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icarryitin · 3 months

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Trade Deal

spencer reid/gn!reader

i started this bc i was ill and feeling sorry for myself and it turned into a very not to me not if it’s you kind of vibe, mostly bc i frankensteined a couple of my favourite translations of That Scene so they could have their own version🥰🥰

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: reader has a cold and all the grossness that comes with it, spencer is so Cute™️ it causes me physical pain

summary: In which Spencer Reid, known germaphobe, pretends he doesn’t know exactly how many pathogens have made their home in your sinuses.

It starts with a scratchy throat on a Tuesday morning.

You don’t think much of it, blame it on seasonal allergies, knock back a multivitamin - you’re not about to be bested by a cough of all things. That is, until it gets to Friday afternoon. You’re trying, you really are. Your immune system has other plans.

“You stay right there, Patient Zero.”

Rossi’s comment would be funny if you didn’t think that laughing might trigger a coughing fit that could very well be the end of you, right there in the doorway of Hotch’s office. That’d be one hell of an epitaph - too stubborn to take a sick day, choked to death in boss’s office. Hotch, at least, already seems to know why you’re hovering.

“I’m-“

“Going home, I hope.” He interrupts you with all the fondness of a concerned father. You don’t have the energy to argue, or to hold up an unaffected front. The men standing by the window soften a little as they watch you visibly deflate. Dave promises to send you his Nonna’s minestrone recipe, there’s nothing it can’t cure; right now, though, you’re only thinking about your bed.

The well wishes follow you through the bullpen, old wives tales and family cures that have never failed. JJ tells you to sweeten your tea with honey, Derek swears that a hot water bottle on your back will work magic. Even Emily pipes up from behind her germ shield, the folder held across her face so you can only see her eyes, and tells you to take a hot shower first thing in the morning - the steam will clear you out for the day. There’s a chorus of agreement, or disagreement you’re not sure. It’s a struggle to hear much over the cotton wool in your ears.

“We’ll see, with any luck I’ll die in my sleep. Love you!” You sniffle as you back out of the office, feeling all kinds of sorry for yourself, and determined to make it as far as you can without touching anything. Lest you actually start the next plague.

Spencer watches you go, shuffling backwards out of the office and turning towards the elevators. He’d elected not to add his own suggestions to the plethora of options supplied by the rest of the team. Unable to focus on much beyond just how tired you look. You’ve been fighting this thing all week, he’d passed over his own supply of hand sanitiser only that morning when you ran out. Ultimately, you put up a good fight, but there’s no cure for a virus. It just has to run its course. Just like his own feelings.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing a virus to whatever it is he feels for you. Has felt, will feel - if there’s an end to this tunnel, he can’t see it yet.

“What about you, Spence?”

JJ’s voice pulls him from his thoughts before he can start spiralling down that particular hole. It takes him a moment to recall what they’d been chattering about before your long overdue exit - drinks, right. Yeah, that’s not happening.

“I’m busy, actually.” He shrugs, content to miss out on one night in favour of the plan currently coming to fruition in his mind. They won’t miss him too much.

“Busy? You weren’t busy when we talked about it last week.” Emily makes no effort to conceal her surprise. To be fair to them, it’s not like him to blow them off. There’s just something that’s come up, something decidedly you shaped, that’s far more important.

“Yeah, I forgot. Sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t miss the look that JJ and Emily share, he doesn’t miss the eyebrow that Derek raises in his direction. He simply chooses to ignore them.

At least the walk to your apartment is short, there’s still heat leeching from the plastic bag around Spencer’s wrist as he fumbles with his keys. You’d given him a bright pink key cap, so he’d know which one was yours, as if he wouldn’t know anyway. Eidetic or not, that’s one he would have committed to memory. The excuse had been because he was helping you out whilst you were down an arm, takedown gone wrong, you’d dislocated your shoulder. And then you’d insisted he keep it, because someone should have your spare key, and he’s the least likely of the lot of you to lose it.

He thinks you might be asleep at first, open plan living area lit only by a salt lamp and a set of fairy lights draped over your kitchen window, it’s cosy. And then you appear in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a jewel toned blanket. The low light is forgiving, but Spencer would be able to spot the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Without his glasses.

“I brought noodles.” He says as he turns back to set the steaming bag on your kitchen counter.

“I’m so gross right now.” As if to demonstrate your point, another cough racks your body. You just about manage to catch it under the swathes of blanket clutched in your fingers, but at least he can’t claim you’re not truly disgusting in this moment.

“I don’t mind.”

You’re so set on denying him entry that you don’t even really register what he said - Spencer Reid doesn’t mind that you’re ill. He doesn’t mind. A younger, healthier version of you would swoon. You might anyway, although that’s probably the vertigo talking.

“You’ll get sick.” Your rebuttal is weak, resolve crumbling. Warm noodles do sound pretty good right now.

“Will you let me help you, please?” It’s the firmest he’s ever been with you. No room for argument, doctor’s orders. So you have to relent. Not that you have much of a choice, he’s already pottering about in your kitchen in search of bowls. As if he doesn’t remember where they are.

“Did you get me a number three?” Your voice is brighter than he’s heard it all week.

“With extra toppings, of course.”

And those extra toppings go down a treat, of course they do.

Spencer watches you carefully as you eat - usually he’d be a little more subtle about it, but there’s not a lot that could pull your attention away from the bowl in your hands. You’re cross legged on the couch, blanket bunched around your middle, happy as a clam. Something his mother would say. He wonders what else she might say, what she might think about the abandonment of his germaphobia. Convenient, probably. Diana would say it with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, the one that’s just for him. She has always liked you.

He promises he’ll be back tomorrow, once dishes are washed and leftovers are tucked neatly in your fridge, to make sure you get that hot shower Emily mentioned. The steam will definitely help, he’s read about it. Arguing with him would be pointless. You don’t have the energy, he’d only show up anyway, and it’s kind of nice to feel looked after. Spencer’s never failed to make you feel like that. You’re far too delirious to start thinking about that, not while he’s still standing in front of you at least. So you let him tuck you into bed, let him leave a glass of water on the table, let him dote. Pretending is a comfort when you feel as awful as you do. You’re already drifting off before he’s even ready to leave, content enough in your bed with the sound of him in the other room. Just, tinkering.

The sound of your front door opening rouses you the next morning, just about. Just enough to raise your head from your pillow and witness the sorry sight in your bedroom doorway.

Spencer’s trying - key word, trying - to suppress his sniffles, but the red rimmed eyes and tissue clutched in his fist give him away. It’s impossible to keep the sad little smile off of your face.

“Oh no.” You reach out a tired arm to pat the space beside you. There’s enough room for the two of you in amongst the blankets, and Spencer’s so far gone that he doesn’t even argue. His shoes and bag find a home at the foot of your bed as he lets himself collapse into the nest you’ve built. Tension leeches out of his body the moment he hits the mattress.

You have to lean across him to get your phone, right arm outstretched over his back - you can feel the heat rising off of him through his sweater and yours. Fever, that’s day two. Which means he spent yesterday evening taking care of you whilst he began to feel worse and worse. Softie.

“Egg or no egg?”

There’s an affirmative grunt from where his face is buried in your blankets. Egg it is, then. You dial the number mostly from memory, elbow still resting on his shoulder blade when you put the phone to your ear. You feel a little better than you did, but dragging yourself to the front door is still probably all you’ll be capable of today. At least you won’t be suffering alone. The line rings for a moment, then clicks, and a grainy hello sounds from the other side.

“Hi, can I place a breakfast order for delivery, please?”

i’m stuck on which chapter to work on next, do we want angst or yearning or fun flirty activities????🧡

#the canyouniverse #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #lou writes

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captinamericashusband · 29 days

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Juno | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Male!Reader (SMUT😉)

A/N: Wow another Steve Rogers fic. Anyways this one is smut. Also this is my first ever attempt at writing smut so it's going to be really bad. So enjoy!

Title and plot (loosely) based off of Sabrina Carpenter's new song (stream the album btw or else):

Juno

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: I might let you make me Juno 😉

Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex

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“And then he said to me, ‘How about you change your dentures!’” A chorus of laughter erupted from around the table. Among the voices and chuckles was Y/N, sporting a fake laugh to hide the pain he was currently feeling on the inside. He so badly wanted to leave, thinking that laughing at whatever he was presented with would help pass the night.

Y/N was an Avenger. He loved his job – no doubt. He loved being able to help people on a worldwide scale, and the overall idea of doing something that mattered. However, what Y/N didn’t realize was that the fine print of the Avenger’s contract included him forcefully being present at the annual U.S. Defence Symposium Convention, where diplomats and political leaders from around the globe gathered to discuss foreign affairs. While he never had to speak during these conventions, Y/N’s presence was required for Avengers PR reasons. Why it couldn’t be anyone else was a question he’d never find the answer to. Luckily for him, he wasn’t alone this year. Even better for him, he was with his lovely boyfriend.

Y/N glanced towards Steve at the other side of the circular table. Steve was already looking at him, wearing a similar bored expression. The two shared tired smiles. A positive that came with being Captain America’s boyfriend was intimate looks like these, shared across dinner tables, conference meetings, and other situations where they couldn’t be close. Looks and glances that made Y/N feel warm inside. No one else knew, even the team, of their clandestine relationship, afraid of the uproar that would come if it were to become public. The controversy that came with two of the United States’ defensive powerhouses dating – especially considering both were men – was something Y/N chose to think about rarely.

The senator continued his comedically-not-funny joke, and Y/N felt grey hairs growing. He knew he had to leave or he would’ve broken down in tears. As a guest speaker was about to be introduced, Y/N politely excused himself from the table and glanced towards Steve, his eyes already on him. He gave him a wink – a not-so-discrete signal they both came up with before arriving, loosely meaning, ‘I can’t handle this anymore and I need to get the fuck out of here – meet me in the bathroom.’

As he walked through the halls of the large venue, he marvelled at the grandness of the building where the convention was held. While he despised being there, he had to admit the building was architecturally and aesthetically pleasing, being more on the higher end of NYC establishments with its Art Deco-inspired assets. When Y/N made it to the bathroom, he checked beneath the stalls to see if anyone was present before letting out a loud groan. He knew he had to talk to Nick Fury later to discuss his supposedly mandatory attendance at the energy-draining convention. He couldn’t stand another second here. Leaning against the sink, he waited for Steve to arrive.

After about two minutes, the door to the washroom opened, and Y/N was met with Steve's presence. Steve raised his eyebrows, silently asking if anyone else was there, to which Y/N responded by shaking his head. “What did it, huh?” Steve asked, closing the door behind him.

“That geriatric senator, obviously – Senator Shortdick,” Y/N groaned. The senator’s name was actually in fact Dick – something Y/N’s immaturity found astoundingly hilarious. “His very long extended joke about…I don’t even know actually.”

“He was talking about his son, Y/N,” Steve said, walking closer to the other man. “It was a nice story – very wholesome.” When Steve reached Y/N, he wrapped his arms around his waist before giving him a small peck.

Y/N’s eyes met Steve’s, and they both gave each other reassuring smiles. They both desperately wanted to leave, but were aware they legally couldn’t.

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore, Steve,” Y/N’s voice whined, laying his head on Steve’s muscular chest, and caressing his sides. “I need something exciting.” Suddenly, as if he had an epiphany, Y/N conjured a devious idea to pass the time. Looking up at Steve, he gave him a half-lidded look, an action he did in jest whenever he wanted something from him. “We should fuck right now.”

Steve only responded with a bewildered look, slowly shaking his head and reprimanding Y/N’s unsavoury suggestion. “We can’t, Y/N,” he said. “It’s too risky. Not to mention, distasteful – we’re in public.” Steve was the more rational person in their relationship, often taking Y/N’s outrageous ideas to heed.

“Why not, Stevie?” Y/N’s voice feigned softness and seductivity. “Isn’t it exciting,” he started, arms sliding up Steve’s clothed bicep. “The idea of getting caught here.”

“Not really-.” Before Steve could continue, Y/N connected their lips. It started soft – short and sweet – before gradually getting more intense and feverish. Steve pushed the small of Y/N’s back closer, deepening the touch of their lips. Steve wanted Y/N badly, and Y/N was aware of that. He always knew that he had some type of figurative spell over Steve, causing him to be more acquiescent towards him than any other member of the team – even before they started dating. Steve was entirely bewitched by Y/N.

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The two eventually locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls, lips already connected and moving together hungrily. Both prayed no toilet would come beckoning some diplomat’s bladder amidst their carnal moment together. As they continued face-fucking each other, Y/N trailed his hands down towards Steve’s pantsuit. He palmed Steve’s already present bulge, rubbing it with the soles of his hand and causing a quiet whimper to leave Steve’s mouth. At hearing Steve’s sultry noise, Y/N felt his cock growing harder and heavier.

Y/N broke their lips’ ravenous movement and began unbuttoning Steve’s tux. “I saw you practically ogling me in there.” He bit one of Steve’s sensitive spots on his neck, eliciting a low groan from his throat. “It’s like you were begging to fuck me with your fuck-me eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve panted in response.

“Stay oblivious then, Stevie.” Y/N slipped Steve’s suit off, revealing his muscled buff chest. Not even a second later, Y/N’s mouth began trailing down Steve’s torso. He peppered kisses all over Steve’s chest, going further and further down until he was on his knees. Y/N came face-to-face with Steve’s growing bulge. He salivated, thinking about taking Steve’s entire cock in one go – the idea of hearing Steve’s whimpers made his dick even firmer.

Steve’s gaze was locked on Y/N. His eyes were half-closed, face flushed with both lust and pleasure. Y/N then unbuttoned Steve’s pants before taking them off which revealed Steve’s undergarments. Without sparing another moment, Y/N yanked Steve’s boxers off. Steve’s cock, upon being unclothed, sprung upwards and ached in the cold bathroom air. It begged for attention that Y/N’s mouth was more than willing to give. A slight droplet of precum was already at the slit which made Y/N even more aroused. Not wanting Steve to finish quickly (as if that is even a problem with his serum-induced stamina), Y/N started slow. He gave Steve’s shaft one long lick at the base, relishing the semi-salty taste. Y/N continued licking, throwing occasional glances towards Steve and how he was reacting. The quiet whimpering coming out of Steve’s mouth was evident he wanted – needed more. “Just please take it all, Y/N,” he quietly whined.

Y/N chuckled. He decided Steve had been good tonight and, sparing him from further punishment, took his entire cock in his mouth. A loud moan erupted from Steve to which he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth to silence. Y/N had to adjust to Steve’s size for a moment before doing anything further. Despite having done this several times, Y/N always thought Steve’s dick was maybe too big for him. This wasn’t that much of a problem for him as while he did struggle in throating it, it did make his ass feel good. And very sore afterwards. After a brief moment, Y/N began to slowly move his head up and down Steve’s cock. Steve struggled to quiet down his noises of pleasure as much as Y/N struggled trying not to choke. With each movement of Y/N’s head, Steve was hitting the back of his throat which sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. Steve, however, wanted much more.

To Y/N’s shock, Steve bundled his hands in his H/C locks and shoved him further down his throat. Y/N’s eyes went wide, gagging noises coming from his clogged mouth. Before Y/N could steady himself, Steve began ramming his throat at a rapid speed, his attempt to quiet himself vanishing as he prioritized quickly getting off with Y/N’s mouth. As Steve continued at his pace, he let out breathy moans that were amplified and reverbed by the bathroom’s walls. While Steve was in pure bliss at his cock being serviced, Y/N was not able to cope with the sudden change. His hands were placed on both of Steve’s thighs, trying to steady himself. Tears pricked near the corner of his eyes as his entire buccal cavity and throat continued being ransacked by Steve’s length. Each time Steve’s cock hit the rear of his throat, Steve shuddered and Y/N gagged loudly. As Steve began nearing his climax, he began to go even quicker than his initial speed, causing Y/N’s tears to freefall down his cheeks. With one loud grunt and a sloppy thrust, Steve came down Y/N’s throat. As Y/N felt the warm and salty fluid trail down his throat, Steve’s breaths became more shallow.

Steve leaned against the stall’s door, and a slick ‘pop’ sounded as he took his cock out of Y/N’s mouth. He was still recovering from his orgasm as Y/N quickly got up from his knees and roughly pushed his chest. “Dude!’ Y/N half-yelled. “What the fuck was that? You nearly killed me!”

Steve staggered slightly at Y/N’s hit. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression that quickly vanished upon seeing his tear-stained cheeks. An apologetic look promptly dawned. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine it’s just,” Y/N said while wiping his face, “you have to warn me first before you do that.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Steve did look remorseful. His face looked as if he had accidentally kicked a dog. “We should probably stop now.”

Y/N gave looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” He pointed sternly towards Steve, his voice coming out furious with a tinge of playfulness. “The only apology I’ll accept now is if you fuck me right here.”

“But, Y/N, I don’t have the…” Steve’s voice trailed off.

“The what, Steve?”

“You know,” Steve said, face slightly pink. “The wet thing and the rubber thing?”

An actual genuine look of bewilderment made its way onto Y/N’s face. “You mean condoms and lube?” Steve nodded shyly and Y/N began to laugh. “Steve, you just pounded my face in. Don’t give me any shit about you being too coy to say the words ‘condom’ and ‘lube’.” He then glanced down towards Steve’s penis which was already erect again. “Plus, your thing,” he continued, mocking Steve’s mannerisms, “still looks pretty wet from my spit. And as far as I remember, none of us have any diseases.” Y/N quickly looked towards Steve. “Right?” Steve nodded his head quickly, still too embarrassed to respond. Before Steve could do anything further, Y/N took his pants off alongside his underwear. “You’re already hard again, Steve. What are you gonna do 'bout it?”

Y/N’s teasing tone evoked Steve’s earlier confidence, leading to him hoisting Y/N around his waist, a quick yelp coming out of Y/N at the sudden movement. Before Y/N could say anything, Steve hastily prevented him by connecting their lips. Their tongues quickly tangled together, saliva combining and becoming indistinguishable from one another. “Steve, just put it in already, God.” Y/N’s voice came out breathy and unstable. Steve obeyed quicker than usual, seemingly eager to come a second time that night. Grabbing his cock with one hand and supporting Y/N with the other, he angled it towards Y/N's gaping hole. Without wasting any more time, Steve promptly thrust the entirety of his length inside of Y/N. A filthy ludicrous whine came from Y/N’s throat. His prostate was already being reached by Steve’s tip, causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head. He was euphoric and as Steve started moving, his speed matching that of earlier, Y/N felt like he ascended.

Steve was usually gentle whenever they had sex, but he decided to spare no mercy tonight. His thrusts were aggressive, leaving Y/N unable to handle the surplus of pleasure he was feeling. With each graze felt by his prostate, he was sent further into the heavenly bliss he felt. “H-have you seen that one movie,” Y/N said in between heavy pants. “Juno?” He knew it was a stupid question, both in the situation he asked it in, and how he knew Steve had barely seen anything made in the 21st century.

Steve continued thrusting into Y/N, the sound of their skin slapping reverberating around the room. “No – fuck,” Steve’s voice came out breathless. “What is that?” His face was contorting into different variations of lewd expressions, making Y/N’s hard-on even stiffer. It was rare to see the Captain America in such a vulnerable state, and Y/N savoured the fact he was the only person who was able to see him like this.

The pleasure Y/N felt inside of him was indescribable. Their fucking had never reached this level of catharsis. “Nothing – it doesn’t matter. Just keep going, Steve…please…” Y/N saw the little dribble of precum dripping from his cock. He was close. And Y/N knew Steve was too from how his pounds started becoming sloppier, and how his hands gripped his ass tighter. Their lips found each other again, and their tongues connected. Steve swallowed all of Y/N’s whimpers, biting his lower lip to prevent any would-be passersby from hearing his erotic gasps for air.

“I’m gonna come, Y/N,” Steve breathlessly spoke. His pacing started to decline, and his entire body trembled.

As Steve was about to endure another orgasm, Y/N saw him about to pull out. Suddenly, he protested with a hoarse sigh, “No, Steve, just finish inside me – it’s fine.” Steve nodded his head silently, not needing to be told twice. Their pants continued syncing together as Steve rode out his climax. Another load of his hot white cream exited him and filled Y/N to the brim. Shortly after Steve finished, Y/N felt his climax coming in. Steve continued floppily thrusting to aid in his release, soon releasing in thick ribbons that covered his and Steve’s chests.

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Steve gently collapsed both of their bodies on the ground. The pair were in a state of exhausted pleasure, their breaths still deep and frequent. It stayed this way for a few minutes – Steve and Y/N basking in the decline of their orgasms in a comfortable silence. Y/N glanced down towards his ass, a tad icked out by Steve’s jizz pouring out of him. “It’s kind of gross isn’t it,” he said to Steve.

Steve was broken out of his euphoric trance upon hearing Y/N’s voice. “What is?” He said, still catching his breath.

“Look,” Y/N signalled to his downward area. “It looks really strange.” The pair’s eyes met and they both erupted in boisterous laughter.

As they started quieting down from what they considered the funniest thing of that night, Steve suddenly remembered what Y/N asked earlier. “Hey, what was it with that movie you asked me about earlier.”

“Juno?” Y/N responded.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Y/N said, getting uncharacteristically shy. “I just thought…it’d be nice if we have kids one day.” Y/N then realized what he said and began doubling down. “I mean, that is if you want any with me at all – children I mean. A family.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Instead, he smiled at Y/N, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. Y/N responded by giving him a meek smile. They both were met with another silence, their love-laced gazes filling each other with a comforting warmth.

“How are we gonna get out of here, Steve?” Y/N’s voice came out softly, too absorbed in the moment to genuinely care about where they were.

“Now that is the predicament, isn’t it?” Steve said, reciprocating Y/N’s blissful voice.

Fortunately, it was evident that luck was on their side that night as no one had entered the bathroom at any point in their love-making.

FIN

A/N: My Google searches are legit “Synonyms for ‘cock’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms for ‘moaning’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms of ‘cum’ in fanfiction”, and “How to write smut properly.” Anyways, hope you enjoyed whatever that mess was!

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hitlikehammers · 7 months

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to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #falling in love #angst with a happy ending #(also oddly fluffy?)#presumed dead #(but obviously NOT)#happy ending #the black void place with the water on the floor is LIMBO #and they maybe kinda fall for each other in the space between life and death because OF COURSE THEY DO #and these boys are maybe kinda stuck there #steddielovemonth #love is a fire that never goes out #stranger things

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stubz · 8 months

Text

"Can't you cut it off?"

"No I can't cut it off Zyz because unlike you my leg can't grow back."

"Yeah Max is a mammal. We just have to wait till Friday and it'll be all better."

"It'll be longer than Friday Tarlax, it won't be completely better till after the tri-eclipse festival."

*chorus of what's, groans, and other disapproving children sounds*

"But that's...1..2..4..6...7 weeks!"

"I thought you said you weren't hurt that bad!"

"YOU ALREADY RESTED FOR A WEEK!!"

"Yes but it'll still take a while for me to be able to play with you guys again. Right now I'm only able to keep an eye on you kids and help Kim out with crafts and non-physical things."

"But when Pollix broke his arm he was all better in 2 weeks, and my uncle Fenrir broke his foot but he's all better after 10 days."

"Listen kids, humans take longer to heal than most other species. And until then I can't play with you or else my ankle will just get worse."

"But why can't-!"

"Please just one-"

"Maaxx-"

"Come on-!"

"ENOUGH!" having enough of the kids guilt and nag her injured co-worker on his first day back ran the the other human's patience dry.

"Max fractured, broke, his ankle and you want him to run on it? You want him to carry you all while just standing for too long hurts him? You want him to make his injury even worse so that he can play with you?"

complete silence

"After all Max has done for you kids and still you demand that he bends over backwards to entertain you...terrible behavior, I am disappointed in you, all of you."

"...Sorry Miss Kim."

"I'm not the one you kids should be apologizing to."

*chorus of small whispered apologies to Max*

"I forgive you, but like Kim I'm disappointed in you. Now everyone go get your snack."

"Kay what's eating you?"

"...I feel bad for yelling at the kids now."

"I know but you and I know that was necessary."

"Yeah but I still don't like it."

"Sorry for making you do that. I should've put my foot down and lectured them instead of you."

"Well...to be fair you couldn't without losing balance or wrecking your ankle even more."

"Ha. ha. very funny."

"MAX!!" screams dozen of children and younglings.

"Holy shit!"

"FuuuACK ...damnit my ankle..." his body forgot that even while scared he should not be jumping.

"We got you stuff to help you get better faster!" one by one the children handed the humans jars, wrapped up food, beverages, medicines, and many other things that helped one's health on their respective planet.

"Wow, this is so thoughtful kids. Thanks."

"And thanks to my uncle Fenrir I know how you can play with us but also catch up in case of emergencies."

"Oh really? Is it some kind of scooter--ho crap! THOR PUT ME DOWN!"

"Does it hurt?? Athea, Pollix, come on!"

"Waitwaitwaitwait!"

"There! Not only can you move faster, but also your taller and we get to train our stamina and endurance like any good warrior."

"Kim. Help. Me."

"Are you in pain?"

"...actually no...it's surprisingly comfortable."

"then what's wrong?"

"this is against protocol."

"Dude we have like zero protocol here when it comes to playtime."

"..."

"Your scared of heights?" they ask raising a brow.

"In my defense not many 6'3 men can be carried like this..."

"Well considering your only 2 feet higher now I say we call this your exposure therapy. Carry on kids, but don't run with him unless he says so."

"KIM! DON'T LEAVE ME! I WILL EXPOSURE THERAPY YOU TO SPIDERS IN YOUR SLEEP FOR THIS!!"

"No you won't! Your too nice plus to make things even the spider would have to be small and in a container."

#the adventures of kim and max running a space child centre #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #I fractured my ankle while playing grounders at work and am dreading the kids reactions to hearing that I won't be able to play with them #6-8 weeks for this thing to heal!#it was bad #I heard the bone crack #at least my boss gave me cookies and a get well card during the weekend #and I don't have to come into work right away

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fallen-angel-with-broken-halo · 3 months

Text

As a self-proclaimed fan of Epic: The Musical. Here's a breakdown of my thoughts on the newest saga! Spoilers for the Thunder Saga, obviously.

Love the melody on "Suffering." Especially the beginning. A lot about the song shows that something is off. The way the siren is trying to convince him to get in the water, to let her take away his suffering. In the meantime, Odysseus is manipulating her back, telling lies and letting her eat them up. Making her tell him how to avoid Poseidon is so obvious to the listener, but the siren was so oblivious. The almost playful banter is peak. (Her little "of course" and "oh no" kill me every time. It's so cute~)

"Different Beast" is INTENSE. The way Odysseus talks/sings shows how much his personality and behaviour changed in "Monster." The "we" changing to "he" in the chorus makes this all the more obvious. The sirens pleading for being spared, Odysseus showing no mercy because he was already hurt as a result of it before. He couldn't allow himself to make the same mistake. Ordering to kill them all while surrounded by screams... "He is the man-made monster." Love this double-entendre.

"Scylla" is gorgeous. And again, it's very telling about Odysseus and his mental state. First, we have Scylla coaxing Eurylochus to reveal his secret to further the roots of distrust within the crew and adding another reason for the later on betrayals. I find Odysseus saying that there's not much to say quite interesting but also again, showing how he truly felt. He was done. He just wanted to go home. Then there's her speaking to Odysseus. He knew that he wouldn't get out of there with everyone alive. And she knew that he knew. "Deep down, we only care for ourselves." That was a huge callout to Odysseus. He always acts like everything he does is for his son and wife, but in fact, that's very selfish when constantly facing foes with his crew. He prioritizes himself going home over others, allowing them to die. "Deep down, we're lonely demons from hell." That line has so many implications, not only calling back to Odysseus just recently leaving the Underworld, but also him becoming the monster. The lonely part has only gradually increased since the death of Polites, with everyone starting to turn on each other, which would culminate soon after this encounter. The final monologue of Scylla tells more about Odysseus than her, honestly. He had to both shed and be witness to the shedding of blood. He also had to give up his ideals so he could go home. They are the same. They both have hands bathed in blood, which reminds me of Odysseus singing in "Monster" about his foes and how they did not regret doing what they felt was right.

"Mutiny." Eurylochus had had enough of Odysseus prioritizing himself going home. He was not the only one who had something to say about it, however. The rest of the crew were also mad at Odysseus' willingness to trade their lives for his family. Odysseus didn't want to fight. He wanted to deescalate the conflict, but it was futile. Eurylochus was tired of suffering, people around him dying, awful living conditions, starvation. That essentially became the crews doom. The callbacks to "Just A Man" and "Luck Runs Out" in this one are painful. Also, the musical motif from "Survive" when Odysseus woke up and Eurylochus monologued! I don't know if there's an official name for it, but I adore it. Also, Eurylochus and Odysseus have pretty much switched roles in this one. Except in both cases, "Keep Your Friends Close" and "Mutiny," it was actually Eurylochus angering the gods. Another reason for what would happen in the next song.

"Thunder Bringer" is probably my favourite from the saga at the moment. The melody, Zeus' voice, the LYRICS! Personifying pride and constantly referring it to Odysseus, trying to uncover Odysseus' true nature by giving him the choice between his own life and his crew. Considering everything we know about his choices so far, we can easily agree with Zeus when he thinks Odysseus would choose himself. Every callback to the chorus of "Just A Man" hurts, and this one is no different, almost fighting against Penelope's voice. While the soldiers remind him that he's become the monster, his wife offers relief from the suffering. His choice is obvious. The countless betrayals, his tiredness from all the years of war and travel... All he wants is to be welcomed home with open arms (reference intended). But wow, the final exchange between Odysseus and Eurylochus- Odysseus sounds so damn desperate and scared, and Eurylochus resigned to his fate. The truth is revealed. "Deep down, I would trade the world to see my son and wife. I'm just a man."

#epic the musical #epic the thunder saga #jorge rivera herrans #rant #music ramblings #greek mythology #odyssey #odysseus #eurylochus

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pokemonshelterstories · 2 months

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Hi hello!

Houndoom was always one of my favorite Pokémon, and I'm currently doing research to see if the line is a good fit for me. To that end, might you have any pointers on keeping Houndour/Houndoom specifically?

the houndour line are interesting pokemon to keep! it can be done, but it's a lot more work than other canine pokemon. houndour, unlike the similarly-typed growlithe and maschiff, are not domesticated pokemon. they have some quirks that make keeping them tough.

the first step you need to take is checking if you can actually have a houndour where you're living. if you live in an apartment or belong to a housing association, they most likely have a ban on houndour. this is partly because undomesticated fire types are considered a moderate fire risk and thus are usually banned automatically, but it's also because the houndoor line is noisy. they have a complex system of communication consisting of dozens of unique vocalizations ranging from yips to howls, and much like a combusken cock, their favorite time to start up the chorus is at dawn. you're going to have to be okay with a lot of noise to raise them, and not everyone who lives near you is necessarily going to agree with that choice.

if you are able to keep one, then you need to do the typical fireproofing you would do for any fire type, and make sure it has a safe area where it can use its fire (they routinely flame themselves as a form of parasite control and coat maintenance). you then have to choose how many houndour you want to keep. houndour are pack pokemon and have high social needs, and it's not recommended to keep less than two at a time. some people keep a single houndour because they will bond very tightly to their trainer, and they claim it makes it easier to train them, but it results in other behavioral issues down the road. trying to be their only social structure at home is a bad idea.

getting your houndour from the right source is also really important, because they absolutely need to be raised with littermates so they can learn proper bite inhibition from each other. i've been around houndour that were allowed to bite in play, and i've still got the arm pain to show for it- that is not a bite you want to risk. if you get a weaned puppy, puppy socialization classes are a really good idea for these guys to help them get that social fulfillment.

make sure that you can meet their exercise needs, too. they're active mostly at dawn and dusk, and they're fast; they need plenty of heavy-duty fireproof chew toys and time to run around. this is part of why i don't recommending evolving them unless you have a battling team, because they really need to ability to go head to head with other pokemon once they evolve. it's part of establishing their social structure, and you don't want them to turn that need onto you.

they're definitely pokemon that take a lot of work and careful planning to keep! but they're also remarkably loyal, playful, and affectionate in the right circumstances. you just have to make sure you can provide an environment where they can show off their best qualities.

#charlietalks #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokemon behavior #pokemon care #houndour

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paper-mario-wiki · 8 months

Note

what's ur favorite erb?

i dont have "favorite" as much as i have "the ones i watch every now and again".

"Blackbeard vs Al Capone" i might just like the way EpicLloyd speaks as Capone, but i also cant help but be utterly entranced by a shouting match between to middle aged men who want the other one to be scared. Favorite verse: Capone 1 (of 2)

"Wonder Woman vs Stevie Wonder" although this one still has the signature simple and cheesy bar structure that ERB is known for, this is PEAK in terms of performers. nicepeter and epiclloyd (the main guys) are great, but after the first 30 videos it became very easy to detect their individual deliveries and cadences. t-pain is pretty iconic in his performance of stevie wonder. Favorite verse: Stevie 2 (of 3)

"Stephen King vs Edgar Allan Poe" watzky was unfortunately cursed by god to forever look like a little twerp, but he works with it really well and it fits very well for the real-life twerp that was Edgar Allan Poe. and zach sherwin is always a charismatic force to be reckoned with, his uniquely clever writing style and flow shining. Favorite verse: Stephen King 2 (of 2)

"Steven Spielberg vs Alfred Hitchcock" this one's just good fun. its a little battle royale among a bunch of really famous pop directors. i know that the character-appropriate cgi background is a staple of post-season-one ERB, but i really appreciate these ones specifically for some reason. Favorite verse: Alfred Hitchcock

"Kryptonite" this isnt an ERB and is in fact a completely unrelated normal rap song but i was listening to this one today. my oldest brother listened to a lot of rap when i was young and this one was one of his favorites. i remember listening to it all the time when he would drive me to blockbuster to rent gamecube games. i didnt listen to it for a few decades, but i looked it up on youtube a few weeks ago on a whim and i really liked it a lot. it's all about smoking weed which i love doing, and the chorus is really catchy, plus the instrumental is one of my favorites. Favorite verse: Big Boi 1 (verse 3)

"The Joker vs Pennwise" both rappers somehow look like different versions of matpat in heavy makeup, and joker works in a natural "we live in a society" which i like. i think that's all i got for this one. Favorite verse: Joker 3 (of 3, because this is the one with the we live in a society bar, but all of his bars were actually really solid)

"Tony Hawk vs Wayne Gretzky" another one for the "zach sherwin is one of the best thing ERB has" pile. he delivers in a quaint (if a bit cartoonish) canadian accent a scathing comparison between the actual real-life achievements and significance and skill between the two actual athletes. which i think is very spiritually fulfilling considering the name of the series. Favorite verse: Wayne Gretzky 2 (of 2)

"James Bond vs Austin Powers" might unfortunate austin only gets 1 verse because it's far and away the best part of this one. aside from a clever pussy eating joke near the end between the two feuding bonds. Favorite verse: Austin Powers

"Nice Peter vs EpicLLOYD 2" this is an actual real-life catharsis event between the main two artists behind ERB who seemingly put very real and deep-seated creative and personal frustrations they have with each other into their verses, plus a very real burnout over this series that they put all their money on being The Big One, creating a legitimately tense feeling in watching their performances. for reference, Peter rips on how Lloyd is an alcoholic and is unwilling to let the channel grow or change, and Lloyd talks about how Peter is obsessive and manipulative, referencing a real life issue involving a friend they fucked over in the separate video he appeared in. Favorite verse: Lloyd 1 (of ??? this one is almost a duet at times really)

"Babe Ruth vs Lance Armstrong" this one is specifically here because babe's second verse goes extremely hard in an almost uncharacteristic way for a series with very middling raps in general. Favorite verse: Babe Ruth 2 (of 2)

i could keep going i think but i just scrolled to the top of the list and my face flushed with embarrassment at how long its getting so im gonna end it there. you get the idea.

#anon

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sorchathered · 5 months

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Sweet Home Texas pt 1.

Summary- it’s here! Chapter one of my new series/ my submission for my birthday Rom-Com challenge! I am straying from the plot of Sweet Home Alabama a bit but I hope you all love it!

Pairing-Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin), Bradley Bradshaw x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin)

Warnings- language, drinking, eventual smut

Stepping out of her shitty rental car into the dimly lit honky tonk parking lot Ella Mccree can already feel the pain of a headache forming behind her eyes. She flew out from San Diego on a red eye to get to this shithole, filled with enough anger to fly the damn plane herself. She swore when she was here the last time that she would never set foot in this damn town again and yet here she is, pushing through the sweaty bodies of horn dog cowboys and navy pilots to find the bane of her existence.

He’s here of course, holding court by the pool tables, looking every bit the cocky asshole he presents himself to be. He’s always been a bit of a douche, that was part of his appeal; well until it wasn’t. She couldn't help the way her stomach flipped as she looked at him, the memories flooding her mind would make anyone blush. First kiss, first time, her first everything had been with Jake Seresin, he was supposed to be the only one, but that hadn’t worked out as planned. Nothing had where they were concerned.

She squared her shoulders, his pretty boy looks didn’t work on her anymore and she was here in this tacky bar for a reason, he wouldn’t distract her. In her ridiculously expensive pumps and form fitting black suit she marched over to him and dropped her briefcase in the middle of the pool table, a chorus of what the hells ringing out as she rounds on him, perfectly manicured finger poking him in the chest, shock clearly written all over his face before he schools his features. She’d caught him by surprise; good, maybe this time he’d actually listen.

“Jake! You stubborn redneck hick, I swear to God if I have to cut your damn hand off and sign these papers myself I will.” If he was phased by her colorful vocabulary he didn’t show it, simply throwing back the rest of his beer and sitting it on the corner of the nearest table as he looked her over, the mischief in his eyes evident in his gaze.

“Hey baby, it’s been a while. How’re things at home?” He said with a grin, knowing it would absolutely irritate the shit out of her, he loved riling her up, it was almost like he had a death wish sometimes but then again being an ex fighter pilot just confirmed that.

“Hey. Baby?! Are you kidding me right now?! Oooh!! You are the most annoying person on the planet!” She said shaking her head jerkily and balling her hands into fists, she needed to get it together. There was a reason to be here, get it done and get the hell out of this town, don’t let him distract you Ella you’re better than this.

Someone behind her said something to the extent of damn I like this girl and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a brunette woman sending impressed looks her way. Well at least someone was entertained, she thought.

She leaned across him to grab the papers from her briefcase, his body stiffening under her and she knew despite his cool exterior she had him rattled. She ran a hand across his uniform top, noticing the falter in his grin as he blinked at her and slammed the stack of papers into his chest.

“I have sent these damn papers through your lawyer 4 times in the past 6 months and they keep coming back unsigned, if you are so incompetent that you can’t use a pen, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to fly a jet, given your lack of a brain. Sign the damn papers Jake, it’s been 3 years. You very clearly aren’t interested in being a husband so why the hell won't you just divorce me?”

Everyone around them seems to go quiet at this, none of his coworkers even knew he had been in a serious relationship, let alone married.

He sticks a toothpick between his lips and pretends to mull over her words as she taps her heel on the sticky bar floor. She already knows what he’s going to say, the same bullshit line he’s given her their entire life. “You know damn well why Ella Bella, because I promised to love you til the day you die and as far as I can tell you’re still breathin’ so we’re still married.”

She rakes a hand through her wavy red hair and gives him a look that could burn the world down. “If I could go back knowing what I know now I’d have never made that damn promise. Stop holding me hostage and sign the damn papers, I’m not leaving town until you do.” She yanks up her bag and stomps out towards the exit, everyone in the group parting like the Red Sea to let her out. Meanwhile Jake still seems cool as a cucumber, completely unbothered as he lines up his next shot and chuckles as he watches her walk out of the bar.

“Uh you planning on giving us an explanation Hangman?” Natasha Trace is the first to speak up, she does enjoy seeing him brought down a peg from time to time but she’s pretty sure she’s seen him more upset over what was for lunch at the dining facility than he is right now.

“Oh that? Eh she’ll be alright, Ella is all bark and no bite. She knows how much I love her, just gotta remind her is all, she and I will be just fine when she comes to her senses.” He seems awfully sure of himself, but she’d noticed something he clearly didn’t. A big ass diamond ring on her ring finger, no wedding band in sight. She has a thought to say something but thinks better of it; let him crash and burn all on his own and maybe invite the girl out for lunch and some gossip if she can find out her number. Jake’s hometown is just a few miles out from the Kingsville Navy base they’re stationed at, maybe an old friend of his has her info, she files that away for tomorrow’s problems and grabs another drink.

Ella is heated, she clumsily fumbles her keys by her car door as she curses, she knew he wouldn’t go for it but damnit if she didn’t hope he’d come to his senses. They’d been split for almost three years?! What was keeping him from letting her go? Pride? Idiocy?! She didn’t have time for this, she had plans of her own and they didn’t include begging her delusional husband for a divorce for the millionth time.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket as she finally got the car unlocked and settled into the seat. She heaved a sigh out and put on her brightest smile, answering the face time call with fake enthusiasm.

“Well? How’d he take it?” the raspy voice on the other side of the line says, tan skin and bronze hair and those puppy dog eyes she loves so much gazes at her over the screen, and he can tell she’s pissed. “About as well as I thought. I’m gonna be here a few more days I reckon, maybe I can get one of them to get him to pull his head out of his ass, because it definitely didn’t work like I hoped.” She says the last words with a waver in her voice, she hates that she’s tearing up over this.

Bradley Bradshaw sighs over the screen and runs his hand over his face, he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. “Need me to come down there? I can hop a flight? We can order a pizza and get trashed.”

As good as that sounds, his presence would only make it worse, and they both know it.

“No baby, it’s ok. I’ll see you soon alright? I just need to go to my hotel and sleep, I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe call Natasha and see if she can help me with some intel though? She seemed pretty interested in what was going on, and might be an ally.”

He knows Natasha Trace well, and she definitely would be very helpful if he asked, so he nods his head in agreement and ends the call with I love yous and promises of a back rub when she gets home.

He knows the bomb that’s going to go off as soon as Seresin finds out everything, but he also knows the real reason Jake won’t give Ella what she wants. It’s guilt plain and simple, and Bradley isn’t interested in watching his fiancée get hurt by his former rival anymore. Only Ella knows the whole truth, but are either men ready for it?

A/N- this is gonna be a doozy y’all, prepare for these three to be put through the ringer! Next week we’ll get some more on Jake and Ella’s backstory and why they fell apart, hope you enjoyed chapter one!

🏷️ tagging- @attapullman @seitmai @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @jessicab1991 @roosterforme @bradshawssugarbaby @mynameismckenziemae

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fanfiction #sweet home Alabama au #sorchasromcombirthdaycelly

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theophagie · 2 months

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Re: Stolas' acting/performance in All 2 You. Something else that's. admittedly very blatant and shouldn't need to be pointed out but some people's comments keep proving that We Live In A Society. is how language is used in this song......

Verosika does want to help him feel better, so she's being genuine when she essentially tells him to let it all out, but she's also taking it for granted that he'll indulge the spirit of the party, that he'll provide them with a story, with more things about Blitz that they can all bond and get angry over. Because that's what their crowd usually does: everyone meets up, they find community and be resentful together, and then they try to take one another's mind off it all

But Stolas doesn't get up there and starts recounting his whole story with this goddamn piece of shit who keeps screwing people over, he doesn't list out Blitz's flaws or mistakes to entertain and bond with these people over their shared pain, and most importantly - the point I wanted to get at - his attention is focused on Blitz as a person, whom he directly addresses all throughout the song. His verses are all about you, you, you, what I feel about you, what you could tell me... (and the crowd is visibly unhappy about it too! Complex feelings, at my misery party, the horror!!)

Where are the exceptions, when is Blitz addressed in third person? In the chorus, rightttt. Who's the chorus first introduced by again? By literally walking into frame and then taking Stolas' place under the spotlight?

Huh!

Where else is Blitz addressed indirectly? Maybe to shut down Stolas's self reflection because we cannot allow ourselves to think that maybe the motherfucker is actually a complex person and that behaviors and relationships are influenced by a multitude of factors?

Huh!! Funny that!!!

Tldr. Storytelling!! The difference between talking to someone and talking about someone (whether they're physically present or not)!!! Woohoo!!!!

#helluva boss #stolitz #series #mytext #been meaning to add this to that post for a while so. i shall do it now

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writing-whump · 16 days

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Hector fic with Isaiah caretaker

Missing their brotherly love

Awww. This came at the perfect moment, nonny! Very very sick Hector from the seawater plus Isaiah. I struggled with this continuation for two days, then scrapped it and wrote it from the beginning and now I think it finally works, lol

Seawater part 2

"Isaiah. Isaiah, wake up."

Isaiah groaned, opening one eye at Matthew shaking his shoulder lightly. "Hmmm?"

"Stop playing a vampire. Up with you."

"Is something wrong?" Cowebs of sleep were slowing down his thoughts. Between training and afternoon, he slept like a dead, that was true. It helped him function for the rest of the time like he was fine.

Then again, Matthew wouldn't disturb him if it wasn't something serious.

"Go check on your brothers. Hector's sick as heck."

Yep, that was like a bucket of cold water, washing the cobwebs away. Isaiah sat up, kneading at his forehead. "What do you mean sick? What happened?"

Matthew shrugged, crossing his arms on his chest. "Threw up all over the hall, that's what happened. All seawater too. Think he drowned himself in a hissy fit or something."

"Seawater..."

"Yeah. I cleaned it up, just so you know."

Isaiah got up from the bed to change his lose shirt into a more formal short-sleeved button up and pants. "Did he ask for me?" he said hopefully.

"Nope." Matthew grinned. "Asked me not to get you, actually." He sounded terribly happy with himself for doing the exact opposite.

Isaiah shook his head. "Alright. Thank you." In that moment Isaiah was incredibly grateful Matthew was his second and would always be in his corner. Nobody else's.

...

Hector was pretty sure this was what rock bottom felt like.

He was heaving over the toilet for the umpteenth time, thick gushes of seawater shooting out of him like someone opened a damn faucet. Although that must have been the 8th time he was puking, his stomach still felt all bubbly and distended, firm to the touch.

He felt so incredibly full. The stupid water didn't seem to want to stop—he couldn't remember drinking as much of that damn thing as was coming back.

His mouth tasted bitter and salty, and he wasn't sure if his voice was shot from the salt or the repeated vomiting of it. Even worse was the constant thirst. He felt so thirsty his eyes and tongue burned, but he also couldn't phantom putting anything in his stomach.

It was as swollen ball of swirling cramps and misery. It hurt to touch, to not touch, to lean against anything.

Oh and the killer headache he was developing, that was fun too. Hector rarely got headaches, they were always somehow relegated to his youngest brother. Must have been from the dehydrayation.

He would have loved to drink so much, but the mere idea had him retching violently over the toilet again to the point he was seeing starts.

"Okay, just get it up, it's okay," Arnie said in a frantic voice that told him it was everything but okay. The younger blonde crouched beside Hector, one hand braced on his heaving brother's back, the other scrolling through Google articles about seawater poisoning.

Google to the rescue for real.

Hector spat a tangly bit of saliva into the toilet. It was just cloudy whirling seawater. He flushed the toilet and slumped back against the wall. A woozy feeling was joining the chorus of pains, the cold titles of the tiny apartment's bathroom digging into his knees.

His vision was swimming in and out of focus. Was he still at sea? His stomach was somersaulting like on a damn boat.

"This is good Hex. Your body will get rid of the salt and then you will make up for it with proper water and you'll be okay," Arnie said, hand patting Hector's cheek. "Just don't go passing out on me, deal?"

Hector forced his eyes open and snorted, the sound reverberating in his chest like a bullet. "Not passing out. 's fine, pipsquak. I'm fine."

His stomach muscles convulsed again and he struggled to keep the grimace off his face.

Arnie winced, attuned to his breathing. His hand landed on Hector's elbow as he helped him lean over the toilet again. Just in time for Hector's stomach to wring itself out of his throat, the splash echoing over the room.

Hector heaved several more times on empty, feeling the water swirl in his stomach, fighting for freedom. Or maybe just inflamming everything it touched for good measure. "Damn thing...w-won't stop..."

Arnie lifted himself on his knees to rub Hector's back, a steady presence. His worry warmed Hector up, gave him something to focus on. It helped with the panicky feeling rising in his chest as goosebumps rose on his arms.

The nausea was always there, horrible, higher than he ever felt before. He constantly felt like he could throw up, jaw tingling with it.

His stomach cramped fiercely, and Hector doubled over with a groan, falling into Arnie. The younger boy squealed, almost toppling under Hector's weight. "You can't even hold your head up anymore...we need to get you into bed-"

"God, my stomach...." Hector was way beyond caring what he was saying. The way his belly seized drowned out anything else. He curled up on the floor around his middle, moaning as his overfull insides tried to tear themselves in two.

"I got him," came a sudden voice. Another pair of hands was on Hector's back, massaging into the center of the tightly locked muscles. His body convulsed on the floor, his head almost bumping into the toilet tank, wasn't it for someone's palm on his forehead suddenly softening the impact.

"-Arnie, we need something to rehydrate him quickly-"

"-won't keep anything down! He retches every two fucking minutes, I don't know-"

The voices mixed, rose and fell with emotion but Hector couldn't tell them apart. It felt like his head was underwater, everything muffled by bubbles, and blood was rushing in his ears.

He recognized words like "pharmacy," "taxi," and "take Matthew." On some level, he could still perceive Arnie's voice jumping in worry and another calmer voice with an almost commanding presence saying something back.

The floor shifted under him and then fell away with a terrible sinking feeling. Hector struggled against the weird sensation, someone's arm around his back, hoisting him up. It was too quick, too unexpected. His belly cramped and sent out a new fountain of seawater. He felt like a water ballon toy squished in the middle.

"Hang on, buddy, hang on. It will be over in a second."

The temperatures changed as did the light, but his vision was still out. He could only see from behind his eyelids, eyes squeezed shut against the wave of vertigo and nausea clawing his mouth open at every turn.

He felt something soft underneath as he was lowered onto the bed, almost melting at the contact. That felt so much better than the hard floor. Before he could find his bearings, a gross feeling drove his teeth apart as yet another watery puke sprayed out.

Hands on his back again. Lifting him up on his side just enough so he could puke into something with a plastic bottom, the water splashing loudly against it. "There you go. It's okay, just breathe. Breathe, Hex."

It was a good tip since his throat burned with the rest of the salty contents. Hector took a breath, feeling like drowning all over again. He had to cough to clear his throat, but once he was breathing, he went completely limp against the pillow, exhausted.

It felt like he was asleep for entire two minutes, when he woke up again. He blinked his eyes open against, the offending afternoon sunlight. His mouth still felt terrible, his throat ached from thrist...the nausea was still there, high and horrible, but he could sleep through it, he would love to sleep through it...

A piercing cramp, like a knife to the stomach made him distinctly aware why he woke up. He shifted, trapped underneath the blankets, to curl up on his side, a whole-bodied shiver of revulsion shaking him from head to toe.

"You awake? Hey, bud." A hand on his arm, stroking small circles. He recognized the voice with a wince.

"Zaya...?"

"Yeah, right here. Welcome back to the land of the living." There was a smile in his tone, but with an edge of artificial lightness.

Hector forced himself to roll on his back to see and indeed, Isaiah was there, sitting against the wall on top of the blankets. All in black to keep in style, his hand still on Hector's shoulder, going with his movement.

Hector squinted his eyes, his head was hammering away with every breath he took.

Something about the sight of his oldest brother with that calm expression, only a gentle frown and the focused calmness of his eyes had Hector's insides twisting.

This was Isaiah's crisis face, the one when he was being attacked. When something was hurting. As if Hector's state could do that to him.

His breath hitched and he retched right there in bed. Isaiah grabbed the bowl near his leg with lightning speed, lifting Hector up into a sitting position.

Hector struggled over the bowl, stomach muscles spasming and burning with the exertion, but only a dribble of foamy bile came up.

"There, there. I know this sucks, but you are going to be okay," Isaiah said, patting his back gently while he put the bowl away again.

Hector wanted to laugh at the tone, the expression, the fussing. The exhaustion and nausea morphed into an intense, unexplainable stabbing in his gut. It came from deeper than his stomach, like it was stringing a cord all the way from his core. It caused an entirely different reaction than he expected.

He burst into tears.

Folding over himself, he was sobbing over his lap. He was just so tired of it all. He wasn't sure why he was sobbing, the pressure in his temples increasing all the more. His pulse quicked, his body protesting and struggling to give the last drops of liquid left to the few tiny tears that burned his eyes.

"Oh god, Hex, are you crying?" Isaiah pulled him into his lap, arms encircling him immediately. "You feel really rough, huh?"

"S-sorry, I'm sorry," he hiccuped, whole jest jostling with the force.

"Shhh, it's okay. You can cry all you want, it's fine. It's just me." Isaiah pressed him against his stomach, hand carding through the sweaty mess of his curly hair.

And Hector just gave in to the feeling. Being held like this, falling apart this thoroughly...he was shaking and tired and hurting and Isaiah was right there, where he needed him. He wrapped his hands around Isaiah like he wanted to physically stop him from ever moving again.

When the shaking sobs brought up a couple of burps, Isaiah didn't even flinch, just held him tighter. Hector was basically drooling in his lap, but the other wolf said nothing, cold fingers sliding to his cheek, his neck, shushing him like a child.

"Okay. We are okay. I'm right here. Everything will be alright," Isaiah chanted quietly in his ears, rocking back and forth. And Hector let go, losing himself in the reassurance.

#sickfic #emeto #emeto writing #vomiting #hurt/comfort #bromance #whump #werewolf wip #emotional comfort #my writing #Hector #honestly I wanted them to talk but they fought me XD they are not ready yet #but important things do happen through this too so...

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cornchrunchie · 11 months

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Okay, at this point, I'm not even sure what to think of my own theories anymore and if this makes any sense AT ALL but WHAT IF

What if Aziraphale not only was very aware of how much the words “I forgive you” after the kiss would hurt Crowley but WANTED his words to hurt Crowley – to make it easier for both of them to leave.

Let me elaborate. Gifs inclusive!

I was just listening to the song “Hot Mess” by dodie and one part of the chorus especially struck me:

Make it ugly, put on a show Hack it that I hate you so that I can let go

Essentially, it’s about how the narrative voice of the song is trying to hate their partner in order to let them go. The idea behind this is that if the breakup is worse than it needs to be – i.e. if one person is being tricked into hating the other person – it’s easier for them to stop loving them.

What if Aziraphale is doing this to his relationship with Crowley?

We know (thanks to Rob Wilkins) that, after the kiss, Aziraphale is trying to comprehend what's happening and that he wants Crowley to do it again.

But he doesn't say any of that.

In this 10-second-long eternity after the kiss, Aziraphale is clearly struggling for words. He is not even looking at Crowley but focused on an undefined point in front of him as if he can't bear to meet his gaze just yet. He is completely overwhelmed.

When he dares to look up, he takes one deep breath. Of course, we can only speculate what is going through his mind. For the sake of this meta, I'm going to propose the theory that at this moment, Aziraphale realizes how hopeless their situation actually is.

Their love for each other is undeniable. Both of them said that they wanted to be together, even if they used different words to describe their desire. But while Crowley wants to fight their battle against Armageddon from the outside, Aziraphale wants to change Heaven's system from the inside. And behind these approaches lie such deep-rooted beliefs about, well, everything, that they pose an obstacle they can't overcome. Not yet. Not through running off together. Not even if their love is 6000 years deep. It's the epitome of tragedy, really.

Aziraphale knows this. He knows that in this situation, this will only hurt more the further they go. So he takes a deep breath. And he decides to do the excruciating thing neither of them wants to do but that needs to be done:

He ends it.

Aziraphale knows about the harmfulness of his words – these specific words of all the things he could have said or done. Even as he is saying them, he looks as if it physically hurts him to do so. His eyes seem to be full of pain, maybe even regret. But how else will he convince Crowley to do what he can't, how else will he make him let go?

When Crowley leaves, Aziraphale doesn't attempt to stop him again. No matter how plainly this breaks his heart, no matter how he's barely holding himself together. He lets him go.

In German, there is a saying that could literally be translated to: It's better to have an end with terror than to have terror without an end (Besser ein Ende mit Schrecken als ein Schrecken ohne Ende). I think it fits this particular reading of the scene quite well. In Aziraphale's mind, their relationship would result in such agony that they would hurt even more. By ending their relationship before it has even begun, he is trying to protect both of them – making the pain great but definite instead of ongoing.

Does that sound plausible to anyone?

I myself am still quite unsure how to feel about this interpretation of Aziraphale's reaction, so I would love to hear some thoughts on it! <3

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aristocratic-otter · 18 days

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Thank you to the people who don’t forget me when I’m gone for weeks (and I think there’s more, I noticed @moodandmist tagged me when I was scrolling Tumblr earlier, but I didn't get the notif. It’s this damn “only five tags” issue on Tumblr. So if I’m not mentioning getting your tags, that’s probably why) : @monbons, @rimeswithpurple, @artsyunderstudy, @roomwithanopenfire,

@best--dress, @whatevertheweather,

@noblecorgi, @alexalexinii, @hushed-chorus, @larkral, @nausikaaa,

@blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla, @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold.

It’s been a really rough start to the work year, and this was the first weekend in a while I got significant words written. And, as always, I can count to six, but I just don’t care. So here you go, some amount of sentences from each of my current fics :)

From Saving Simon Snow

My wings are slapping gracelessly at the air as I climb. They burn. The air is thin this high, there’s not as much for my wings to catch on, to push me higher. I force them to pump harder. I’ve got to get away or I’ll go off.

But I can’t go off.

The feeling bubbling under my skin is the same, though.

From Snow Fox:

“Why aren’t you blinded by prejudice?” I want to know. Even I had trouble with the concept of two men in love, right at first. How was my mother more accepting than me?

Now my mother’s smile is sad. “Did I tell you I had an older brother, when I was a child in Hindustan?”

Her phrasing is ominous. ‘Had’ an older brother…”What happened to him?” I ask quietly.

From Cupid’s Shield

I made the decision, while Baz panted into my ear after his second orgasm, that I was done being a passive partner. So when he starts to shift his hips again, I plant my left foot onto the mattress and use that leverage to flip him under me.

He stiffens for a minute, caught unawares. His hands claw at my sides, trying to bring our bodies back together.

He’s going to succeed in a moment. I’ve got no illusions about my ability to win against Baz in a battle of strength. So I have about two seconds to put my plan into motion.

From Stars, Flowers and Children

My breath hitches in my chest as I sob from the pain. I gave up being brave about the second hour after it happened. It’s actually less painful now, but it still throbs, sending stabs of pain that arc through me. My foot has swollen up and turned red, but that’s not the worst of it. I’m going to die, I think.

I’m going to die alone, and Simon will never know, unless he finds my body.

From TikTok Dancer: I’m in a very smutty scene right now, so my new strategy is this: lots of [redacted]s

All of a sudden, this whole scenario strikes me as faintly ridiculous. I bark a laugh into the (hopefully) empty night.

Snow gasps as [redacted] “Wh—what? What’s fu—funny?” His voice wobbles [redacted].

“Is there,” I grunt, pausing to [redacted] “Is there,” I repeat, “a reason we’re outside, when I’ve got a lovely, expensive, and very empty hotel room we could be fucking in?”

From The Rat and the River

One moment we’re in the middle of the jungle, and the next, we’re standing in front of the village. Though there’s not much separation between the two. Other than a slim tributary of the Amazon river snaking through the centre of the town, where houses built on stilts are lining the edge, most of the homes have been built right up against the forest. It’s an eclectic mix of huts, with wood walls, but thatched roofs, and bigger, more modern houses, with steeply sloping metal roofs.

We take in all of this in seconds. What takes us longer to notice is the nearly complete absence of noise from the town.

From my Visitor Baz AU (still working on a title)

I’d thought that how it works is, a visitor passes on his message and then passes through the veil, never to return. At least, that’s how it works in every account I’ve ever read on the subject. And I’ve read a lot of accounts–I’m a vampire child of a murdered mother. Few people would have more reason to cross the veil than Natasha Grimm-Pitch. And few children would have more reason to doubt that their own mother would want to visit them.

I’m one of the creatures that killed her, after all.

At least, I was.

Believe it or not, I’ve (willingly!) signed up for two more fics and am deep in the planning stages for them. They’re for CORB and I’m super excited for them! I’ll probably have an excerpt from each next time I manage one of these updates.

Tags and air kisses to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist,

@mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am,

@whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer,

@nightimedreamersghost, @angelsfalling16, @mooncello, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,

@theearlgreymage, @Iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @j-nipper-95,

@letraspal, @facewithoutheart, @wellbelesbian, @martsonmars, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@ic3-que3n, @thewholelemon, @bookish-bogwitch, @skeedelvee, @prettygoododds,

@ivelovedhimthroughworse, @messofthejess, @emeryhall,

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #simon snow series #carry on through the ages #cotta 2023 #carry on reverse bang

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mysteryshoptls · 1 year

Text

Episode 5-21 Rhythmic Lyrics

SING AND DANCE WITH THE WHOLE TRIBE!

Piece of My World

Kalim/Jamil/Vil/Epel: You can hear it from beyond the door, can't you? It's waiting for you, let's go to Wonderland!

Vil: I always want to feel thrilled. Vil/Ace: So give me a sign. Jamil: There's no time for you to blink Jamil/Rook: The magic is starting now

Rook/Ace: AH AH

Jamil: Nobody ever wants to lose Deuce/Jamil: The moon urges us on Vil: Ring out your footsteps sharply now, come on Vil/Epel: Before the break of dawn arrives

Jamil: I'm trying to figure out Epel: Just who I am Jamil/Vil: Even though I'm capable of piercing my way through

All: Let's dance to this twisted rhythm That spirit you have even when defeated is still charming It really doesn't matter, Don't you think it's okay to be just a little bit bad?

All: All these thrills are pieces that make up who I am I'll show you an enchanting world within the darkness

Jamil/Vil/Epel/Rook: Take a peek on the other side of the door, It's waiting for you, let's go to Wonderland!

The verses below are not in the rhythmic, but the full song was finally revealed in the TWST Soundtrack. Although there is an NRC Tribe version of the song, I can't trust that I'm picking up the correct voices (other than Jamil, Vil, and Epel) to label them correctly. If we ever get a lyrics sheet saying who sang what, I may update this. The final chorus to the end were originally revealed during a broadcast of the Night Ravens singing Piece of My World.

The clock hands keep ticking on Now, make it go faster These impatient footsteps, this throbbing pulse, come on Before anyone else arrives

I was trying to capture Just who I am Even though I actually like my imperfections.

Let's sing to this twisted world This fluttering feeling inside my chest is very real That lame thing called common sense, Don't you think it's okay to just throw that all away?

All these thrills are pieces that make us all shine I'll find the key to everything within the darkness

♪♪♪

When the night finally leaves us, I'm sure we'll surpass what we are now (The twisted world will show us the way) As long as my personal fate doesn't impede my way

Drink up the overflowing magic, Even if the pain and frustration gets in the way. It really doesn't matter, I'll show the world that everything will be mine!

Let's dance to this twisted rhythm. That spirit you have even when defeated is still charming. It really doesn't matter, Don't you think it's okay to be just a little bit bad?

All these thrills are pieces that make up who I am I'll show you an enchanting world within the darkness.

Take a peek on the other side of the door, It connects inside of you, that Wonderland!

AH AH NA NA NA NA NA NA NA Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Come along Wonderland!

Piece of My World (Translyrics)

Under the cut, the following English lyrics should match the Japanese lyrics fairly well. Some liberties have been taken to make the rhyme and rhythm work, but stays true to the core of the song. It may take a few listen and read throughs to sing it just as I've envisioned it. I've also spaced them out slightly separately from the original written lyrics in-game to help with figuring out the beat.

Can’t you hear it calling? Right beyond the door there For you it’s been waiting Let’s go to Wonderland!

I always wanted to be thrilled beyond belief So now, give me the cue And if you blink too fast I’ll have to give you grief All the magic will be starting soon

AH AH

There isn’t anyone who ever wants to lose Yet the moon will taunt us Let out sharp footsteps to help the tension diffuse, hurry Before the break of dawn arrives

It’s hard to figure out What all I can become But even so, I power through what may come

Keep on dancing here with me to this twisted beat Your strong spirit shines even when you’re faced with a defeat Don’t you ever mind, You’ll find, Being a bit bad can be so sweet

All these thrills are pieces that make up who I can be I’ll enchant you within the deep darkness unfurled Yes, in this wonderful world

It’s what you’ve been seeking Right beyond the door there For you it’s been waiting Let’s go to Wonderland!

The clock continues to keep ticking ever on So now, speed up the time With footsteps restless and rash, and heartbeats pounding fast, hurry Before anyone else arrives

I think I've figured out What all I can become But even so, to my faults I may succumb

Keep on singing here with me in this twisted place This strange feeling binds my chest warmly in a tight embrace No one needs common sense, so Throw it all away without a trace

All these thrills are pieces that make us shine so brightly I'll figure out where in the deep darkness it's found The answer that keeps us bound

♪♪♪

When at last the night leaves us, we'll have left our old selves behind (This twisted world will guide us along to the right path…) Just as long as my own destiny Doesn't end up misaligned

Swallow down all the magic that's overflowing Even if frustration and pain tries to clip both your wings I don't even mind, You'll find, One day I'll get to have everything

Keep on dancing here with me to this twisted beat Your strong spirit shines even when you’re faced with a defeat Don’t you ever mind, You’ll find, Being a bit bad can be so sweet

All these thrills are pieces that make up who I can be I’ll enchant you within the deep darkness unfurled Yes, in this wonderful world.

It’s what you’ve been seeking Right beyond the door there Feel your soul connecting Right to the Wonderland!

AH AH NA NA NA NA NA NA NA Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Come along Wonderland!

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #kalim al-asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #twst ace #twst deuce #twst kalim #twst jamil #twst vil #twst epel #twst rook #twst translation #twst rhythmic #twst lyrics

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