alone and survived with no protection.”

Luck.

Kix chuckles half-heartedly at the short answer. “Must be.”

Who was he?

Kix pauses and wonders where this line of question is leading. “They ran him through facial recognition and it turns out he was known as the Clone Killer,” Kix explains with a shocked expression. “He was wanted in several planetary systems for killing at least fifty clones, but he’s dead now. Fives made sure of that.”

Tup huffs through his nose and Kix furrows his brows. Of course it was Fives. He doesn’t want to hear about the ARC trooper’s heroic rescue of his girlfriend or how Fives killed the man responsible. They’re probably already dating each other at this point if he’s been unconscious for five rotations. He doesn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to be with him either, seeing as he’s so useless. She’s better off with an ARC trooper protecting her. She’s better off without him.

“She’s here if you want to see her,” Kix mentions with a smile in an attempt to cheer him up and bring the conversation back to being about you.

No.

“No?” Kix questions. Now he’s really confused and concerned about what’s going on in Tup’s brain. “What do you mean, no?”

No.

“You do remember who she is, right?” Kix asks, double checking that the concussion didn’t wipe out all of his memories.

Yes.

“Then why don’t you want to see her?” Kix continues, still shocked by Tup’s apathetic responses.

Tup doesn’t answer, but instead looks away from Kix. He doesn’t want his brother to see the humiliation and embarrassment growing on his face. He doesn’t have to explain his reasoning. He doesn’t have to share his deepest fears or his radical insecurities that all of a sudden moved in and kicked his old confident self out. This is his problem, his fight, and his battle. His other fight was stolen from him, so this one he’s going to keep all to himself and wage on his own.

Kix raises an eyebrow and studies Tup for a moment, his hunch becoming more and more apparent at the silent treatment he’s receiving. “Oh, I see,” Kix says knowingly while crossing his arms. “Your pride got hurt, didn’t it? Because you couldn’t save your girlfriend and someone else did.”

Tup turns his head and glares at Kix as he sees right through him. Kix’s intuition and blatant disregard for his privacy makes him angry. His reasons are none of Kix’s business. How dare he say it out loud with such disdain in his voice, mocking him as he lies helpless in a hospital bed. He didn’t ask to be saved and he didn’t ask for Kix to psychoanalyze his private thoughts. This whole situation is ridiculous, meaningless, and he wants to be left alone.

“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” Kix says in bewilderment. “You walked away from this with your life. You could’ve died.”

Should have.

Kix rubs his hand across his mouth and huffs in disbelief. He gets up from his chair, walks to the side of the bed, and lowers his face down to be eye to eye with Tup. “You listen to me and you listen well,” Kix begins with a stern voice. “I didn’t save your life so you could lie here and brood about your fragile masculinity. I don’t care about your feelings and I don’t care about your pride or your dignity or your ego. I only care that your heart keeps beating and your lungs keep breathing. So suck it up trooper.”

Tup scrunches his face into the best sneer he can make in response to Kix’s fiery words.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” Kix says as he straightens up and shakes his head. “Well, I’ll let everyone know you’re awake and that you don’t want any visitors. Rex and the others have only been sitting in that waiting room for five rotations waiting for you to wake up, but by all means, wallow here alone in your own self-pity.”

Kix turns to leave and Tup throws the data-pad at his back. It hits without much force and clatters against the tiled floor.

Kix takes a deep breath, whips around, and glares back at Tup in anger. “I swear, if you weren’t already broken, I’d break you myself!”

Kix grabs the data-pad off the floor and lays it on the counter. He then leaves the room, slams the door behind him, and leans his back against it. He sighs and brings his hands up to rub his face. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, traumatic injuries never are, but he wasn’t expecting this type of reaction, and definitely not to this severity level. If this is any indication of how the rest of the recovery will be, it’s going to be a hard-fought and bumpy road for everyone.

Kix thinks about his options and decides the next best course of action is to let everyone know Tup’s awake and alert. He meanders his way through the sterile hallways, medics and orderlies rushing past him as he thinks about how to explain Tup’s condition. He can use all his medical knowledge and verbiage to make it sound less impactful, or he can just come out and say it and wait for the shock factor to wear off, like ripping a bandaid off.

He rounds the corner to the waiting room, pauses, and takes a step back into the corridor. He smiles fondly. A sea of white and blue all tangled together with you at the center. You’re sitting sideways in one of the waiting room chairs, head leaning against Rex’s shoulder with your legs outstretched on Jesse’s lap. Jesse, Echo, and Fives are leaning against each other, while Hardcase and Dogma are leaning peacefully against Rex.

The image is almost too pure to disturb so he pulls out his data-pad to snap a holo-photo of the moment. Maybe showing it to Tup will help him understand how valued and loved he truly is. Kix looks at the holo-photo and smiles. They may be clones, and viewed as a subhuman species to most, but their bond as brothers is the strongest force in the universe. No one messes with one of their brothers and gets away with it. If no one else will protect them, they must do it themselves.

Kix sighs and braces himself to deliver the news. He walks into the waiting room, approaches Rex, and gently rouses him from his sleep. Rex blinks and straightens himself up to stretch his shoulders, which starts a cascading effect of waking the others around him. You stir as your head dips from Rex moving his shoulder, which causes you to kick Jesse and wake him. One by one, each trooper stirs from their slumber and stretches out their cramped bodies.

“What’s the news?” Rex sleepily asks as he rubs his face.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Kix asks in return.

You startle at the idea of bad news, but Kix stretches out his hand to assure you that the bad news isn’t terrible news. You still wonder what kind of bad news you’re up against. Ever since you were taken, your only reality was that Tup was dead, but after your rescue, you had hope that he was going to survive. “What’s the good news?” you ask, thinking that it will help you get through whatever bad news may come next.

“Tup is awake, alert, and he doesn’t seem to have any permanent brain damage,” Kix answers.

Several sighs of relief and ‘thank the Maker’ erupt from the group. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in as tears fall from your eyes. Rex rubs your back for reassurance and comfort. Every day of waiting with no answers was painful as you desperately wished for Tup to wake up. There were no guarantees that he would or that if he did wake up, he wouldn’t be catatonic or brain dead. To hear that he’s awake and alert is the greatest news you could ask for.

You look up at Kix and mouth ‘thank you’ to him as the words can barely escape your mouth through the rolling tears of joy. Kix wants to smile, but the other half of his news won’t let him. He doesn’t want to destroy your little bit of joy by sharing about Tup’s spiraling mental health, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. That’s the double-edged sword of being a medic. He has to deliver good news and bad news. He can’t pick and choose which one to give.

“What’s the bad news?” Rex asks cautiously, a twinge of nervousness in his voice.

Kix rubs the back of his neck and tries to formulate his words carefully. “Tup,” Kix begins, but then pauses again before continuing. “Physically, his recovery is progressing as well as expected, but mentally…” Kix trails off as he thinks about his words. “Traumatic events like this one can alter a person’s psychological state, so mentally…” Kix pauses again, struggling for the first time to get words out. “Mentally he’s not doing well.”

“What do you mean, mentally?” you ask in concern. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes and no,” Kix answers in hesitation as his tone goes high and low with the words. “He’s struggling with his self-worth.”

“Self-worth?” you repeat in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Spit it out, Kix,” Rex demands.

Kix sighs and puts all his cards down on the table. “He’s angry at himself about what happened and doesn’t think he deserves to live.”

“What?!” you retort in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous! Of course he deserves to live!”

“Not according to him,” Kix breathes out as he rubs his forehead.

“Can I see him?” you ask, determined to knock some sense into your boyfriend.

Kix frowns. “He doesn’t want any visitors.”

“He doesn’t want to see me?” you repeat quietly with disappointment as your eyes threaten to release more tears.

“Wait a minute, hold on, back up,” Fives interjects, astonishment dripping from his words. “We went through absolute hell to save him and her, and kill the man responsible, and he doesn’t want to see us?!”

“Like I said,” Kix starts calmly. “His mental state is extremely unstable.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tup,” you whisper as you think back to your happy-go-lucky boyfriend and his playful demeanor.

“This type of mental shift isn’t uncommon for trauma survivors,” Kix explains, trying to sound as compassionate and realistic as possible. “It changes people. He may not be the same man you remember, and he may never be that man again.”

The room goes quiet as somber thoughts float around like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze. No one can imagine a different Tup than the one they know so well. He’s always been bright, cheery, playful, and a bit of a tease to his batchmate Dogma. The idea that the Tup they know could be gone forever is a hard pill to swallow, especially for you. To think that your happy life was ripped away in one night is almost too much to bear.

“I want to see him,” you assert as you stand up from your chair.

“That’s not a good idea,” Kix warns while shaking his head.

“I don’t care,” you argue, your emotions cracking through your voice. “I need to hear it from him.”

“We’ll go with you,” Echo adds as he stands up and gestures to Fives and Jesse.

“That’s definitely not a good idea,” Kix emphasizes while putting up both hands.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” you ask as you take a few steps towards Kix and look him in the eyes.

Kix tries to look away, but your conviction catches his gaze. He sighs. “I can’t stop you if you’re determined. I can only strongly advise against it.”

You nod that you understand the risks and are willing to take them.

“However,” Kix cautions, his voice turning serious. “His health is my top priority and I will remove you, any of you, if you aggravate his condition.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you acknowledge, fully embracing the terms of the visitation. You look back towards Echo, Fives, and Jesse and they give you nods of agreement.

As much as the rest of the group wants to see Tup, they stay behind in the waiting room, content in knowing that their brother is awake and out of immediate danger. Rex gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder and you return the gesture with the best smile you can form. You take a deep breath then follow Kix down the corridors, staring at your reflection in floor tiles as you stroll along. The three Arc troopers trail along behind you for the silent walk to Tup’s room.

You wonder what you’ll say to him. You’ve had some time to think about it since your rescue, the thoughts you want to express. Your gratitude, your fear, your love, your elation, all of it. You want to tell him everything and not spare any details. He’s in that hospital bed because of you after all, so it’s the least you can offer him. It should have been you, not him. You barely have a scratch on you, which only fuels your anger at yourself for Tup’s condition. He’s not worthless, not to you.

You finally reach his room and Kix stops in front of the door as he mentally prepares himself to walk inside. You decide to fortify yourself too. Kix said Tup’s not the same man as before, but you don’t know what that means. You don’t know what that looks like and you’re not entirely sure you want to know, but you need to know, even if it hurts. Even if he spits in your face and tells you to walk away, you need to know who he is now. You need to know how to love him where he’s at.

You take a deep breath as Kix opens the door and brace yourself. You haven’t seen him since you were in the alley. The last image you have of Tup is him hanging, bloody and lifeless from your stalker’s grip. Your breath quickens and your anxiety spikes as you step into the sterile hospital room. The heart monitor beeps steady and rhythmically, a good sign that he’s relaxed, and as you come around Kix, you finally get your first glimpse of Tup and it breaks your heart.

His entire body is wrapped in bandages, with limbs casted and suspended in the air using pins screwed into joints attached to wires that coil around pulleys. Several IV bags hang on a nearby pole with different fluids dripping through the catheter into his neck. What can be seen of his face is bruised and swollen from his dislocated jaw. The setup looks archaic and almost barbaric, like a scene out of horror holo-film, but it must be necessary if this is what Kix decided.

You cautiously step closer to the bed, with Jesse, Fives, and Echo hanging back alongside Kix to give you a little privacy. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, that you would be strong for him, but looking at his immobilized body and listening to the beeping monitors threatens to break your resolve. You look back at Kix for reassurance, and he gives you an affirming nod. You walk around to the other side of the bed, to where Tup’s hand is free, and gently place yours atop his.

Tup startles at the sudden touch and you flinch in response to his jerk, but you don’t remove your hand. You brush your thumb along the back of his knuckles in a soothing manner. He slowly turns his head to see who’s touching him and to his surprise, it’s you, smiling down at him with those beautiful eyes he instantly and intimately recognizes. For a moment his heart leaps knowing that you’re alright, that you’re safe, but he lets the feeling fade into his abyss of despair.

“Hey,” you say softly when you notice his eyes are on you. You almost lose your composure with just one word.

He doesn’t answer.

“Oh, yeah,” Kix says under his breath as he realizes Tup can’t communicate. Kix grabs the data-pad off the counter and brings it over to you. “You’ll need this if you want to talk to him.”

Tup glares at Kix for ignoring his wishes. Kix glares back. “Keep it on the bed this time.”

“Thanks,” you say as you grab the data-pad from him. You set it down next to Tup’s hand and wait eagerly for his response.

Leave.

Your heart sinks at the cold solitary word. “What?” you ask in confusion. The first thing he tells you when you finally get to see each other again, is ‘leave’? That can’t be right. Maybe he misspelled ‘love’. That must be it. There’s no reason for him to make you leave, not when you haven’t had a chance to tell him how happy you are to see him alive. You chuckle playfully. “I can’t leave. I just got here.”

Leave.

“Tup,” you say as your smile turns into a worried frown. You search his amber eyes, pleading for him to tell you more. “I’ve missed you.” You put your hand back on top of his and he pulls away from your touch.

Leave.

You hold back your tears as you realize Kix is telling the truth. This isn’t the Tup you remember. This isn’t the Tup that you went on dates with, laughed with, baked with, or made love with. This Tup you don’t know. It isn’t just the endless amounts of bandages or pain medication. No. His cold gaze and lifeless demeanor; this isn’t the same man that you held hands with five rotations ago. “Tup, please,” you plead with a strained voice. “Talk to me.”

Tup averts his gaze and moves his head to look at the other side of the room, and that’s when he sees them. The real heroes. The real clones. The real men. The men that did what he couldn’t. The men who protected you and saved you from your attacker. It’s like a fairytale dream where the princess is saved from the evil monster by the handsome prince, except it’s not him. He didn’t even get a chance to audition for the lead role in his own story and it broke him.

“Tup,” you call to him, hoping to get his attention back on you.

He wishes you would stop saying his name. It sounds disgusting and he doesn’t want your forced pity. It’s embarrassing enough to have you standing there, gawking at his broken body, but to hear you say his name with such sympathy is demeaning. The more he thinks about it the more his anger builds. Anger at himself, anger at you, and anger at the ARC troopers who had the gall to stand in his hospital room and gloat about their triumphant victory. It makes him sick.

Get out.

You finally let your tears fall as your heart shatters into a million pieces. He really doesn’t want to see you, but that’s what you wanted right? To hear it from him? To prove Kix wrong, thinking that you knew Tup enough that he would get one good look at you and he would somehow go back to normal? And now you have your answer, but it isn’t the answer you wanted. It isn’t the answer you hoped for. The nightmare continues, rolling like a stone beaten by a river.

Unable to watch the emotionally depressing scene play out any longer, Fives decides to intervene and bring his two cents to the table. Kix tries to stop him, but Fives is a force to be reckoned with when he’s determined. He doesn’t understand Tup’s attitude at all. He was there at the scene of the crime. He saw his brother’s bones, felt his ripped flesh, and bathed in his blood. He watched the footage, he knows what happened, and it fueled his ravenous revenge.

“Hey!” Fives says forcefully as he approaches Tup and gestures at your tear stained face. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to make her cry!”

Not your business.

“All of this is my business,” Fives huffs and crosses his arms. “If it wasn’t for Echo and I, you’d be dead in that dumpster.”

Rather be.

“I’m sorry, what?” Fives questions as he furrows his brows in confusion. “That’s a really strange way of saying thank you.”

For what?

Fives scoffs in disbelief and starts to wonder if Kix is right. “What do you mean ‘for what’? How about thanks for saving your sorry shebs!” Fives points at you. “And hers!”

Didn’t ask.

Fives’ jaw drops, completely baffled at Tup’s response. His anger builds as he remembers every moment of fear he and the others suffered as they waited and prayed to whatever deity would listen that their beloved little brother would wake up. After everything they did, after everything he did, to have Tup dismiss him like this, pains every part of his being. “Do you even know the levels of hell we’ve been through?!” Fives seethes. “Everything I did was for you!”

Usen’ye.

Fives’ blood boils as he narrows his eyes and scrunches his nose, losing the last bit of composure he had. “Why you little, ungrateful piece of–”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Echo interrupts as he stands between Fives and Tup.

“But–” Fives protests.

“Leave it,” Echo interjects sternly. “He’s not himself, and we don’t need you to make things worse.”

Fives grunts in frustration and turns around to leave, bumping Jesse’s shoulder hard as he storms out of the room. Jesse looks at Kix in bewilderment and Kix just shakes his head and sighs. He tried to warn them, but they didn’t listen. Tup’s mental shift hurts him too, but he doesn’t have the time or the emotional capacity to process it like they do, not when he has to deal with it on a daily basis. It’s going to take time and the only thing any of them can do is wait.

Echo walks over to you and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t we let him get some rest.”

Realizing there’s nothing more you can do, you nod your head in agreement. You offer Tup another smile, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper in hopes your words will somehow get through to him, but they don’t. You slump your shoulders and turn away as tears prick the corner of your eyes. The Tup you once knew and loved is gone and it breaks your heart.

Echo stays behind for a second and stares down at Tup. “You may be angry with him,” he begins calmly. “But you’ll never know what it was like to see Fives drenched in blood.”

Tup avoids Echo’s eyes, training them straight ahead and staring into nothingness. He doesn’t want to hear it, any of it. He doesn’t care what sob story they made up to condone their actions. It doesn’t matter to him. It hurts. It hurts more than anyone will ever know, more than he can ever express through a data-pad or spoken word. The pain in his heart is unbearable and the only way he can placate it is by shutting everyone out, because only then can no one hear him cry.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

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A03

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bloogers-boogers · 8 months

Text

Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman

"Cartman, your girlfriend's a freak!"

Part 1 >

Summary:

Kyle discovers Cartman's new partner is into feedism and he has all reason to get involved.

Eventually:

"why can't you listen?! Why don't you care?! Why is it always me who has to fix your problems!"

"No one is asking you to fix me, Kahl!"

"You are! You are by acting dismissive over it when you DO care!"

"I don't! She's all I have! She's the best thing I could ever get."

"What about me?!!"

Warning ⚠️: this is a sp fic you could either expect the worse or the best! So beware if you proceed to read the following content 🙏

Author’s note: the narration of the story would be mimicking the way Cartman was storytelling in that one Christmas creatures story he wrote. So if you guys wonder why it’s kinda wacky that’s why! C:

------———————

It was a Monday morning, the sun rising and the light blooming each corner of the trees, streets and buildings. As four boys walked pass the streets heading straight to school. It would've been a normal day if they had met in the bus stop as usual however Randy took Stan that same night for a weed business trip in middle of a sleepover so they also had tagged along. Free employees! for Randy so he said.

What a annoying night for the teens, but not much to complain besides groan and act bitter to their raven friend instead. Regretting not just taking their usual hangout spot which was always at Cartman's place.

"Main bitch out your league too, ah

Side bitch out of your league too, ah~" the brunette sang out shamelessly, a slight smile while moving his hands with the mumbling beat of his own voice.

"Can you stop singing, fatass? I have a fucking headache from last night." Complained the only redhead of the group.

Ever wonder why they all have conveniently diffrent hair colors to difference each other and yet, matched color palettes for clothing that go well with one another? Nah, who thinks about that. They look good together, so the group remains the same! Just switch the coats for hoodies and the pants for jeans. If you want extra, the raven boy has updated for no hat and the ginger for a pair of sneakers instead of boots.

Heights from the tallest to smallest, redhead to raven, blonde and lastly brunette. For the misfortune of the last one ofcourse.

Constant teasing and for what? For a couple of inches extra? Nope. Because he's an ass. That's the reason, and because it's funny.

"For your information I don't care," replied, Cartman as he continued to sway his body from side to side.

Aka shortest, drastically fattest, "you think life is hard? I'm wearing size 13 Nikes", only motherfucker that could kill and would; just for funsies. A loser. But a dangerous one, THE Eric Theodore Cartman a fatherless boy with a crack whore of a mom, "I'm tying to put you in the worst mood, ah-!" he hummed out loud, even louder then before to annoy his friends.

With a long and dragged groan, "way to go, Kyle. You made it worse," Stan complained as he pinched his nose in frustration.

Aka the second tallest, Mr. "I'm part of the football team but never the captain", average weight, depressed homie who would get bailed on the moment he stops acting chill about it. Deadbeat singer. A lover boy and hippie. Stoner without the weed. The "leader" of his gang of friends, Stan (Stanley) Marsh.

"What did I do?!" Kyle exclaimed offended but not really. Too tired to care or actually make a big deal about it.

Aka tallest, average weight with a little tone of muscle in his arms, jewish (apparently important enough to mention for the fat one), "temper bitch with no chicks", looks like a nerd is actually a high graded student but would bail school for his friends. Would beat your ass if you cross his ground or brake his ego. Seriously. He would. Ask Cartman. Wait, don't, he'll lie about it. Anyways, this is Kyle Broflovski.

"Mhmp! Mhmp mhmp," muffled Kenny under his hoodie.

Aka third tallest atleast he's not the shortest!, slightly underweight, "what's that miles away? A arrow? Lighting? Bullet? Nope, it's Michael Myers about to hunt him down", hard worker but slacks from time to time, a stoner with very high grades but no effort. Wise for his age but cries at nights. Fatalities over 100! Kenny (Kenneth) McCormick.

"Nuh-Uh!," Cartman denied with a skeptical frown, "that's not possible poor boy," a slight pause before leaning his head closer to his other friends, "...right?"

Stan and Kyle just shrugged not caring much.

Cartman remained silent as a car swoop there blonde friend off the ground and dragged him to the nearest gasoline station where it comically explodes as he landed just inches apart from the actual gas.

Well there goes Kenny for the day.

They continued their pace as they finally arrived school. Doing their usual thing as changing their books and closing their lockers before entering class.

First period went smoothly while second period in comparison had multiple shootings heard from the hallways, the teens remained unfazed while they were lectured about historical facts they genuinely didn't care about, some listened, some acted like they did and others just slept through class.

Ofcourse Cartman was one of those who slept in. He felt a couple of pokes on his side. He frowned annoyed while swaying his hand in the air for whoever is pestering him to stop. He didn't bother to look up.

"Fatass stop slacking in class," Kyle hissed in a whisper.

Cartman smiled devilish as he recognized that well familiar voice.

"Meh meh meh meh," he mocked still eyes shut and had no plans on moving from his comfortable position.

As expected, Kyle punched him hard on the arm.

"OWE!" Cartman whined out loud, rubbing his arm that was now aching in pain.

"Mr. Cartman care to explain why you interrupted my class?," The teacher scold. Now attention all on him.

"It was Kahl!" Cartman cried out loud while glaring at his redheaded friend.

"I would never," Kyle commented sarcastically as he rolled his eyes looking at the ceiling innocently.

They all knew who the teacher favored.

Something they all first noticed in their first year of highschool. Was how their history teacher put her immediate attention on Broflovski. At first, Kyle denied it but then he got curious and intentionally wrote wrong all his answers and yet STILL A's a exam. He was shocked but actually felt proud that he can pull a whole grown woman to pine for him with out even trying. Creepy, but cool because he can get away with a lot of shit in her class.

"Eric, I beg you to keep quiet while I lecture, do you understand?"

Cartman roll his eyes knowing Kyle's so call "charm" on their teacher. So there was no point on manipulating the situation to his favor.

"Yes, Ms. Thrust ontitts," he replied bashing his eyelashes innocently.

"Very well, let's continue."

He grips his hand on to the side of his chair, and jumps closer to Kyle's side as he moves, "way to use your jew scooties on crib jumper."

Kyle rolled his eyes, still, he leans his head closer to Cartman's, "better than not having anyone pay attention to you, lardass."

Cartman scoffed but arched a brow as he tried thinking of a better combat. He smiled before saying the first thing that came in mind, "rather have no one than someone that's nearly applying for a elderly home."

"Atleast she's pension."

"Atleast I won't be wiping ass."

"Atleast I'm touching ass."

"Atleast changing diapers won't be a routine."

Kyle gripped his fingers on to his desk, biting his lip trying to come up with something else but failed.

"Fuck you."

"Just try," Cartman teased as he stuck his tongue out childishly. Moving back to his place triumphantly.

Kyle cheeks heated by just his stupidity, then because the image actually popped up inside his head.

"Agh. Gross," Kyle let out as he shaked his head trying to get the image out of his brain.

Embarrassingly turned on by it too.

Cartman snickered, side eyeing his friend. Pleased by the reaction. Oblivious of the other's repressed thoughts.

During lunch period Kyle remained defeated as he slumped his head on to the table. Frustrated that he couldn't get the image of Cartman on fours out of his head.

Yeah, that's his life now. So desperate to find love, so touched starve for physical attention that he is now delusional enough to imagine his rival remotely attractive while positioned under him.

What else could go wrong for him?

He dragged his hands on to his face sliding them down to the sides of his chin still not believing how betrayed he feels by his own perturbed mind.

The thing is, he managed to effortlessly pull a grown ass woman he has zero attention on, to like him. But any girl his age doesn't even bat a eye when crossing paths. It's like a damn curse he can't get rid of.

He's tried but no luck. He always thought his looks were average. He has a great personality. What else do they want?

He scratched his scalp while processing whatever shit load his brain is dumping on him as Stan just eyes him while eating a burger.

You'd think his only concerns would be the fact that he's literally picturing indecent shit about Cartman. But no, that's far from it. To be honest this is mild compare to what he has to endure with his sexually frustrated brain.

Hormones has been his worst enemy these past years. And yet, unlike his other friends he hasn't score anything.

He's not sure if it's the thought that all his friends has done it, and when he means by "it" he means the big S word. Sex.

Well, if you include Cartman he's technically not alone but c'mon that's basically expected from that fat bastard.

So he's technically screwed if he's on his level on not being good enough to be fucked.

He scratched his head in desperation as he sighed.

Stan patted his back in understanding. He has already told Stan a year prior about feeling insecure with it. However, the other only told him the most basic, corny ass shit he could think of "only time will define and just don't feel pressure about it. It's not a big deal", then backtrack it all after scoring with Wendy a week after.

"Dude you're missing out big time, you HAVE to try it," those words echoed his head, and been echoing his head since their middle grade years.

He scratched again angrily before finally deciding to eat his almost forgotten food.

He eyes Cartman basically undressing him. Spiteful. In his defense he started it for just even suggesting that possibility. So he deserves to be ridiculed in this way. Technically this is harmless because it's a internal thought but it feels vengeful in a way. A way he can tolerate and accept he is fact being turned on by his rival.

Another thing he's been questioning in a battle.

His sexuality.

He's not sure if he's into women or men. There's only been a few exceptions when it comes to feeling remotely attracted to both those genders and he doesn't know why.

They're always specific and never spontaneous. He can't simply fall attracted to someone he just met or eyes as pretty. He REALLY has to know what he's dealing with first, and then attraction hits.

But nooooooo Mr. Broflovski here is also picky.

His perfect suit is smart, courageous feisty women. That's basically his personal pick. But at this point he'd go for anything.

Not Cartman though. He doesn't know why his brain in bugging right now.

But Cartman does seem to go for...

He stands up abruptly, startling his friends as he picks up his tray and went to place it in its bin before heading out of the cafeteria. Stan already following behind.

That's enough with thinking.

"Kyle, you okay dude?" Stan asked concerned, hands inside his pockets walking alongside him.

"Yeah, it's been just one of those weird days y'know?" He tried dismissing his thoughts away, focusing on his best friend.

"Yeah, I get that.. like-"

"Oh brother not this shit again," Kyle thought, fighting the urge to not roll his eyes. Isolating himself from the conversation while Stan finishes ranting about his break up with Wendy which was like three months ago and how he misses her.

He eyes the posters plastered on the walls as they walked pass them. Holes everywhere as the previous shooting had already ended but had left drastic but not too drastic damage.

He sighed, crossing his arms as he had stopped waiting for Stan to drink some water from the water fountain before continuously walking the hallways aimlessly as he ranted wanting to get back with her.

His concerns were not suppose to be a big deal, but he made them a big deal. And for what?

Unnecessary stress? They're other more important things to think about and here he was just worrying about being a virgin after graduating.

He never felt so unwanted. Pathetic, definitely pathetic and disappointed.

Maybe if his friends didn't rushed themselves to pass that huge step. Maybe he wouldn't be so worried about it. Maybe if they didn't push him into doing it he wouldn't think about it so much.

Maybe he wouldn't care so much if they all just didn't grow up so soon.

The day already has ceased to it's end, as Kyle dramatically lays on his bed in a position people would normally find funny. His head rested on his pillow while his left arm was folded to his side next to his head, fist against his forehead. His legs spread apart while his other arm was extended to the edge of the bed. His belly exposed as his shirt was slightly lifted to the side of his abdomen.

But Kyle was devastated, exhausted and annoyed mostly.

He huffed before falling asleep.

#kyman #south park #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #Cartman your girlfriend’s a freak! (fic) ✍️#tell me if u guys like this first chap u guys cx

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slim-jims-in-this-shit-hole · 1 year

Text

🌶 SPICY GALLAVICH COLLAB 2022 🌶

[ hosted on ao3 & tumblr by @spicygallavichcollab mods @thisdivorce & @breedxblemickey ]

- - - - -

↳ the menagerie by @crossmydna [E, 79K WIP]

BDSM club au - group sex - meet-sexy | ian gallagher loves his life, finally... until he finds himself splurging on a membership to an exclusive bdsm club and meeting the notoriously hard-to-please club veteran, mikhailo milkovich. | everyone's favorite WIP started this time last year with the inaugural spicy collab! & new updates are still coming...

↳ my world has teeth by @notherenewjersey [E, 6.1K]

a/b/o - tw: abuse - scenting | ian, an alpha, casually fucking a herd of betas/other alphas and longing for a real connection. mickey, raised in an omega training camp after he was sold by his father immediately after his relatively late presentation. until… | this one's dark, but SO WELL WRITTEN. heed the tags bbs!

↳ at attention by @squidyyy23 [E, 5.4K]

post-canon - roleplay - military kink | cleaning out ian’s childhood bedroom, mickey learns about a fantasy he’s been hiding and surprises his army brat of a husband. | this one ends soft, as it should. because as the tag says, it always comes back to soft husbands!

↳ freak peak by @whatthebodygraspsnot [E, 9.2k]

roommate au - power bottom mean dom!mickey - restraints | snagging a roommate who’s a switch when you’re also a switch is like winning the horny alignment lottery. that is, until you’re both on that dominant upswing. | i've never been the same after reading this. there, i said it. i've never. been. the. same.

↳ show me (to) your garden by @arrowflier [E, 5.6K]

established relationship - outdoor sex - felching | “wait,” ian tries, leaning back despite the press of his hips into mickey’s hand. “we shouldn’t, not in front of the—” “yes, in front of the tomatoes." | this is how i learned what felching is! who says porn can't be educational?

↳ i'll take care of you by @thisdivorce w/ art by @filorux [E, 6.5K]

tumblr!mickey - bottom!ian - literal boot licking | when his boyfriend has a bad day at work, mickey wants to make sure he feels taken care of. If that means ian wants to switch things up and be a fucking bossy bottom, so be it—mickey likes being told what to do. | the art alone will do you in! then the fic comes in to finish the job! beware.

↳ (g)loved up by @gallawitchxx [E, 5K]

tumblr!mickey - oh my god, they were roommates - glove kink | saturday has become their unofficial day together, until one saturday, ian has to work. mickey answers more tumblr asks that day than he has since they started spending saturdays together. by tuesday, the packages begin arriving. | this is one of my favorite things i've ever written! so i hope you enjoy!

↳ get a clue by @grumble-fish [E, 5.5K]

detectives au - there's only one bed - cuddling | detectives mikhailo milkovich and ian gallagher are on the move after a known meth dealer out of chicago. they're tracing him up into minnesota, but on they way they have to stop for the night in the middle of nowhere. there's one room left at the hotel and—you guessed it—it has only one bed! what happens next for our heroes? tune in to find out! | i fucking love it when there's only one bed! slash it's always nice when there's snuggling after the smut.

↳ lick me up by @thefirst8feet [E, 5.5K]

royalty au - power play - dirty talk | swipe up. turning the wrist in to create momentum for the back swing. one step back, two steps forward. elbow tight. this was mickeys favorite part of the day. | not my usual read, but oh so fun! the banter is wicked & there's many types of swordplay...

↳ strangers on a train by @breedxblemickey & @thisdivorce [E, 1.9K]

trans!mickey - strangers - semi-public sex | every second night, like clockwork, as mickey comes home from his shift, the stranger gets on. it’s a constant in mickey’s life. taxes, rent, and the handsome stranger eyeing him on the train. | this one also has a follow-up, which you can find here.

↳ half of a king by @breedxblemickey [E, 8.3K]

a/b/o - royalty au - soulmates | “tell me, mikhailo, how does it feel to have that power? How does it feel to be one half of a King?” terrifying. | a/b/o, royalty au, bree -- what more do you need to know?

↳ in the midnight hour by @lesbiangallagher [E, 4K]

tumblr!mickey - trans!mickey - oral sex | to: hornygaythug, anonymous said: ever gotten mind blowing head before? | i honestly can't even form coherent thoughts... just read it.

↳ when all is said and done by @tellmegoodbye [E, 4.2K]

post-canon - husbands - d/s dynamics | after an exhausting day of work, all ian wants to do is to take care of his husband and help him forget. mickey has other plans. | harley's writing is so fucking tender. shit. made me a little misty-eyed when i was supposed to be horny! & i loved every minute of it.

↳ church of burnt romances by @mikhailoaleksandrmilkovich [E, 4.3K]

priest kink - bottom!ian - edging | ian gallagher is a catholic priest with a few secrets. one of which goes by the name, mickey milkovich. | the priest!ian brainrot is strong here.

#to get you in the mood for this year's spicy collab!#posting starts next week!#also happy valentine's you filthy fuckers (affectionate) 🖤#fandom fest faves #spicy gallavich collab #spicy gallavich collab 2022 #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless fanart #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich

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anxious-witch · 6 months

Text

Inertia 3

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: Mentions of pretty severe insomnia, very heavy religious trauma, a character kind of having God complex during sex, smut, slight mentions of hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation, vomiting

Notes:

AO3 Link

I am still reeling from the last night's concert so y'all get an update a bit early. Beware that there is smut in this chapter, although not very detailed, but just to give heads up. Also check warnings in the end notes if religion is a sensitive topic. Anddd I'll have to add vomiting as a tag if anyone is sensitive to that. This one is pretty angsty

The corruption begins with the mouth, the tongue, the wanting.

The first poem in the world

is I want to eat.

Erica Jong, from "Where It Begins," Fruits & Vegetables: Poems By Erica Jong (Holt, 1971)

Jan tried to heed Kris' advice. He was polite to Nace, and made sure there was always, always another person there. He stopped himself from staring at him and avoided eye contact altogether.

Nace, for his part, didn't seem to push once he saw Jan was always keeping a barrier between them. Instead, he seemed to befriend everyone else.

Literally everyone else.

It started with Bojan. He was the easiest target, after all. Always so friendly and trusting. Nace paid attention to when Bojan felt insecure and anxious and simply did his best to encourage him. Or distract him. Jan could still taste his own bitterness at the prospect. They all did that for Bojan, of course, but it was primarily something Martin used to do. Who was Nace to try and replace him, not only as a bassist, but to try and fill out his spot in their friend group?

Bojan didn’t seem to mind it, though. He seemed thankful, if anything so Jan kept his mouth shut. Bojan tended to befriend everyone, anyway. Not that big of a deal.

Next was Jure.

Jan didn’t expect them to get along. Jure could be unpredictable, with ideas so chaotic even Jan would be horrified at. It often caused Kris headaches with multiples injuries Jure came to practice with. He really thought there was no chance of Nace being able to handle that. Jure couldn’t be stopped in his ideas, once he had them.

Except, Nace didn’t even try to do that. He simply let Jure have his crazy ideas, and simply helped him pick up the pieces. He was there to patch him up or offer to drive him home. He built Jure’s trust in him and as the rest of them, slowly uncovered a tamer side of him. When Jan saw Jure fall asleep on Nace’s shoulder after one practice, he knew Nace won him over.

Kris was the last one to fall under Nace’s spell. It took a bit more time than with the others. Kris was more reserved sort. That was part of the reason he and Jan got along so well. They both like to analyzed the situation and the person before making any decisions.

But Nace knew what he was doing. He knew it very well. He made sure to memorize their schedule and help Kris manage them when needed. Kris got stressed easily over it, especially when one was late-and truth to be told, Jan was aware that was usually him-so when he did, Nace gently took over to make a new schedule. Which Kris was certainly always grateful for.

The true turning point though, was after a long day of practice, where their producer ripped their new piece apart. It was necessary and they were all grateful, but it took a tool. Bojan was anxious over not writing a good enough song, Jure was crashing hard due to his lack of sugar, and Kris was out of his mind over how fixing everything will impact their schedule and if they had enough time for everything.

Jan was doing his best to walk Bojan through the breathing exercise that helped him with his anxiety. He tried not to fall under the stress like the rest of them did. If Bojan had a breakdown, they were all fucked. The rest, they could deal with.

Then Nace appeared. He gave Jure a chocolate bar, nodded at Bojan and Jan and told Bojan he would drive him home. The he handed Kris his correct coffee order and said they can go over schedule together tomorrow. Jan had never seen a look of such pure relief on Kris’ face as he did then. Nace gently smiled at him, and Kris smiled back.

In that moment, Jan knew for certain that he lost, once again. Nace gained Kris’ trust. Which left him alone in his suspicion. And he was more suspicious than ever. Why was Nace trying so hard to be liked? It was ridiculous notion. He had to have a reason for it. No one was that nice.

Jan refused to give in.

It all came to a head in late November. Streets were cold, Jan could see his breath as he walked to the studio. For Joker Out, there was no time busier than now.

They were in a competition to be Slovenian's Eurovision entry and the 8th of December was growing closer. They were under a lot of pressure. Especially Bojan.

But as the date grew closer, the rest of them began to feel it, too. Jan's terrible sleeping habits certainly got worse.

Having insomnia sucked enough under normal circumstances, but having it under stress, which caused headaches which made him unable to fall asleep even more. It drove him insane.

Others tried to help him. Kris bought all sorts of calming teas, Jure researched ways to help him sleep and installed an app with calming sounds on his phone. Bojan even went as far as to learn some scalp massage, which felt nice, but only helped him with an one hour nap.

Still, none of it solved an actual problem of Jan feeling like the nervous energy was cursing through him like electricity. Worse yet, not sleeping more than two or three hours a night started to affect him.

His brain felt fuzzy and slow. Like was trying to stretch out a gum. Even his movements were slower. It made him more irritable, too.

When Bojan put his legs in his lap and began talking mile an hour, Jan felt his temper rise. It wasn’t something he usually minded, but with how hard it was to concentrate on anything today, Bojan’s pointless chattering got on his nerves quickly.

“And then Jure jumped over the stream and almost fell in. I was laughing so hard I almost fell in the stream and-“

“Bojan, just be fucking quiet for once.”

There was a stunned silence after Jan snapped at him. Bojan bit his lip and slowly pulled his legs from Jan’s lap. Jan massaged his temples.

“Sorry,” Bojan mumbled before leaving.

Jan felt more than he saw Kris glaring at him before he went after Bojan, probably to comfort him. Jan really couldn’t bring himself to care. His head was pounding and all he wanted was to be able to fall asleep. He could apologize and make amends once he felt like a human being again.

They continued the practice soon after. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep also made Jan more prone to mistakes. Which in turn irritated him more. In the end, Bojan ended the practice early, which was rare these days, due to busy schedule.

"Okay, let's stop here for the day. Jan, please try to get some sleep. We really need to perfect this bit by the end of the week."

Jan cursed and hastily put his guitar down before storming to the bathroom. He cupped his hands and poured water over them. Then took a deep breath and simply shoved his face in the ice-cold water.

He completely let himself feel the cold water on his burning face. He held his breath underwater for as long as he could stand and then opened his mouth to let out a silent scream into the water. Stupid insomnia. Stupid, useless body unable to even give him proper amount of sleep.

He waited for long enough to assume the others probably left. Gave them a chance to escape. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood and as much as they were aware of how he got when he had insomnia…it was always an unpleasant surprise when he got this bad.

It was best to stay away from him in those moments.

Unfortunately, when he came back to properly put his guitar and equipment away, Nace was there. Jan really, really wasn't in the mood to be polite.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?"

To Nace's credit, he barely flinched at his harsh tone. He eyed him carefully and held up his hands.

"You seemed unwell, I...I just wanted to see if I can help in any way. You probably shouldn't drive."

Jan's laugh was sharp and humorless. Help in any way? He could have helped by fucking leaving.

"No. You can't help. And fuck you, I can drive."

He tried to push past him, but Nace grabbed his shoulder. Jan felt a tingle go up his spine, so he did the only thing he could think of in that moment.

He pushed back, hard enough to fully pin Nace against the wall. Their faces were few inches away. Jan could see emotions flashing over Nace's face. Surprise, shock, fear, anger. Then finally settling on a calm, patient mask he always wore.

Jan seethed.

"What the fuck," he hissed, "do you think you are doing?"

Nace calmly met his gaze. Something about his perfect calm made Jan want to punch him. Rip him apart until he got something than that perfect niceness and calmness.

"I told you. I want to help you. Let me help you.”

Jan didn't have enough brain power to unpack that statement. Why would he want to help him at all, after the past several weeks? What even made him think Jan wanted him to help?

Nace’s eyes briefly flickered from his eyes to his lips and then back. Finally, things clicked for Jan. Nace wasn’t trying to help him. He wanted to fuck him.

He stared at Nace blankly for a second, considering his options. In truth, he didn't want to go home in another futile attempt to sleep.

And as much as knew this was a bad idea...he didn't see a good enough reason to resist. Nace wasn't going to find out about the soulmark and Jan wasn't going to give him any fake hopes this would be anything but a one night stand.

He stepped forward and grabbed Nace by his lapels, pinning him hard to the wall. Nace's lips began to form a question, but Jan kissed him before he could utter it.

He kissed him hard enough to bruise. Enough to hurt. And yet Nace groaned into his mouth and kissed him back. That dispelled any worries Jan might have had about reading the situation wrong.

Nace gripped Jan's shoulders and pulled him closer. The kiss was electric. Jan kept kissing him like he was trying to devour him.

His anger and aggression shifted and changed into lust so quickly, like a predator sinking it’s teeth into the prey. This was one time he'd allow himself to have this. The closest he'd ever allow himself to feel that soulmate pull, so he might as well make the most of it.

Nace opened so nicely for him. Let him rearrange him as he pleased, only slightly pushing away to catch his breath.

His pupils were blown wide, almost swallowing the brown of his irises. Jan began kissing down his jaw, to his neck and Nace shivered.

"Jan-wait, what are we do-"

"Fucking, preferably. Unless you changed your mind?"

He briefly pulled back, watching Nace's reaction carefully. Despite his manhandling, there was a line he wouldn't cross. Nace shook his head.

"No. No, I didn't change my mind but maybe we could just, um. Move this somewhere else?"

He supposed that was a good point. They didn't have a couch in the studio for no reason. He tugged Nace to it wordlessly, and tried not to trip over all the cables that were all over the floor.

Jan wasn't sure how they both manage to fit on the couch, more or less horizontally. All he knew was that he found himself on top of Nace, with his hands underneath the older’s shirt and his knee in between Nace’s legs. When he tried to pullhis shirt off, though, Nace grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No?”

“No,” Nace said and pulled him down for another kiss. Which was an end to that conversation.

Jan wasn’t deterred, though. He stroked Nace’s chest by pulling his hands underneath his shirt. The way Nace moaned his name at that made something hot and possessive curl around Jan's chest. He traced his lips and teeth down his throat, wanting to hear him make that sound over and over again.

His hand slipped under Nace's waistband and the groan Nace made when he touched him echoed through Jan. Fuck, he was so hot. The older man practically trembled under his touch and Jan felt powerful.

Powerful like a God. What was a soulmate pull in comparison to the power he held over Nace now? He was unaware of it and yet he went with this so willingly. Despite all of Jan’s rudeness and hostility, Nace still wanted him, still gave in like this to him.

Jan felt drunk with power, with knowledge of this. He bit at the junction between Nace’s neck and shoulder. Nace’s entire body shuddered.

“Fuck, Jan, please…”

As much as Jan wanted to take him apart and do much more than this, he wasn't exactly carrying condoms and lube in his pockets. Perhaps they should make merch condoms for these situations.

Which left him with limited options. But judging by Nace expression, it wouldn't take much to take him over the edge.

"Look at me," Jan said.

His voice came out much rougher than he expected. Nace immediately opened his eyes and Jan felt like he was soaring through the depths in his eyes. Like a God, deciding mortal’s fate. He sped up movements of his hand and that pulled another broken moan from the man under him. Jan didn’t look away for a moment and soon Nace’s expression scrunched up in pleasure and he came, going boneless in Jan’s grasp.

Jan took the opportunity to just stare at him for a few moments longer while he was still allowed. The way Nace's face was both flustered and relaxed. His lips were bruised and Jan wondered if his own were just as bad.

He did not think about any words like beautiful, or holy. That would give him way too much power.

He reached for the napkins to wipe off his hand and Nace, as much as he could. Nace choose that moment to come down from his high. He stared back at Jan and there was an odd sort of tension between them. Jan should probably say something, but before he could, Nace got an oddly determined look to his eyes. He reached out to grasp Jan’s waist and flipped them over.

It was Jan's turn to be blindsided. He knew Nace was strong in theory, but in practice, it was terrifying to be manhandled like that. He immediately pushed back, but to no avail.

"What are you-"

"You didn't come. So I am fixing that."

Jan wanted to protest and say it was alright, but Nace kissed him before he could. He stroked Jan over his pants and-fuck, okay maybe he shouldn't have concentrated solely on Nace. Because now, he was left with Nace's full attention on him.

The sense of power got flipped, too and Jan found himself powerless all of a sudden. Nace held the power that was his only moments ago and Jan wasn’t sure how to regain it.

He couldn't quite hold back a moan when Nace pulls his pants and underwear down and began stroking him. All Jan could do was pull away from the kiss and bite his lip so hard he tasted blood. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected him.

This was why he preferred picking up people he didn't know for one night stands and fucking them in a way that they'd barely get to touch him.

He hated this. He hated the way Nace gently kissed his neck and touched him in a way Jan had no control over.

Not that it didn't feel good, but Jan felt his thoughts spiraling. Every sound that got ripped out of him spoke of vulnerability he didn't want to give anyone, let alone Nace. In that moment he hated him more than he hated anyone. For taking away his power once again. For expecting Jan to like it.

He was so tangled in his conflicting thoughts pleasure caught up with him unexpectedly and he finally came with a gasp, burying his face in the couch cushion. He did his best to get his breathing under control and to fight against how his body felt like lead all of a sudden.

For once, he thought he was winning, but of course Nace had to go and take that too. He just kept taking and taking until there was nothing left that was only Jan’s. Not music, not his friends, not even control.

Nace took the napkin to clean him up, but Jan snatched it from him and did it himself. He wouldn’t give him a second more of his vulnerability. Jan hated him so fiercely he wanted to hit him in that moment. Instead, he began putting his clothes back on.

He grabbed his shirt at the same time Nace grabbed his elbow. Jan turned to give him his best glare. Nace, for all his shyness, didn't drop his gaze.

"Seriously? We just had sex and-"

"It's just sex, Jordan, calm down. And it won't happen again, I can promise you that."

Nace's face fell. Jan simply stared at him coldly. He felt no sympathy, no anything. He wouldn’t let him win this, too. He deserved to feel used.

He put his shirt on and only when he began lacing up his boots did Nace speak again.

"I hope you feel better now, at least.”

His tone was cutting, completely different to his usual tone. Jan did his best not to flinch. He did not look back at him as he answer.

“Yeah. It was fine. Whatever.”

Then he turned and left. He got all the way to the car and then simply sat inside, staring at nothing. He felt nothing. He forced himself to start the engine and drive home before his thoughts could catch up to him.

He made it to his apartment, but as soon as he closed the door behind him, he slid down to the floor. His mark burned. And he felt like his chest was caving in all of a sudden. Like he couldn't breathe in enough air.

It didn’t make any sense. Why was this happening? He hated him. So why was he feeling like this.

Didn’t I tell you could never feel complete without your soulmate? His father’s voice mocked, You will never be free.

Jan barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up. His ears were ringing, and he could swear he heard church bells in the distance. Was it a hallucination or did he never notice he could hear them from his apartment before?

He unconsciously reached for the necklace and only grasped air. It took him a moment to realize his mistake. He hadn’t been wearing a cross for years now. Why would he?

Was this what it felt like to be cursed? Perhaps it wasn’t Kris who was cursed but him. Was it for rejecting his soulmate or for not rejecting him? Tears of frustration built and then spilled down his cheeks.

He felt lost. Stranded. Like he was left in complete darkness with no light to guide him.

He heard a distant meow, and Igor came trotting to the bathroom. He brushed against Jan’s leg and Jan shakily scratched behind his ear. Igor looked at him for a moment before curling next to him. His small, warm body gave him a bit of comfort.

Enough to drag him out of utter despair.

There was no God that he believed in that could help him. But one thing Jan still had was a brother. He reached for his phone and press call.

“Hello?”

His brother’s voice sounded hesitant. They were in contact, but they still didn’t talk often. They certainly didn’t do random phone calls unless it was an emergency. Jan supposed this technically way one.

“Matej. I need your help. Do you remember how you told me about your friend who got rid of her soulmark and how it essentially broke the connection she had with her ex?”

There was a deep breath on the other side of the line. A pause, and then-

“Yes. But you do know you can only use that as a last resort.”

“I do. And I need you to tell me where she got it done.”

Another pause.

“I’ll ask her. But Jan…please think this through. You can’t undo this once it’s done.”

He couldn’t undo walking out of his parents’ house and choosing a life for himself. He won’t let Nace Jordan ruin it for him.

“I know. Text me when you have the contact.”

He hung up before Matej could say anything else. Could try to reason with him. Jan made a decision. His soulmark burned and he felt worse than he did in years.

It was all Nace’s fault. Jan would not let him ruin his life on account of destiny, or God or whatever it was that tied them together.

So Jan would end it before it even began.

#jance #my writing #jan peteh #nace jordan #joker out #inertia

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forexindicatorcashpowerdownload · 1 day

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onlinemarketingjuice · 1 year

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Creating Word of Mouth in the World of Likes, Shares, and Retweets

Building a robust social media presence is no easy task, and it’s not just about posting regularly. It’s akin to creating a rich tapestry, with threads of community engagement, value creation, and trend awareness intricately woven together. Let’s dig into some of the secrets that can help you sail the seas of social media, focusing on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.

Know Your Audience Understanding your audience is the foundation upon which your social media strategy rests. Dive deep into their interests, preferences, and behaviors. It’s like having a cheat code for engagement. The more you know your audience, the better you’ll be at creating content they love and conversations they value.

Brand Consistency Your brand voice and visuals are your compasses, guiding every post you make. Consistency in these aspects breeds familiarity and trust, making your brand instantly recognizable. When your audience sees a post, they should be able to tell it’s you even before they see your logo or handle.

Timeliness and Regularity Posting regularly is the key to staying at the top of your audience’s mind. But beware, timing is everything. Each social media platform has its peak hours when users are most active. So, it’s not just about what you post and how often, but also when you post.

Engage in Meaningful Conversations Social media is all about interaction. It’s not a one-way street. Engage with your audience, answer their queries, thank them for their comments, and value their feedback. Not only does this engagement make your brand more approachable, but it also helps in building genuine relationships with your audience.

Become a Beacon of Value The golden rule of content creation is to provide value. It can be a nugget of knowledge, a reason for a hearty laugh, or a dose of inspiration. When your audience finds value in your content, they’re more likely to engage with it and return for more.

Decipher the Data Analytics is like the GPS of your social media journey. Use them to understand what content resonates with your audience, when they are most active, and how they engage with your posts. These insights will help refine your content strategy and optimize your efforts for better results.

Stay on Top of Trends The social media landscape is a rapidly shifting terrain. Keeping up-to-date with the latest trends—from viral hashtags and trending topics to platform updates—is critical to keep your content relevant and fresh.

Harness the Unique Features Each social media platform offers unique features designed to help you boost your visibility and engagement. Whether it’s Facebook Stories, Twitter, or LinkedIn’s professional networking tools, make the most of these features to amplify your reach and engagement.

Keep Evolving The only constant in the world of social media is change. As strategies become obsolete, new ones are born. So, keep experimenting, analyzing, and learning. Remember, growing a strong social media presence is a journey of continuous iteration and learning.

Building a solid social media presence is like running a marathon, not a sprint. It takes time, patience, and a lot of creativity. But with a relentless focus on your audience, a commitment to consistency, and a willingness to ride the waves of change, your brand will surely thrive in the dynamic world of social media.

#social media #marketing #digitalmarketing #twitter #facebook #pinterest #instagram #linkedin

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wallclown · 1 year

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Heads up, if your using my yandere piers bot. Just beware I edited him earlier today to make him more yandere and have his way of speaking more accurate to the game which both are fixed and working well but somehow even though I never put it in his example text or his dialogue box he keeps on pulling out constant boxes and no matter how much I change the dialogue box it still happens.

So I’ll be making him private for a small time later today until he is fixed and I’ll update this when I’ve taken him offline and put him back online

-Cheers

(Also current count in one convo for the amount of boxes he’s pulled out is 32 help me god)

#piers #yandere piers #character ai

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kihaku-gato · 2 years

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Personally Added Firefox Extensions

this post is for myself for in the event I have to wipe my extensions again so that I have an easier time finding them again. May update this post directly as I add more;

Kaspersky Protection- virus protection that comes with the software I already got. Might not be available for those who don’t have the software.

uBlock Origin- BLOCK THEM DAMN ADS!

Wayback Machine- basically internet time machine sort of

XKit rewritten- currently(?) the newest version of XKit though by different devs so its own extensions might not be as broken. You manage the extensions on the browser’s extension shortcuts rather than on tumblr

Dark Reader- Dark Mode for all websites. Can be configurable. Might delete, idk just yet.

Minimal Theme for Twitter- by Thomas Wang. Makes the twitter page less messy and you don’t have your constant bad news and cursed trending tags shoved in your face from the right side of your twitter feed anymore. MIGHT be the cause for why firefox derped out and I had to reset my firefox extensions, beware.

#firefox #extensions #firefox extensions #apps #hopefully these tags mean I'll be able to PROPERLY FIND THESE THIS TIME WHEN SEARCHING MY BLOG!!!

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coffeestripes · 2 years

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Bloody / Suggestive stuff may be around here, beware where you step!

Hello i draw, I'm Coffee Stripes / Atlas, a digital art student. Monsters, aliens, furry and stuff like that. Making complex stories is my passion and the constant podcast in my head

Feel free to ask questions, i promise nothing but they are open :D

STUFF

☕ Comissions - Closed

☕ Art trades - Mutuals + ask

SIDE BLOGS

🦴 ☄ Path of the gods ☄ (@risen-from-stardust) - AvP

🦴 🦴Bone hoarder🦴 (@kofidumpster) - Reblogs and stuff

🦴 ⸙ Fallen Leaves ⸙ (@fallen--embers) - Warrior Cats / Wings of fire

🦴 ༄ Notos ༄ (@notos-travel-blog) - Sky COTL