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zmediaoutlet · 11 months

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Survey results time.

At time of downloading the data we got just over 300 responses, which is not bad for a survey that was long and complicated to take! I'm sure my shamelessness helped. Being a survey for a specific crowd, we also didn't get anyone (as far as I could tell) taking the survey in bad faith, which is a legit surprise. Special shout-out to the several people who, when asked to write literally anything to say they understood what was going on, wrote "literally anything"; additional shout-out to the person who wrote "penus and hole" (sic). You get it, anonymous person.

I'm going to share the top results for the questions here, but I'll also include the raw data as a sheet at the end in case anyone wants to actually go through it with a fine-tooth comb. This is not a survey where cute pie charts or graphs would be useful or readable, so get ready for some sweet-ass numbers:

Story Genre

Unsurprisingly, our leaderboard for most favorite story genre in the 'Anytime!' category is as follows:

Hurt/comfort (153 votes)

Angst (142 votes)

PWP (139 votes)

We just like the guys to get the shit beaten out of them, angstily, and then they can feel better by jerking off about it. The ideal evening.

The big loser in genre, with 34 buds flat out saying "not for me", was Dark!fic. That said, Dark!fic also got 112 votes (third highest) for "has to be JUST right," so we can probably take from there that while as a group we don't hate dark content, we have pretty strict definitions for a) what counts as dark, and b) what kind of dark we're willing to take.

Gencest/gen was arguably the most 'eh, idk?' of the genres, with respectable showings in every category from Anytime to No; most people don't hate it, but people aren't really seeking it out either. It's definitely There.

Story Setting

The winner of most 'Anytime!' votes for story setting is close to my heart; the podium is:

Bunker era (142 votes)

Canon-close, codas, etc (129 votes)

Pre-series/weechesters (126 votes)

It feels good to know that canon is on our side. This may help explain why various alternate universe settings didn't do so hot with the respondents -- the least fave according to this survey is an age!swap AU, followed by a raised apart!AU. Writers who are making Sam the big brother who lives in Cleveland while baby Dean lives in Seattle, you keep living your truth, but readers are rearing back.

That being said, while Canon Divergence isn't an overall winner, it has a full 149 votes in the 'Dig it' category; so, while we may generally prefer canon, we're willing to be led on a garden path away from it. We just want canon to be within shouting distance, at least.

Canonical Character Variants

Here's where the survey gets more complex. I've always been interested in how and why people are fandoming about things, and simple 'yes/no' surveys rarely dig into that meat. The point of the superego/ego/id separation is to really interrogate -- hey, do you like to read about (for example) soulless!Sam because you find it interesting on a high-minded level, or because your heart-strings are getting tugged even if you think it's kinda dumb, or just because it makes you so hornt-up you can't think straight? All are valid, and all are possible simultaneously, but it's interesting to prod at to see how the interest is working. You might also just be like, eh, it's fine, or GOD, STOP, and that's fine too. So, with all that said:

Superego winners:

demon powers!Sam (202 votes)

soulless!Sam (177 votes)

blood addict!Sam (160 votes)

Y'all like to really brain about how Sam is fucked up. I get it.

Ego winners:

Trials of Hell!Sam (186 votes)

blood addict!Sam (180 votes)

demon powers!Sam (161 votes)

Still all Sam, and no surprise that his saintly pale sleeplessness is winning the heartstrings battle.

Id winners:

demon!Dean (205 votes)

demon powers!Sam (175 votes)

blood addict!Sam (165 votes)

Again, no surprise: fandom girlies (gn) love their bad boys, lol. Soulless snuck in at #4 here with 163, presumably because working out still wearing a belt was juuuust dorky enough to kick him off the podium; #5 was Smith & Wesson at 162, probably because if they'd been left in that AU for ten more minutes they would have been fucking over the top of Dean Smith's desk. Glad we're all on the same page, there.

The nopes here were an interesting mix. In the full-on No Thank You category we had Michael!Dean and Gadreel!Sam (with 52 and 53 votes respectively) -- it would be interesting to know if that was due to dread of the storyline specifically, or just how No Bad Wrong it felt to have it happening. These two also led the 'meh' category, although they were joined on the podium of bad by Endverse!Dean (128 Meh votes), which frankly shocked me. Y'all aren't into his thigh holster? C'mon now. Sure, he murders his friends without compunction, but -- thigh holster!

Story Tropes

These ones were fascinatingly all over the place, which is exactly why I wanted to do this. Going to just run down the S/E/I podiums real quick, then 'Hard sell', then No --

Superego winners:

Outsider!POV (211)

Someone Finds Out (191)

Mental health issues (190)

Ego winners:

Mutual pining (252)

First time (242) AND Sick/injured (242)

First time in a long time (235)

Id winners:

Jealousy/possessiveness (224)

First time (218)

First time in a long time (180)

Now, part of what's interesting about these is how they fall off in other categories. Outsider POV wins handily at Superego with 211, but then drops all the way down to 92 votes at Id -- which isn't nothing, but clearly it's preferred to have a heckin' think about how other people view the incest relationship, rather than thinking it's just So Hot that people might. Similarly, while people do think it's so so hot for one brother or the other (or both!) to be possessive at 224 votes, when it comes to the superego that drops right down to 134 votes, presumably as the brain wakes up and goes RED FLAG!

Entering the land of no thank you, we shall have two anti-podiums:

Real hard sell:

Infidelity (127)

magic/powers!Dean (125)

Unrequited/no relationship upgrade (110) AND "Carver Edlund" fandom

This is a much more mixed bag. Infidelity and Unrequited are no surprise here, because it Feels Bad, Man; magic!Dean also not really a surprise, given that most of our respondents prefer being closer to canon, and Dean is very much our mundane buddy in the show as presented. (A delightful buddy, but a distinctly nonmagical one.) Carver Edlund fandom makes me laugh mostly because it's such a bananas thing to exist in the show. Sam and Dean reading big bang fics about each other? Collectively we just... don't know what to do with that. Weird.

Squick/No/Maybe one exception:

Permanent character death (140)

Infidelity (108)

Eating disorders (102)

Again, no surprise in the anti-winners of 1 or 2 here, but number 3 surprised me, personally. ED fic used to be a pretty big wedge of common tropes that people would seek out. Perhaps it's gotten less popular over the years? Or perhaps just that the people who like it REALLY like it and so chat about it out loud, while those who don't quietly bury it in sand, lo as a cat does with their leavings.

Most extreme delta in 'general interest' (whether that be S,E, or I) to 'ehh' (whether that be Hard Sell or Squick) is first time. Y'all loooove your first time.

Sexy Tropes, Vol. 1

This is where I really wanted to know if people could pull apart their interests between brain and heart and guts. Hopefully people were honest, as requested. Some of them we know are slight liar answers, because the hits on AO3 tell a story that can't be refuted -- nevertheless, here's what people were willing to admit to.

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Bedsharing (158)

Incest kink (139)

Size kink (133)

your friendly neighborhood survey creator is jumping up and down going 'wooo' that size kink made the podium. also I hope everyone understood that incest kink meant, like, indulging in the incest of it all via 'oh you're so totes my brother and i want to suck your dingle for that reason specifically', but I realize that could've been clearer.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

shameless bottom!Dean stuff (151)

switching (147)

voyeurism (138)

the first one here genuinely surprises me considering what I see getting written most often; is this a case of just not being in the right venn diagrams, or the 'easy sell' just not matching up with what people are being sold? Curiouser and curiouser.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

bad/awkward sex (120)

phone sex (114)

in [drug/alcohol] veritas (110)

edging into awkward town in a few ways here: we don't love these, but we can see how it'd be fun. or not fun, in the case of bad sex.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

always-another-gender!AU (84)

multiple Sams or Deans (73)

genderswap (magic) (72)

so, in general, we prefer to keep the penises around and intact, but just one Sam penis and one Dean penis, please. Here, I'm interested that the volume is much lower than in the top category: maxing out at 84 hard sells compared to 158 bulletproof options means that we're willing to give more of these tropes a chance, even if they're not our faves. How accepting we are!

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

always-another-gender!AU (83)

A/B/O elements (65)

multiple Sams or Deans (51)

strong overlap with the hard sell; and, keeping in mind that people were able to choose multiple options, it's possible that some of those were identical votes. Again, please keep the penises straightforward and only two at a time. A/B/O is interesting here, especially given what we know of how well it does on AO3; while it's a big squick for a lot of people, it also has decently high votes in bulletproof/easy, averaging 82 votes. Mixed bag!

Sexy Tropes Vol. 2, Electric Boogaloo

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Possessive/claiming sex (129)

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (116)

Hair pulling (103)

Let's glance back up at the Id winners in the story tropes above, hmm quietly to ourselves, and move on.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (135)

Hair pulling (130)

Possessive/claiming sex (121)

Well, that's boring. So let's expand so as not to be repetitive:

4. Dub-con (116) 5. Dom/sub (113) AND Underage (113) 6. Knifeplay (107)

There we go. Pretty easy to put all of those into one fic, too.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

Blindfolds (128)

Painplay (116)

Shibari/rope play (112)

We're starting to lose interest as accessories come into play. Interesting to compare D/s and its relative success against painplay -- so, tell him what to do, but don't hit him while you're doing it. Fair enough.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

Fucking machines (94)

Vore (80)

Mommy!kink (77)

Entertaining mix here, haha. General feasibility may be rearing its head here. (Also, for my own entertainment: daddy!kink got 67 Hard Sell votes. People generally prefer to keep it as horizontal incest, not vertical incest.)

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

Feederism (164)

Vore (161)

Extreme underage (157)

No surprises here, although some fans of the nibbly variety of wincest may be disappointed by vore's poor placement. Note also that 'extreme' is in the eye of the beholder; we'll leave aside value judgments, as we have for the whole survey, and note that people are not indulging in a version of underage they find to be personally past the line, or at least are not admitting to that.

At a glance, the closest matchup between bulletproof for some and a squick to others is bloodplay, with just 1 vote separating the two categories: 44 bulletproof, 43 squick. Next time someone tries to tell you that 'everyone' likes or doesn't like something, please take it with an entire shaker full of salt.

Dynamic & Position Preferences

I tried to encourage people not to think too hard about this one and just answer on instinct. Who knows if that worked. But here are some overview takes:

Toppy/dominant: Sam takes the lead here, with 69% of respondents being in the 'Love it!' category. Nice. (217 votes)

Dom Dean earned a respectable 52% of 'Love it!' votes (163).

However, I was also interested to check out the inverse --

subby!Sam: 44 'Very no thank' votes (13%) subby!Dean: 27 'Very no thank' votes (8%)

It's interesting to leap way back up and compare that against 'shameless bottom!Dean stuff' doing so well in the rated E categories. Makes you ponder.

Actual sex position: Frequently switching takes the win here, with 61% of the vote (194 votes). Sam always topping edges out if people must choose, with 144 votes; Dean always topping is our lowest choice, with 112.

Service!topping: this is a fairly niche fic type, but it does still exist -- I guess in a world of bottoms someone's got to actually get up and do something, and it is hilariously an almost perfectly even split:

service!top Sam: 50.17% (151 votes) service!top Dean: 51.50% (155 votes)

A healthy percentage of people said they didn't care about these questions either way, and more power to them. However, they were wildly outvoted by those who did.

Multishipping Time

Our final categories are when other people get their grubby hands on Sam or Dean, either canonically(ish) or in our fandom activities.

Canonical relationships for Sam

Jess wins, quelle surprise. :) 161 people Dug It and who can blame them.

Amelia LOSES, shocking no one: 112 people said Fuck That.

Eileen was definitely a mixed bag; her results, in order, were: Meh: 92; Fuck that: 76; Worse than meh: 66; Dug it: 44.

Canonical(ish) relationships for Dean

Note here: it was too unbalanced if we only went with people Dean officially dated. However, the show leaned hard into a few unrequited male relationships for him, which we included here, and no one sent me hate about it so I guess that was fine.

Benny wins the Love It! category with 129 votes, barely edging out Cassie at 122. Benny is best boy, so that fits.

Cas loses with a full 99 Fuck That votes, which is probably what we'd expect from a wincest survey. That said, he also got 93 Dug It votes, so it's a pretty balanced showing.

Poor Lisa sits firmly at Meh with 148 votes. It's not that we hate you, Lisa; we just don't really know what to do with you. Which is pretty much how the relationship went in the show.

Shipping Sam like FedEx

We returned to the S/E/I model for shipping as we did for tropes, because it means something very different to go 'oh sure, I can see how that would be interesting' vs saying 'I want them to fuck rawnasty and I don't care why they're doing it.' Apologies if I left out your favorite side-ship but, shit, there's only so much time in the day.

So, we return to the podiums:

Superego:

Ruby (132)

Rowena (121)

Cas (102)

Ego:

Rowena (121)

Cas (106)

Ruby (90)

Id:

Ruby (125)

John (121)

Rowena (118)

So that was going on sedately until Dad came in like a hammer. Fascinating. On the other hand:

No:

Lisa (234)

Donna (222)

Claire (219)

Interesting to me that these three are ladies that Sam theoretically could have got up in but people are not into it, regardless. This is slightly different to Dean's 'no' category -- spoilers for three inches of screen space!

Dean, Shipped by UPS

Superego:

John (129)

Benny (115)

Lisa (99)

Ego:

Benny (134)

John (116)

Lisa (102)

Id:

John (147)

Benny (128)

Crowley (114)

Well. That tells a slightly different story, ahem. Enjoy the various tropes that will be applied, Dean! And then we get:

No:

Amelia (245)

Kevin (223)

Gabriel (217)

Comparing to the Sam 'no' above -- these three are slightly more 'traditional' Sam ships, though the wincest shippers are nevertheless not into them for Sam, either. Dean literally never spoke to or saw Amelia on screen, so it'd be a determined shipper who'd make that happen. Not undoable, though!

Conclusion

Syke: there isn't one to be made. This really shows how diverse the taste is in the wincest community, or at least in the wincest community that a) happened to see this survey over the last five days and b) bothered to take it. This particular group leans slightly toward e.g. toppy Sam, or slightly toward switching, but when you look at raw numbers what you see is that at least one person LOVES every single one of these things, and at least one person fucking HATES every single one of these things, and so -- so what? Write what you want. If you see a niche of something that you love where you feel like not enough people are writing or reading, try to fill it. If you're worried "no one" will like it, well -- you're wrong. Someone will. It just needs to get seen by the right people.

That's where fandom comes in, to spread the love even if something isn't bulletproof for us -- reblogging a post to say, 'hey, my mutual made this thing, look at it!' What a joy it'd be if someone saw it and loved it to absolute shattering bits, and then found their little bulletproof community, and happiness was made. What's the point, if we're not making each other happy.

Thanks for participating if you did, and reading all this if you did. Here's a link to a google sheet (read only) with all the tables of raw data if you're interested. I'll post some of the more entertaining fill-in answers later.

s&d shipping survey results: November 1, 2023 - Google Sheets

#happy wincest wednesday #wincest #survey results #warning this is really long lol #but thanks for doing the thing <3

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fortheloveofallthings · 6 months

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Steddie Florist AU - mini fic (inspired by a twitter prompt)

Eddie never bought flowers. Not once in his life had it even crossed his mind. But every afternoon before he heads into his shift at the bar he steals a glance at the perfectly styled man through the window organizing the bouquets. Every once in a while, Eddie would catch himself stopping dead in his tracks staring between the guy and the flowers, and every once in a while they’d make eye contact. His face would flush red as he quickly buried his face back in his leather jacket and rush into work.

Steve loved making bouquets. He loved flowers, and the chill of the cooler they were kept in. He loved sharing holidays with the strangers that came and went. He loved the curly hair and leather that floated across the windows from the storefront. And he loved that stranger’s rich chocolate eyes even more. The deer in the headlights look he’d stumble upon when their views locked. One afternoon, the man finally walked in and after all his failed attempts at love here he was ready to try again. He stood from where he was kneeling, “What brings you in?”

Eddie practically burst into the shop with no game plan in mind and stopped immediately at the entrance. Thankfully the man, much more gorgeous without the glare of glass between them, spoke first. “Oh um, not sure? I walk by everyday and uh thought id look around?” A small giggle escaped the florist, “sure man, look all you want. I’m here if you have any questions.” He flashed a well executed customer service smile then went to tend to some of the house plants across the sales floor. Eddie waded through the aisles curiously examining the buckets of roses and countless other flowers he didn’t know the names of. He lingered around the… “Seems like you like the dahlias” the florist said, lingering next to Eddie making him jump. “Shit man! You have a quiet step” “I’m sorry, Robin scolds me for scaring her all the time.” He looked away sheepish. “Well at least you can make it up to her with all these lovely flowers,” he nervously chuckled, “She must love that quality in her partner at least.” The florist laughed, “Shes not my girlfriend, no. Shes my best friend… and co-worker.”

Steve could’ve watched this man walk around the shop for hours. The curiosity he wandered with held a child-like wonder, an interest in the unknown and he had to go and scare the guy. The man sighed relief and got back to the flowers, “wait? These are dahlias? Like the murder?” Steve lost it at that, “like the murder!?” He laughed, held his stomach and everything. “Yes like that, but it was a flower first.” “Oh right, well maybe ill get one of these?” The man asked so unsure if that was even ok. “Of course, you want just a single one?” The man combed his fingers through his curls then rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh ya just one of the purple ones. Im sure theres an empty bottle at work I can put it in. Might be nice to have it on the bar.” They walked over to the counter and Steve wrapped the single dahlia in a sheet of black tissue paper. “This one is on me,” Steve winked. The man’s cheeks flushed pink and the guy avoided any eye contact like the plague. “You sure? I don’t mind paying,” He offered. “I’m sure, least I could do for scaring you.” The man took his single flower with utmost care turned towards the door and just before leaving he turned back to Steve. “If you’re free later, head over to the Red Dragon. Its only a block down the street, I’ll get you a drink on me. Just ask for Eddie if you don’t see me, sometimes I get stuck recycling the kegs in the back”

Part 2

#steddie fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #florist au #tempted to make this longer

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irrealisms · 2 years

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if you can live your life without an audience, you should do it.

The Truman Show // MAG188 - Centre of Attention // Twitter: TubboLive // Can't Handle This (Kanye Rant) - Bo Burnham // Wilbur Soot VOD (Oct 17th 2020) - [DreamSMP] Speedy Stream Festival What festival // MAG117 - Testament // Margaret Atwood - The Robber Bride // @elytrians // MAG188 - Centre of Attention // The Truman Show (edit by @parakeet) // Untitled #15 by @that-house // something about a truman show complex, greek heroes, and the illusion of free will. by @yuker // Tom Stoppard - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead // Bo Burnham - Inside // you're fairly certain there's a curtain somewhere by @irrealisms

[IDs under cut]

Images 1 and 2: Screenshots of the Truman Show. The Closed Captions read "Let me get you some help, Truman. You're not well."

Image 3: ARCHIVIST: Hm. You want a show so badly? Fine.

Image 4: a twitter poll by @TubboLive. text of the tweet is "What do we do..." Options are "Exile Tommy", with 55.8% of the vote, and "Don't Exile Tommy", with 44.2% of the vote.

Image 5: The truth is, my biggest problem's you/I want to please you/But I want to stay true to myself/I want to give you the night out that you deserve/But I want to say what I think/And not care what you think about it/Part of me loves you/Part of me hates you/Part of me needs you/Part of me fears you/And I don't think that I can handle this right now"

Image 6: WILBUR: You're saying "do it", chat, but you're-- this isn't-- you aren't affected, you just want to see explosions, you guys aren't affected, I understand, I understand, I-- I've been hasty.

Image 7: TIM: All right. I don’t know what you are, I don’t even know if you’re listening. I don’t care. Just, if you’re there, I want you to know that I hate you. I hate you for, for witnessing what’s happened to us.

Image 8: “Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it's all a male fantasy: that you're strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren't catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you're unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.” ― Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride

Image 9: a tumblr post by @elytrians. text: *coughs up blood* how do i look? do i look good? was that hot?

Image 10: She had once counted how many times she could spot a camera watching her during her morning run: thirty-one in ten minutes. At least, it had been back then. Last time she had tried it there were hundreds. They tracked her movements, and made so much noise she could not have ignored them if she tried. It was halfway between the mechanical whir of a focusing lens and the low rattle of mean-spirited laughter. Carmen didn’t go running anymore.

Image 11: The last scene of the Truman Show, edited to add a twitch chat full of PogChamp emotes.

Image 12: a comic of two squares talking. RED: I realized something. BLUE: Yeah? RED: This comic could just end. Without warning. The Creator could just get bored. BLUE: No closure, no catharsis, nothing. RED: Our recent few strips would make for unsatisfying ends. Maybe we should give every comic a satisfying conclusion. BLUE: But that’s life. Life doesn’t always have a satisfying ending. RED: This isn’t life, this is a comic. We can control it. We can make sure there’s a happy ending. BLUE: We can’t control jack shit. The comic’s ending is up to the Creator.

Image 13: a comic of Technoblade. He is sitting amongst scattered papers with his hands on his face. The scattered papers have the titles of various Technoblade DSMP Youtube videos written on them. Text on the image reads: “It can hurt, knowing you’re just a character with predetermined lines instead of a person with feelings. The voices are the audience and they’re constantly critiquing your performance.”

Image 14: ROS: I wish I was dead. (Considers the drop.) I could jump over the side. That would put a spoke in their wheel. GUIL: Unless they're counting on it. ROS: I shall remain on board. That'll put a spoke in their wheel. (The futility of it, fury.) All right! We don't question, we don't doubt. We perform.

Images 15, 16: Bo Burnham stands outside a house on a stage; there is a spotlight on him. the caption is [disembodied applause] He tries to reenter the house. the caption is [disembodied laughter].

Image 17: WILBUR: It’s better to play along. Give them what they want. Put on a show. Who cares who it hurts, as long as it’s fucking—influential? God, I hate it so much sometimes, I want to scream. And then I think, would they like that? Would that be entertaining enough for them? Still have to give them their performance. Even when I was dead I was still—I rehearsed my resurrection. TECHNO: Dude, you need therapy.

#web weaving #therapists dni #a bit of a truman show complex #peering through the keyhole

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

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getting into plants will make you do insane shit like combing through old photos to see if you can ID the plants in the background

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orions-choker · 3 days

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could you pls maybe write rough dom lars x reader :P

if not just kirk x reader smut i will take that shit any day of the week i fuckibg love him there’s just no lars content for me to chew on ANYWHERE atm so thought id ask :)

A/N: I hope this is okay for you! I haven't published anything with lars yet so I'm not sure how well I write him. I hope you enjoy either way!

Warnings: Dom-Sub undertones, Name calling, face fucking, filming. Word Count: 2,124

Being asked to work on the production team for Metallica was like a fever dream. She hadn’t been told much when she had been hired, nothing more than she was about to film every waking moment of them producing their new album. It had her bouncing off the walls in excitement, her first big moment in filming.

She was nothing more than a camera operator, however that also meant she was most intimately in the boys’s space. Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how she thought they would react to her shoving a camera in her face nearly 24/7, but it was somehow worse than she could imagine. It was made very clear how much the boys opposed being filmed. Everyone except Lars.

Lars was entertaining to say the least. It was almost like he lived to be in front of the camera. It gave him every opportunity to speak about whatever he felt like, and everyone had to listen. She almost felt bad for the editors who would have to comb through the footage she got of him, knowing the majority of his babbling wouldn’t be viable for the finished project.

It was endearing, the way he got excited and animated. She noted his accent thickened the longer he spoke, the more comfortable he got. Y/N gravitated towards him for that reason, it felt like she was filming the Lars show rather than the entirety of metallica. They developed a bond. It made her feel warm and fluttery the way he would call out to her as soon as she arrived for the day.

Everyday except for today. When she arrived at their studio where most of the filming was taking place, no one had given her any warning for the shit storm she was about to walk into. With the camera heavy on her shoulder she waltzed into the recording booth, immediately the tension in the room blanketed her.

The producers gathered around looked tense, all four of the guys were recording in the booth together looking more annoyed than anything. Most noticeably Lars was far more aggressive on his drum kit than she had ever seen before. She nearly winced as she began recording, focusing on the producers rather than the band.

“You’re still off time Lars.” Someone leaned forward into the studio mic as the song they were recording came to an end. The anger radiating off of the Danish man was palpable. The fury in his eyes may not have been directed towards her but she felt small anyways.

Y/N tuned out the argument that ensued between Lars, the producers and the rest of the band. She hated it, the feeling like she was invading their privacy, but this is what she was hired to do so the tape continued to roll. Eventually they finished the session, recording a copy of the song that at least to her untrained ears, sounded really good.

Lars had stormed off practically the moment the session ended, tossing his drumsticks off to the side. This was the first time she had seen him so pissed. She would have left it alone if it weren't for the urging of her director to go after him. Everyone knew Lars was especially sweet on her and if anyone were to get footage of this it would be her. Hesitantly Y/N followed him into one of the many smaller lounge rooms in the studio. Suddenly the weight of the camera felt unbearable as she peaked her head around the corner. He was sprawled on the couch, head tilted back against the cushions. His bare chest heaved as he gathered his breath from the workout that came from playing the drums. “Not right now Y/N.” He warned her as he lifted his head to look up at her and the waiting camera. She frowned knowing they wouldn’t be able to use this clip now that he had addressed her directly. Though it gave her the opportunity to speak now.

“Sorry Lars, I don’t want to.” She apologized genuinely as she moved around the couch, settling down on a chair opposite from him. “But I still have to do my job.” She focused the lens, and through the viewfinder she could clearly see the displeased scowl on his face.

Slowly he pulled his body up into an upright position. The glare he sent her way wasn’t like anything she had been subjected to before. She shied away as best she could while holding the camera steady. “Oh fuck off, blow me.” He spat at her. Something in her stomach flipped, it had been clearly meant as an insult but the way the vulgar words dripped off his lips left her feeling…conflicted.

She wasn’t supposed to but she shut off the recording, heaving the heavy technology from her shoulder and placing it down on the coffee table in a form of a truce. There was a flash of regret in his eyes at the sight of her wounded expression. However her next words caught him off guard. “If I did, would it help?” She asked softly.

The boldness in her words left Lars speechless for once. She stood up, moving to slide the lock on the door. “It was a fucking joke Y/N.” Lars sputtered out, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. His eyes widened in disbelief as she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands coming up behind her head to pull her hair back in a messy ponytail. “Are you serious?”

Y/N shrugged with a small smile. “Good stress reliever right?” She said, placing her hands nervously on top of her knees. She wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she hated the tension between the two of them when he was angry, and of course her attraction towards him was undeniable.

For a moment she watched the gears in his head turn before he laughed dryly. “Fuck I didn’t know you were a slut.” The name should have upset her but it sent a strike of electricity through her core instead. His hand suddenly came up to roughly grab her ponytail in his fist. Tugging her forward towards his crotch as he pulled his growing hardness free from his shorts. “Go ahead then, suck me off.”

The grip he had on her hair was painful, her brows furrowing lightly at the way her scalp ached. Obediently she opened her mouth, her tongue laying flat as Lars guided the head of his cock between her lips. The groan it incited from him had Y/N eagerly leaning forward to take more in. As she went to move Lars tugged her back, clicking her tongue at her. “No, don’t move, whores don't get to take control.” Y/N whined at his harsh words, the way he guided her head up and down his length at whatever pace he chose. She felt powerless against him and it excited her. She relaxed her muscles to allow Lars easy control over her. He wasted no time in setting a brutal relentless pace, her throat constricting and gagging around the girth as he slammed himself into the back of her throat. There was a mess of spit and tears dribbling across her chin.

“Aww fuck, Y/N.” Lars groaned, slurring his words through his accent. The sound had her desperately shoving her hand underneath the waistband of her jeans, rubbing at her wet heat through her underwear desperate for relief. She let out a soft moan around his cock and suddenly he stopped moving.

She was pulled off with an aggressive ‘pop’. Her breathing was ragged and heavy as she looked up at Lars confused. Roughly he pulled her to her feet, grasping her hand and pulling it from her jeans. “Who said you could touch yourself?” He spat out. A blush spread across her cheeks in shame. “This is about me isn’t it? Not you.”

Suddenly he was pushing her forehead, his hand sprawling across the small of her back as he tugged her jeans and underwear down her skin in one go. She shivered at the cool air dancing across her warm flushed skin. “ S-sorry!” she gasped out, her voice weak from the abuse her throat had just received.

“You will be.” He laughed, his fingers traced along the outside of her exposed entrance, up through the wet folds before pulling back and leaving a heavy slap across the flesh of her ass. Her body lurched forward from the sting. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” Suddenly his breath was ghosting across her ear, his voice softer and more tender. “Is it okay if I fuck you?”

The way he made sure to ask even with how clearly eager she was had her smiling. She nodded quickly, wiggling her hips back against him. “Yes, please.” Her voice was laced with desperation. The grip he had on her tightened eagerly. He pushed her head further down against the couch cushions, spreading her legs further apart as he stood between them.

She felt fully exposed like this, face down, ass up, in the middle of the lounge. The only thing separating them from the numerous people in the studio was one lousy lock. There was a sudden protrusion against her entrance, the prodding head of his dick against her dripping hole forced a gasp from her lungs. In one smooth movement he slid into her tight wet heat.

He moaned above her, a little lighter and whinier than she expected. His hands came to rest on her hips as he pushed himself flush against her ass. “Fuckin’ tight for a whore.” He huffed as her walls constricted around him. With the angle they were at Y/N could practically feel him in her stomach, the slow drag of his cock inside her as he pulled out was intoxicating.

With a quick snap of his hips she was getting pushed further into the couch. Her toes curled as he picked up pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. The cushions did little to muffle her moans as he fucked her relentlessly in couch. Her hands scrambled to hold onto something as her body went limp against him. “Fuck so good, so fucking good for me.” He groaned.

“Please, can I please touch myself.” Y/N asked desperately, the ache between her legs growing unbearable. Instead of answering Lars draped his body across her back, one hand snaking around her waist to press his fingers against her clit. Just like the rest of him, his fingers were rough, fast. He worked her clit at a matching pace that sent her over the edge.

A broken moan spilled past her lips as her stomach tightened, her release gushing over his cock like a wave. Her walls spasmed around him as he slammed into her deeper than he had before. It sent a wave of pain through her core as he hit her cervix. A sudden warmth spilled inside her as she milked him of his climax.

His breath was heavy in her ear, their skin stuck together with the sweat that had formed over them. As his cock softened inside her she felt the mixture of their cum spilling down her shaky thighs. Lars groaned, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he fell to the side onto the couch beside her. It was an awkward angle they way they both were lying on the couch. Their limbs tangled together nearly falling off the edge.

“You know, they gave you a lot of shit for being on time, but that felt pretty well timed.” She attempted to joke. It worked, the way he snorted behind her. “Did it help?” She asked softly, craning her head to look behind her at him. She was surprised as leaned forward to press his lips to hers, and she was suddenly aware they hadn’t even kissed before they fucked.

Lars nodded slowly. “Yeah, it helped.” He hesitated for a moment. “I didn’t mean it when I called you a slut by the way.” He assured her with a comforting squeeze. It was probably the sweetest she had ever seen him, fucked out and sleepy. Suddenly his eyebrows raise. “Did you mean to film all that?” He asked, gesturing to the camera still sitting on the coffee table, perfectly facing them.

Y/N sat up confused. “No, I turned it off.” She assured him, turning her head to look. Then the flashing red light indicating the tape was still rolling caught her eye. The color drained from her face. Distantly she could hear Lars’s laughter as she stared down the lens, her ears ringing. “Ah, fuck.”

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica/reader #lars ulrich/reader #lars ulrich x reader #lars ulrich

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dobiemart · 2 years

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my chocolate wit' yo vanilla (ugh)

pairing, edward "eddie" munson, steven “steve” harrington, william "billy" hargrove, platonic!maxine "max" mayfield x reader

summary, different scenarios where the boys (and maxie pad) get their hair messed with

word count, like two or three maybe (900+ all together)

byr, tell a friend to TELL a friend... sheesss baacckkkk

i did write this with a black!reader in mind cause these are all things id id do to my white ass bf but anybody is welcome to read regardless

do ppl read st fics anymore?? i literally havent been able to open tumblr in like three months PELASEDFJS

warnings, eddie getting popped by the comb, steve getting damn near snatched off a stool, billy almost getting fought over his choice of words, prob ooc characters because i forgot how to write for them, pretty abrupt endings to each scenario, black shenanigans, etc.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ☆★☆★☆★☆★☆ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

━━━ EDDIE MUNSON (pb. joseph quinn.)

"eddie, thats about the dumbest shit ive ever heard come from your mouth."

“no- hear me out, babe!” eddie tried to spin around and respond before you stopped him, quickly positioning his slender body back forwards. him, being the drama queen that could never make the lead in a play that he is, started to complain before you popped the side of his head.

“hey! what was that one for?!” he exclaimed in a whiny tone, reaching up to sooth the spot you'd hit with the comb. you kissed your teeth before moving his hand out of the way and resuming your section.

“i know damn well i told you to stop moving,” you said while coming through a knot, hushing eddie before he even started his whining mess. “maybe if you would sit and be still we wouldn't have this problem.”

“you wound me, princess.” he said while tutting his bottom lip out, mocking a pout. he knew you weren't genuinely mad, but messing with you was always fun. even if he got his ass beat. “i thought my girl was supposed to treat me rig– ow!” he was cut off by a particularly harsh yank from another knot.

“that’s whatcha’ ass gets,” you replied with a snicker, trying not to laugh too hard at the poor boy. “after all, you agreed to let me do your hair. since you wanna be all nosy bout' ‘how i do this’ and ‘what that product over there is for.’ whenever i have the patience to do mine.”

you gestured all over the place with your comb as you went on about his questions and concerns, though, you noticed he didn't reply with the usual "you love it, anyway," or another snarky remark that made you love him impossibly more.

he instead opted to look up at you from his spot between your legs, gazing at you with nothing but pure adoration and love in his softened eyes. his calloused, overworked hands reached up to rub at the skin of your thighs gently, sighing as he embraced the feeling of your skin.

“i love you, baby. s’much. even if you're mea-- OW!"

━━━ STEVE HARRINGTON (pb. joe keery.)

“okay, babe! you don't have to yank it like that—” steve exclaimed, gripping onto the bathroom counter as to not fall off of the stool he was perched on.

you couldn't help but cackle at his reflection in the mirror, head being yanked back by the wig cap you were trying to shove his thick mop of hair under.

“it's not my fault you got a big ass head! jus’ hold still so i can get it all up under there,” you barely got the sentence out without bursting out in laughter at your boy, a small smile catching on his face at your humor.

he eventually smacked your hands away and started to fix his hair underneath the cap by himself, insisting that you were gonna 'ruin his wave pattern.'

“i’m never losing a bet with robin again,” he murmured after you finished adjusting the cap around his head, noticing how much he actually needed his precious bangs. “especially if you’re in on it.”

you gave a shocked gasp and lightly slapped the back of his neck. “i’m being paid good money for this, so lose as many bets as you have to.” you continued while brushing out the pale blonde wig robin picked out for him.

you placed it on his head and tugged it around, causing him to grip onto the countertop again. you fussed with it until it looked decent enough, busting out into giggles at steve’s expression in the mirror.

“babe-- you didn't even do it right! give me this brush, you ain’t finna have me lookin’ all crazy like this–” he exuded sass while snatching the brush from your manicured hands and getting to work fixing up the hair.

all you could do was laugh while he frantically fixed some flyaway pieces and tried to messily give himself a middle part with his fingers, getting frustrated when it wouldn't come out jussttt right.

"there. now can i have those swirly hairs you do on your forehead? or a swoop? my forehead is not doing me any good right now," he asked while handing you back the brush, motioning what kind of baby hairs he wanted with his fingers.

man, was this boy a piece of work.

━━━ BILLY HARGROVE (pb. dacre montgomery.)

“ma, didn't i just tell you to sit down?” billy huffed while walking into the room, seeing you up and off your floor pillow.

you froze like a deer in headlights, followed quickly by max. you both had decided it would be a great idea to have a quick dance session to the smiths before billy got back, which had obviously been cut even shorter.

you both quickly returned to your respective spots on the floor with the most innocent looks you could muster. the silent energy of the room became too much for both you and max, causing you to look over at each other and laugh your asses off at billy’s ‘i’m not mad, just disappointed.’ posture.

he huffed and shook his head before walking over to the couch, muttering a "always gotta be so damn difficult," before placing the basket of hair products he kept at his place beside him. he tapped the cushion between his legs, letting you know to scoot back. you dragged max back with you, making the girl giggle.

“i really don't know why you both decide to test every nerve i have at every given chance, yet here we are.” he started to fuss at the both of you, snatching your bonnet off, earning him a "hey!" along with a slap on the thigh. you heard max chortle from in front of you before you snatched her matching cap off, making her stop and snatch it back.

“first of all, you can't even say allat! you get on our nerves all the time. shut that tone down before we really get to it, sir.” you snapped back at billy, max following with a “yeah! it’s not our problem that you decide to be a fun vampire every time we do something,”

he smirked to himself and replied with a hushed “be quiet and keep your head straight, an' watch that damn attitude.” before repositioning your bobbing head, getting into the first braid of many. you obeyed and started your own work on max's hair.

he gripped every thought and prayer you had in your scalp, making sure these braids were gonna stay in for the month. if you said it didn't hurt, you'd be a damn horrendous liar. you focus on giving max french braids, as to have something to stop you from tearing up at billy's technique.

it was quiet from that point on, minus the soft rhythm of ‘how soon is now?’ playing from the radio in the corner of the room. not that he would ever admit it, but billy loved these days. days where it was just the three of you in the house, all together, surrounded by nothing but love. the domestic feeling sent a feeling of warmth to his heart.

with you two, his unsavory household became a safe home.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ☆★☆★☆★☆★☆ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

hi pooks

ive been gone for like 3 months cause of school and work and my dog babies and my bf and arruragrhsjfsujd;

BUT im trying to slowly get back into writing cause i still love to do it when i have the opportunity

idk what else to say but likes, reblogs, and feedback are all very appreciated <333

- a returning coraline! :)

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blackjackkent · 5 months

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oh my god, I want to hear all about Hec and Karlach married hahahaha

More Hec/Karlach content, you say? :D :D

Y'all spoil me tremendously with this sort of encouragement. XD

(This is a response to my tag novel on this post about what people's Tavs/Durges would wear to their wedding.)

I really s2g I am going to write this Avernus fic at some point which I fully intend to be a longish collection of one-shots eventually leading to Karlach and Hector having a happily-ever-after which would include all this. (I have the first chapter of another Jaheira-related fic in the cooker rn and then the Avernus fic's first chapter will be up next; I'm trying to rotate my longfics a bit. XD ) So... this is all obviously subject to change based on how that fic eventually plays out.

However, with this minute bit of prompting I will indulge myself in some weapons-grade Hector/Karlach Fluff anyway. :D This is less a full fic and more some random snippets/headcanons about them getting married and afterwards.

-----

They have a first official "commitment" to each other, sometime after arriving in Avernus. Once they're safely installed in the House of Hope as their headquarters and start settling in for the long-haul war against Zariel, they take some time to themselves in an abandoned wing of the building and make private vows to each other. (Think something like this scene from Aerie's romance in ToB.) Neither of them calls it a marriage, but deep down they both know they mean it just as strongly.

It's kind of a tossup that they will leave Avernus until right before they do; their several years of guerilla warfare in the Hells culminates in a massive multipart raid on Zariels' main headquarters; Zariel is killed along with a number of her main lieutenants, and the group gets away with a defecting infernal blacksmith and blueprints for upgrades to Karlach's heart that will allow her to finally return home.

(It's Cespenar. The infernal blacksmith is Cespenar. @rhysintherain generously donated this idea and I'm not letting go of it. XD )

Their first few weeks back in the Material Plane are spent reconnecting with friends, finding a place to live in the city, and generally being a bit shell-shocked that they actually made it out, but eventually they start trying to make real plans for the future.

They're both huge saps, and Karlach has been denied so many traditional life events because of her time in the Hells, so even though they're basically already married, Hector definitely makes a big deal out of the proposal. He STUDIES the subject deeply to try and do it right, combing through all of Baldur's Gates libraries for examples of romantic gestures, and enlists Wyll's help.

(Wyll has shipped them aggressively this whole time and is super excited about the romance of it all. I haven't decided on the details of who, but he also got involved with someone during their time in the Hells so he's not alone either, bc Wyll deserves nice things to happen to him also. <3)

With Wyll's help, Hector arranges a trip outside the city to an inn that sits on a very tall hilltop. He does his "official" proposal while they're having a picnic at a spot that has a beautiful view of the entire city, from the Outer City on in. It's super romantic and they're both giant saps about it. They both cry. (And then have sex behind some nearby bushes in a lovestruck haze.)

They don't really plan a huge ceremony. Mostly it's about having all their friends there (even dragging Lae'zel back from the Astral), and making the same commitment publicly that they made privately years earlier.

Karlach becomes oddly nervous about it as the event draws closer. She has a very slight superstitious streak and is still after all these years gunshy of how her life went so fast to shit all at once, and part of her feels like making it "official" is asking for something bad to happen. Hector spends a lot of time being comforting and reassuring her.

They have a night wedding. This is Karlach's idea - she knows Hector has missed the moonlight and its associated connection with Selune in all the time they've spent in the Hells, even though he'd never complain about it, so she ensures that their wedding will be under the night sky on a night when the moon will be full or near so.

He insists, as a counterpoint, that she picks the location - she decides on a place in the Outer City near where she grew up, against the water.

Father Enric, the Abbot from Hector's monastery, travels to the city to officiate. There's no best man/maid of honor concept, but all of their companions from the Absolute adventure are lined up as part of the ceremony, as well as a few friends made during the campaign in Avernus.

The ringbearer is Buddy the owlbear, bearing the rings very carefully on a pillow resting on his head.

Wyll and Shadowheart take the lead on dressing the couple, neither of whom have the faintest clue how to put together an ensemble. (I spent way too long getting these screenshots so please appreciate how pretty my babies look. XD )

Karlach, contrary to all expectations, really enjoys getting gussied up in a dress and looking pretty; it's not an everyday thing for her but she enjoys it. Hector, conversely, feels INCREDIBLY out of his element in the fancy jacket Wyll arranges for him. Wyll teases him quite a bit about it while they're waiting for the ceremony to start.

The absolute cutest part of the whole ceremony, by unanimous vote from everyone present, is that they do the whole thing where the bride and groom aren't supposed to see each other before the ceremony. Jaheira and Shadowheart hang out with Karlach helping her get ready, and Wyll and Halsin hang out with Hector, and both groups report back later that their charges repeatedly tried to escape custody to go find each other early.

When Hector does finally see her as the ceremony is starting, he goes completely slackjawed and just stares at her like he cannot believe his luck.

Karlach forgets her lines halfway through the vows and just kisses him anyway. Hector remembers them all perfectly (of course) - he just forgets to speak when it's his turn because he's so busy looking at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes. He keeps trying to go for his usual super-composed vibe and just failing utterly.

All in all it's just a massive sap-fest. Both of them feel like they've earned it, though, after everything they've been through. (Hector does feel a little embarrassed that Enric sees him acting like such a dope and not showing any of his usual self-discipline. Enric thinks it's sweet though.)

They have a big party at a local tavern afterwards, one Karlach hung out at as a teenager all the time. The innkeeper still remembers her and gives them drinks on the house and everyone gets sloshed off their asses. Hector and Karlach try to dance and both of them are pretty not great at it but neither seems to much care.

They get back home at about four in the morning, still trashed. Both of them are exhausted and ready to fall asleep at a moment's notice, but Karlach mumbles something jokingly about not wanting to miss out on her wedding night. So they end up kind of curling up together and having drowsy, tipsy, super-soft sex, drifting in and out of sleep, extremely happy.

Neither of them really can think of anywhere they'd rather be, nor do they have a day job to take a vacation from, so they don't really have a honeymoon. But nobody sees hide nor hair of them after the ceremony for a good week. XD

Bonus nose squish kiss:

#hector carlisle #bg3 fic #karlach #karlach cliffgate #karlach x tav #tav x karlach #bg3 tav #custom tav #bg3 oc #bg3 fluff #i had too much fun with this XD #ty for the ask anon!#i may come up with more to add to this in the future haha #i always love talking about these two <3

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considerad · 5 months

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alright jesus christ, I'm making another "if shit goes down" post:

If something kicks off in *ran, which I cannot stress enough IS CURRENTLY AT PEACE (the rest of my family is taking their afternoon siesta as I write this and I've got my shower stuff set out for later; things are quiet af except for the birds and the occasional bad driver revving an engine), they will cut off the internet inside *ran before they do anything else. They want to control the narrative and make sure we don't get out our pleas for help/information on what'll be happening here.

I've already seen a post on here where people are cheering for "*ran" because they helped H*zbollah hit an *sraeli target... guys, that's not *ran. That's the I R G C, an extremist terrorist organisation that controls *ran's resources (incidentally, just like H*zbollah controls L*banon!). The *ranian people are being held hostage as a nation by the *RGC. We aren't them and they most certainly are not *ranians. Don't get it twisted. The *RGC is trying to kick off a direct war after a long while of fighting their proxy wars through Palestine and S*ria... and I don't know why the fuck it's happening now.

I'm in the middle of a programming course and I'm scrambling to do my homework for the next two weeks before the internet goes. I'm going to pack survival backpacks for my family tonight; water, money, id, antiseptic cream... and you know what's driving me up the fucking wall about all this? It's that all this is happening after vacuuming the whole fucking house for *ranian New Years, tidying all the fronds on the rugs with a comb until they all ran parallel, scrubbing hard water stains off the taps and the house plant leaves until they gleamed, making up a whole new blossom-print duvet-pillowcase set for the beds, buying pretty Soviet-print antique enamelware and ceramic water jugs for extra-cool water this summer...

I don't want to flee my own fucking house, so painstakingly cleaned and pretty and so recently full of guests for the New Year, to go where? Turkey? Armenia? And what the fuck for? Because the donkey testicles who've taken charge here don't care if we live or die?

Post from: Sat 13 April 2024

Note: I censor *ran and other nouns that are in the news rn because I'm at risk of being found here through keyword searches, account tracing, etc. They might still find me this way, but I don't want to make it that easy. If you see anyone openly heehawing about the *RGC or H*zbollah in my replies/reblogs, they've found this post despite my efforts.

If you interact with the post, however, PLEASE use the uncensored nouns in your tags/replies.

#yes free palestine #don't forget *ranians either please #we're still fighting the same fight against our oppressors that you heard about and supported us for in 2022 #and the European govts just told their citizens to leave *ran ASAP and at all costs #which we can extrapolate without being overdramatic to mean that there's a war coming.#thought #........fuck I'm not even sure why tf I'm posting this. I'm so fucking angry. This shit all the time...#free *ran #please talk about us too we're powerless and about to be embroiled in a war that has nothing to do with us #who the fuck even knows why

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spine-buster · 2 years

Text

That Which We Are, We Are | Nathan MacKinnon | Chapter 6

gif credit @/joeydaccord

A/N: IT'S THE AFTERMATH Y'ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR

Nate wasn’t going to let Sorcha get away with what she’d done. Not by a long shot. So after he rushed through his house, put a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth, gargled some mouth wash, and changed into some respectable clothes, he packed Cox into his car and headed for Halifax.

His jaw was clenched in anger the entire drive into the city. They’d had such a great night together, eating and dancing and talking about hip-hop music, getting closer and telling each other things from deep in their hearts, and then she up and leaves? Just flat-out escapes his house undetected with her dog and books it back home somehow, even though they’re in the middle of fucking nowhere? Sure, the sex was definitely unexpected, and a by-product of how much alcohol they’d consumed, but…well…despite all the wine, Nate knew what he was doing when he kissed her. He knew what he was doing when he groped her or squeezed her ass. He’d acted on impulse but he’d been wanting to do it for a while.

It was still fairly early in the morning when he arrived at her place, and when he did, he banged on the door loudly. He wasn’t going to hide his emotions. They were open and honest with each other from the beginning, and he was going to be open and honest now. He banged on the door again after a few seconds when she didn’t answer, and his impatience got the best of him as he pounded again not long after. Maybe she was ignoring him now. Because she had to have known that he’d be angry at her escape. Maybe she was—

—Wait.

Juno wasn’t barking. If he knew anything about German shepherds and Juno specifically, he knew she would bark at the door. She wasn’t.

Sorcha wasn’t home.

He swore under his breath before marching back to his car. He hit the steering wheel in frustration and let out a loud “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!” to try and release some steam. He took out his phone to call her. It rang until it went to voicemail. He called again immediately after, only for it to ring until it went to voicemail again. When he called for a third time, it rang only twice before going to voicemail, which meant she saw his name appear on Caller ID and refused the call.

Well, at least she was fucking alive.

Nate huffed and puffed as he started his car. He knew that she had to come back to her apartment from wherever she was at some point, but he wasn’t going to stake it out like some sort of undercover cop. He had better shit to do, like think about other ways he could try to contact her and ask her what the fuck was going on. Work email? Texts? Those could all be ignored. Those could also be used against him in a court of law, so they were nixed. More phone calls, maybe? Whatever Nate ended up choosing, he knew that she was at least going to get a rude awakening at work on Monday morning, that was for sure. Until then, he knew that his temper couldn’t get the best of him. He knew that he needed to calm down and actually think about what he was going to say to her besides just yelling and screaming. He began the drive to his parents’ house, knowing that just their presence alone would be able to calm him down. Plus, it was prime breakfast time. Maybe he’d talk to his dad about it, and he’d give some wise words of advice. He always did.

As Nate drove out to Cole Harbour, the streets of the neighbourhood he grew up in were all too familiar to him. Even them alone calmed him, since they brought back so many happy memories. As he turned on to his parents’ street, he drove by many of the houses of his friends from elementary school. He still remembered them all, even though friends had moved out long ago and only parents really remained. Caitlin’s house. Alex’s house. David’s house. Sorcha’s house. Ryan’s house. Scott’s house.

Sorcha’s house.

Sorcha’s house!!!

He stopped so fast and heavy on the brake pedal that his tired screeched. He put his car in reverse and backed up until he was right in front of their house, where he could see two cars out on the driveway. One, a BMW SUV, he knew for sure was her step-dad’s. The other, a black Civic, he knew for a fact was Sorcha’s. She’d mentioned it before.

The absolute nerve.

He parked in the driveway right behind her car, less than a centimetre from her bumper so she had no way out, at least by car. He took a deep breath to calm himself before getting out of the car and approaching the front door. He knocked politely instead of banging on the door like he did at her apartment, and almost immediately, he heard Juno barking.

Bingo.

After a few moments, he heard the front door unlock. When it opened, he came face-to-face with Dr. Dagar and Juno sniffing at his legs. Dr. Dagar’s face lit up at who was standing on his front porch. Clearly he watched hockey, or at the very least, remembered Nate. “Well look who it is!” he smiled.

“Hello Mr. Ibrahim,” Nate said politely. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well now that I see an NHL superstar on my front door,” he joked.

Nate chuckled. “I’m sorry to bother you this early – I’m sure you and Mrs. Ibrahim are having breakfast—”

“—we are,” Dr. Dagar said. “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh no no no, I couldn’t—”

“—nonsense! You actually came at the perfect time. Sorcha is here too,” he revealed. “She’s mentioned you recently reconnected. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you at the breakfast table,” he said, moving out of the way so Nate could step in to the foyer. “What brings you here, anyway?”

Sure she wouldn’t mind him at the breakfast table, eh? Nate would bet his entire earnings on the opposite of that being true. Regardless, Nate had to be quick on his feet. “Oh, well, we were actually hanging out the other day and she forgot something—and—and I was going to wait until I saw her again, but I figured she probably needed it sooner, and I was on my way to visit my parents, and—”

“—Say no more. Come, come, come,” Dr. Dagar motioned. Nate took off his shoes and followed Dr. Dagar through the house. For how long they lived there, and for how long Nate and Sorcha had been in school together, he’d never been inside the house. It was nice, and very homey, and reminded him a lot of the house he grew up in. There were pictures of the family smiling everywhere in frames. Juno trotted along beside them, and Nate could hear Mrs. Ibrahim and Sorcha talking.

When he showed up in the doorway, her face dropped. “Hello,” he smiled, more so at Mrs. Ibrahim than at Sorcha.

“We have a guest!” Dr. Dagar announced, extending his arms like a magician.

“Oh! Nathan! It’s you!” Mrs. Ibrahim exclaimed happily, getting up from her seat and walking straight over to him for a hug. “How are you? Come in, come in! Take a seat!”

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced—”

“—Nonsense! Sit! We have more than enough,” she said, even going so far as to pull out a seat from him, directly across from Sorcha, who was giving him a death glare. “Do you like scrambled eggs, Nathan? We have turkey bacon, too, because Dagar doesn’t eat pork, of course.”

“Both sound great, Mrs. Ibrahim.”

“It’s Maryanne, Nathan. You know that.”

“I think if my parents found out I called you anything besides Mrs. Ibrahim they’d smack me upside the head,” he joked.

Both Dr. Dagar and Mrs, Ibrahim let out hearty laughs. Sorcha was still giving him a death glare. Clearly there was no charming her, despite not needing to be charmed – it was her who would have to explain herself sooner rather than later. “How are Graham and Kathy doing? We see them every so often walking the goldens. Do they come visit you in Colorado?”

“They’re doing great, thanks for asking,” Nathan said as he watched Maryanne scoop heaps of scrambled eggs onto his plate. He made sure he looked at Sorcha’s plate and saw she was already done her breakfast. He planned to scarf his down so they could get out of there as soon as possible. “And yeah, they come visit quite often. Not as often as when I first started living alone, but—well, you know—”

“Can you believe Nate still didn’t know how to boil pasta at, like, 21?” were the first words out of Sorcha’s mouth since he walked into the Ibrahim household. “He was telling me one night at dinner.”

Before Mr. or Mrs. Ibrahim could say anything, Nate piped up, knowing he’d have to take the shot until he was able to get Sorcha alone. “I was a spoiled hockey player, what can I say,” he shrugged playfully, looking at her. “Not as good a cook as you are. That panzanella you made yesterday was incredible.”

Sorcha’s face dropped. Checkmate. He wasn’t fucking around.

“Oh! You two hung out yesterday?” Mrs. Ibrahim looked between the two. “How lovely! What did you do?”

“We just hung out at my place on Grand Lake,” Nate answered quickly, before Sorcha could lie. He watched as she squirmed in her seat.

“What did she forget that you have to return?” Dr. Dagar asked.

“Juno’s kennel,” he said. He wasn’t lying – she really did forget the kennel, and it was in the trunk of his car.

“Well, it’s nice to see you two reconnecting,” Mrs. Ibrahim said. “All those years in elementary and high school together – even growing up on the same street – and you never became friends.”

“Yeah. We have so much in common that we never realized. I think we’re making up for lost time now,” Nate replied, eyeing Sorcha. “Don’t you think?”

She was going to kill him. “Absolutely.”

Nate carried on a polite conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Ibrahim until he stuffed the last forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Sorcha stayed silent for most of it, eyeing Nate whenever he said something. It was only when Mr. and Mrs. Ibrahim began clearing the table and bringing everything to the kitchen that they got even a few seconds alone. “So are we going to talk or what?” Nate asked quickly.

“Do we have to?”

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t think she would have this immaturity in her. He would have to call the shots here. “Looks like I’m coming over yours when we’re done here,” he said.

“Nate, would you like some coffee, dear?” Mrs. Ibrahim called out from the kitchen.

“We’ve both gotta go, mom,” Sorcha said. “Nate does workouts in the mornings with Andy O’Brien.”

“Are you saying that name as if we should know who he is?” Dr. Dagar asked.

Sorcha smiled – a real, genuine smile for her step-dad. “No. Sorry dad. Don’t worry. But Nate’s gotta go.”

Nate and Sorcha said their goodbyes, and Mr. and Mrs. Ibrahim gave him warm hugs and told him to say hello to his parents, because of course they did, because they were good people, before he descended down the front porch steps. Sorcha followed him with Juno on a leash. It was only when they got to his car, parked on the street, that she said anything. They were far enough away that her parents wouldn’t hear her. “I guess I’ll see you at mine?” she asked as he popped his trunk.

“Of course. You’re not getting away with this,” he told her.

“I was hoping I could.”

“And why is that?”

Sorcha didn’t answer. She pulled Juno’s kennel out of his trunk and didn’t even meet his eye. “You remember your way, yeah?”

“Duh. It was just fucking yesterday, Sorsh.”

She didn’t say another word. Instead, she carried the kennel to her car, shoved it in the trunk, and loaded Juno into the backseat carrier. Nate watched the whole thing until he saw Sorcha walk over to the driver’s side and wave goodbye at her parents. Nate waved too before getting into his car. He drove off without waiting for Sorcha.

They arrived at her apartment at the same time. And without saying a word, they got out of their cars. Juno was none the wiser, wagging her tail at Nate. It was only when Sorcha stuck her key in the door that Juno became preoccupied with something else. When Nate followed Sorcha through the doorway and stepped through the entrance, he was surprised at how big and open her apartment was. He knew she described it as a loft, but he felt like a lot of people said ‘loft’ when they really just meant ‘big window’. This wasn’t that – this was a true loft. And the first thing that he noticed wasn’t the kitchen or the view or anything like that. It was the art. Her art. Scattered everywhere. Some hanging on the wall. Some on easels. Some stacked against a wall. Some sketches taped with painter’s tape. And they were beautiful, too – some portraits and others landscapes, so colourful and creative and beautiful.

“Wow,” Nate mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Sorcha deadpanned.

He hesitated, wondering if he should even bring it up. When he first asked about seeing her art many weeks ago, at their oyster dinner, she’d said “maybe” and that was it. There hadn’t been an invitation since – not that Nate asked or pestered her about it, though she’d brought up her art since then. Nate knew art was personal and for Sorcha specifically, it was an outlet where she could express herself after years of not being able to. “Your art,” he said, pointing haphazardly towards a stack of canvases on the furthest wall. “You’ve never let me see it before. It's incredible.”

“Thanks,” Sorcha said, her voice tight. “It was all I was doing in my sketchbooks while your friends were making whale sounds every time they saw me.”

Nate’s body stiffened. After Shane’s asinine behaviour last week at his house, Nate didn’t know when he’d not be able to cringe or get angry anytime someone brought up a memory from the past. “Sorsh, I—”

“—Don’t—I—it’s okay,” she waved him off. “That was—I don’t even know what I was thinking saying that. Just forget I said it.”

Nate stared at her, and in a gentle voice, he asked, “So are we gonna talk?”

It was the first time since Nate reconnected with her that Sorcha looked nervous. “What’s there to talk about?” she asked. He could tell she was attempting to make her voice sound void of emotion, but he knew that wasn’t the case. “We were two drunk idiots who had sex. It’s not that deep.”

Nate furrowed his brows. “What’s your deal?” he demanded. “Why would you say something like that?”

It was time for Sorcha to give him a look. “Because it’s true?” she said. “What else would it be? I freaked out, okay? I’ll admit that. I woke up at like three in the morning with a pounding headache and with you lying beside me in bed, and I freaked out. I grabbed my clothes, grabbed Juno, and got the hell outta dodge. And maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision to make, but it was the decision I made—”

“Sorsh, come ooonnn,” he lamented, walking towards her so they were now close. Nate couldn’t believe she was being so dense. But then a thought suddenly entered his mind. “Wait…” he said. “That wasn’t…that wasn’t your first time having sex, was it?”

If the beauty of Helen of Troy’s face could launch a thousand ships, then the scowl on Sorcha’s could have launched a million. “Oh, fuck off, Nathan!” she screamed. “Of course that wasn’t my first time, you idiot!!!”

“Then why are you freaking out so much?!” he demanded. “Why are you straight up refusing to talk to me?!”

“We were two drunk idiots, Nate. That’s it,” she said – trying to say it definitively. “We slept together because we were two drunk idiots.”

“I didn’t sleep with you because we were two drunk idiots,” he said. “I slept with you because I like you, Sorcha. Because I’m into you.”

They let the words hang in the air as they stared at each other with strained looks on their faces – Nate because he’d just revealed what he revealed to Sorcha, and Sorcha because…well, for all her confidence, there was still some shock in hearing the words be said out loud. “You’re what?” she asked.

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“Did you just say out loud that you’re into me?”

“I haven’t made it obvious in the past weeks?” Nate countered. “Every lunch or dinner we’ve had, every walk, inviting you up to my place…you honestly had no idea?”

“Nate…come on,” she almost begged. “I—you—you can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious about this?”

It was clear to Sorcha that Nate wasn’t joking – he was being completely serious. She knew what her feelings were, and now? To hear his too? That they were the same feelings she was having, the same feelings she’d felt for weeks? She didn’t think it was possible. She knew they had a lot in common now, that everything was going fine and dandy, but this? This? And it wasn’t because she didn’t think she was worthy of romantic feelings from Nathan MacKinnon – she knew she was totally worthy – it was because she didn’t think he’d ever say it. It was one thing to have feelings for the fat girl; it was another to admit it out loud. Usually people hid their feelings out of embarrassment, feeling shame for having feelings for someone that society didn’t deem conventionally attractive. But not Nate. The urge within her to deflect momentarily became stronger than her will to accept. “I don’t think I—”

Sorcha wasn’t able to finish her thought because Nate had kissed her. It was like those scenes in movies where couples were fighting and one of them shut the other up with a kiss. Except she and Nate weren’t a couple. Sorcha always thought that if that ever happened to her, she’d push the person away and yell at them for interrupting her. She still believed she would if it were anyone else besides Nate. With Nate, she didn’t. She didn’t push, she didn’t pull away, she didn’t do anything except kiss him back after quickly getting over the initial shock. His lips felt just as nice as they did last night. And she wanted his lips on hers. She did.

When Nate pulled away, their foreheads still together keeping them close, Sorcha gulped. “That felt good.”

Nate kissed her again, knowing she’d enjoy it. This time, instead of taking time to acclimatize, she kissed him back right away. They kissed again for a while before Sorcha pulled away. “I don’t think I should be hooking up with a guy who was complicit in my bullying,” she mumbled.

Nate kissed her again. He knew that was a lie. That she was just making up excuses so she could hear the sound of her own voice. So she could justify to herself…what exactly? She said she forgave him a long time ago. Twice. Three times, Nate thought.

Sorcha broke away again, far enough to look at Nate. “I didn’t mean that,” she mumbled again.

“I know you didn’t,” he said. “Will you just shut up and let me kiss you now?”

They kissed each other. Over and over and over. Over and over and over until Nate had to take a breath, over and over until Sorcha had to take a breath, over and over until she jumped and sat on her counter, over and over until Nate stood between her legs, over and over until their hands wandered along each other’s bodies, over and over until Sorcha ran her hands through Nate’s hair, over and over until – finally – they needed to take a serious breather or else they’d both pass out from a lack of oxygen.

Their foreheads were still pressed against each other’s. They were silent – only able to hear the sounds of their own breathing – before Sorcha spoke. “This isn’t much of a talk.”

Nate snorted, and Sorcha giggled, and soon they were laughing at the ridiculousness of her comment. “I think we’re doing pretty okay,” he commented.

“I’ll say.”

They were silent again. Nate brought his hand up, from her hip, and cupped the side of her face. “For the record,” he whispered, “I’ve changed just as much as you.”

Sorcha nodded. “I know,” her voice was soft. “I know you have. I was just being an idiot. I’m sorry. Our history is just a bit, well…muddled. I know we’ve been having a great time together, but it still came as a bit of a shock when you, like, said the words out loud. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I know that neither of us were expecting this when I showed up at your work asking you out for lunch. But I wouldn’t say something if I didn’t, like, mean it. And I mean this. I want you to know that. Can we both at least admit that we’re into each other?”

Sorcha couldn’t help but smile slightly. “We’re into each other.”

“Finally, you say it out loud.”

“Don’t push it,” she giggled slightly.

Nate couldn’t help but kiss her again. “You know what people who are into each other do?”

“What’s that?”

“They go over to the other’s house a lot,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “And I mean like, a lot.” Kiss. “Like, on weekends.” Kiss. “Next weekend, even.” Kiss.

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.” Kiss. “And maybe…”. Kiss. “They even go up on Thursday after work.” Kiss. “To get some alone time with each other.” Kiss. “Before the house party on Saturday night.”

Sorcha stiffened slightly at the revelation. “House party? Big house party? Everyone coming?”

“No. It’s not what you think,” he said. “Just Kehoe and Lucas. No Noah. No Shane. They’re not invited. But, like, Sid will be there, and I invited his best friend June, too. You’ll love her. And some of my cousins will be there. A couple of my other friends, and maybe friends of friends. But not Noah and Shane. I want you there more than anyone else. I just want you around with me.”

The last time Nate asked her to go up while others were going to be there, she said no – for obvious reasons. And though slow, Nate realized why she’d rejected the proposal. But now, with everything being out in the open, with their feelings known and the chemistry between them unmistakable, Sorcha had a different outlook on the situation. She wouldn’t just be there – she’d be there with Nate. And if it was mainly going to be Kehoe, Nate’s cousins, Sidney (who she’d probably fawn over all night, if she was being honest), and Sidney’s best friend June whom she would apparently love, then she was more than willing to go. No Noah, and especially no Shane, was like music to her ears. She cupped his face in her hands, running her thumbs along his thin lips softly. “I’ll see if I can take the day off Friday,” she whispered, making him smile.

“Perfect,” Nate smiled. “You and I are going to have so much fun, Sorcha Saint-Coeur.”

Sorcha smirked. “You’re going to get me into so much trouble, Nathan MacKinnon.”

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sunnyie-eve · 1 year

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Bruises(Pt.7)

Series: Never Leave You | OBX

Paring: (JJ Maybank x OFC! Rafe Cameron x OFC!)

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: Slight fighting, abuse, comforting, broken, friends kissing

Last | Next

Luckily Joey wasn't home nor was Tess so they didn't have to worry about questions. Getting out of her shower and dressed for the day she goes back to her room to see JJ laying in her bed.

"Laying here thinking while you were in the shower… when you wanted back up, you only yelled my name. Not Pope or John B." He looks over at her.

"I did?" She didn't realize she was only yelling for him.

"You did." He smiles.

"Guess you come to mind when I'm scared." She laughs combing her hair. "Now we need to head back to see the other to go see how much we can get for that gold." Callie pulls him up from her bed.

After melting down the bars best as Kiara could they head to the pawnshop to see how much they can get for it. They sell for 70,000 but the pawnbroker doesn't have that sort of cash and directs them to Resurrection Drive where there happens to be a warehouse holding their money.

As the group drives out there they get pulled over and has a shotgun pointed at them as they get down on the ground. John B sneaks into the car to stop the guy and they see it was Berry. JJ however, manages to corner him and knock him to the ground, taking his ID and figuring out where he lives. JJ heads to Barry's house and John B follows him in as the rest stay in the van.

"All right, we're looking at five grand each." The boys come out of the house.

"So we're robbing drug dealers now? He's going to find out and come after us." Callie looks at JJ.

He didn't care saying he wasn't putting it back. "We're sick of your shit." John B says so JJ looks at Callie.

"You're pulling guns on people…" She tells him so JJ takes off by himself with the money. "JJ!" Callie goes after him but John B stops her.

"Let him go. He needs a moment."

"I don't care if he needs a moment. He doesn't need to be alone." She tries to walk off so he grabs her arms pulling her back, "Let go of me, John B!" She tugs her arm free then walks off.

"JJ!" She runs to catch up to him out by the street.

"Go back, Callie. You're sick of my shit." He keeps walking.

"Just because you keep relying on that stupid gun you stole. I hate that you're stealing money from a drug dealer and I get you need it but come on." She catches up more.

"That stupid gun helped save John B that night."

"Yeah, it did but it also caused shit to lead up to you needing money to pay for Topper's boat. If you didn't pull a gun on Topper, Rafe wouldn't have jumped Pope, then Pope wouldn't have sunken Topper's boat, and finally, you wouldn't have to take the blame and pay it off." Callie makes him turn around.

"Just keep me in the friends' zone so you don't have to deal with my shit in any other way because you know how I am. Just fuck off, Callie. You're just another girl with a heartbeat I jump at and I'll move on to the next!" He turns around leaving her standing alone. He knew she could do better than him.

Callie didn't go back to the others and just went home but only if she knew what would happen when she got home. As soon as she stepped foot through the door she was slapped across the face by Joey seeing her aunt passed out on the ground with bruises.

"I'm sick of you acting like you can just run around for fun and not come home. You expect me to believe you aren't doing shit with your friends that are guys? Look at you!" He screams at her. "I won't have you acting up after we packed up to move out here for your ungrateful ass!" He shoves her back and she stumbles back onto the couch.

"All I do is stay over at a friend's house. I don't do anything you think I'm doing! Stop!" Callie screams as he pulls her up ripping her shirt in the process shoving her against the wall. "Don't touch me!" She tries to fight him away but his hand grabs her by the throat making her claw at his arm.

"I do what I want to you bitch!"

"No!" She knees him in the junk running upstairs with him following her close behind pulling tugging her back so she tumbles down the stairs.

"Do you want to be punished?" He grabs a fist full of her hair pulling her head up off the floor.

"No, Sir." She cries in pain.

"Then stop crying you little bitch." He hits her and her bottom lip starts to bleed. Joey rolls her over straddling her so she tries to fight back getting bruises from him holding her arms down. "If you apologize, I'll stop. That's all I want."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Joey." She stops fighting so he gets up leaving the room. Callie goes over to her aunt and walks her up.

"What happened? I'm okay." Tess says not remembering the fight since her head bounced like a basketball off the floor. "Go to your room." She tells Callie so she goes to her room locking the door behind her.

Callie stays in her room for most of the day before deciding to sneak out. By the time she gets to John B's, Pope and Kiara show up getting out of the truck.

"Hey, what happened to your lip?" Pope sees her lip.

"I kinda had a little tumble down the stairs when I was rushing." She laughs it off until lights and a generator went off.

"What the hell?" They walk around to see JJ in a hot tub and lights decorating the tree.

"What did you do, JJ?" Pope asks.

"I got a jet going straight in my butt right now. Y'all should get in immediately, you hear me? Salud!" He pours himself more to drink and Callie felt terrible seeing him like this.

"How much did this cost?" Pope asks him.

"Uh… Well, with the generator, the petrol, and oh, hey, express delivery… pretty much all of it, yeah." JJ lists.

"You spent all of it in one day?" Callie sighs.

"Yeah, burned a hole right through my pocket. But, I mean, like, come on, guys, like, look at this! Finest in jet-based massage therapy, that's what they told me. What? Can't a man have a little luxury in life? Come on, all this scrimpin' and scrapin'… I mean, like… guys, we- You only live once, right? Enough of this nonsense emotional shot. Get in the Cat's Ass. Come on." He tells them and Callie tears up since he was miserable right now.

"In the what?" Kiara asks.

"In the Cat's Ass. That's what I named her. Oh, hey, yo, I almost forgot. Yeah, that's right, I know. Disco mode. That's right, baby." JJ turns it on.

"Are you kidding me? You could have paid for restitution!" Pope shouts at him.

"Or literally given it to any charity!" Kiara adds.

"Or better yet. You could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!" Pope adds.

"Okay, well, you know what? I didn't do that!" JJ stands up and they see the new bruises on him. "I got a hot tub! For my friends. I got a hot tub for my friends. You know what? No, you know what? Screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family! Look what I did for you!" JJ rants so Callie gets in the hot tub pulling him into a hug so he breaks down. "I just couldn't do it." She cradles his head as his arms pull her closer around her waist not wanting to let her go. "I can't take him anymore! I was gonna kill him."

"It's okay. We're here for you. I'm here for you." Callie cries holding him tighter.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said." He cries more.

"I know." She runs his back as Kie and Pope join the hug.

"I just want to do the right thing." JJ cries.

"I know." Kie cries.

They all group hug for a bit before each one backs away. JJ lifts his head leaning back some to look at Callie's face seeing her busted lip, "Why do you have this? Where else are you hurt." He stops hugging her to check her everywhere. She had small bruises on her arms from when Joey grabbed her and buries in other places from tumbling down the stairs.

"I'm fi-,"

He cuts her off, "You're not fine, Callie. I promised to be with you 24/7 to make sure he never lays a hand on you again and I failed!" JJ slaps the water.

"Stop it." Callie grabs his hands stopping him while the other two watch them. "You can't literally be there 24/7. You go through things and I do the same sadly." She looks him in the eyes as he clams down.

"You're not just another girl with a heartbeat. And I promise you that I'm not going to jump to the next. My ass is staying on the line of the friend zone for you." JJ grabs her face wanting her to believe his words.

"You better stay there." She pulls him back into a hug before getting out of the hot tub. "I can't stay here tonight or I'm screwed and I don't want to push Joey after today. See you guys tomorrow. And I'll be fine." Callie looks at JJ before jogging home sneaking back into her room.

After she changes out of her wet clothes there was knocking downstairs then a one at her door after a few minutes. When she opens it she didn't expect Rafe standing on the other side.

"I have a few things to tell you." He walks into her room shutting the door behind him. "So you Pogues are robbing drug dealers now, huh? You know the guy you robbed is a bad man, right?" Rafe walks up to Callie making her back away from him.

"I'm very aware of that, Rafe. Because he tried robbing us first while pointing a gun at us." She crosses her arms, "If that's all you have to say, you can leave now."

"Listen, he gave me this, okay? This was just being late in a payment." He shows her his forearm, "You guys stole from him. What do you think he's gonna do to you?"

"Why do you care?! We're not friends, Rafe. Like not even a little bit. You literally have jumped my friends more than once." Callie laughs at him, "I get telling Sarah because she's your sister but me?"

"You're too pretty too get hurt." He walks closer again so she backs up again.

"Rafe, get out of my house. I can handle myself, thanks for caring when you don't need to." Callie walks towards her door but he grabs her wrist pulling her into a kiss. Her brain stops working for a second before shoving him away from her, "Get out Rafe!"

Rafe leaves and Callie hears him take off as JJ walks into her room, "What was Rafe doing here?" He looks at her.

"Came talking about stealing from Barry." Callie turns to look at him.

"I just want to go to bed." JJ plops face down onto Callie's bed. "It's been such a long day. Almost get robbed, I rob someone, I tell my father I got the money for the restitution but he wanted it to bet on shit, so I just go buy a hot tub and get yelled at for doing it." JJ mumbles before rolling onto his back with open arms.

Callie lays down on top of him with her head in the crook of his neck while his hands start to wander under her shirt, feeling her skin underneath his palms. His soft touch felt good and made Callie feel safe with him. "Cupcake." JJ whispers so she'll pick her head up to look at him.

"Huh?" She does exactly what he wanted so he could crash his lips into hers. Callie's left arm went up his chest into his hair to make him closer to her. Even though they were already chest to chest they kept trying to be closer to one another. When Callie finally broke the kiss so she could breathe again, JJ rested his forehead against hers.

#obx #outer banks #obx ff #obx jj #obx john b #obx kiara #obx sarah #obx pope #obx rafe #jj maybank #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope hayward #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #jj mayback imagine #obx jj maybank #rudy pankow #rafe cameron imagine

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spricket-central · 11 months

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alright, ive finally finished picking out all of the eggs from baguette and donuts old substrate, and im ready to announce the final count from the first Rice Census ive done since croutons passing in july.

the number of eggs baguette has laid from 10/5/23 to 11/10/22 is...

...469

i shit you not.

id originally been grouping the eggs into groups of 10, but had to combine them into groups of 20 bc i was running out of room on the plate

then i had to cluster those into groups of 100s so i could count them easier.

and this is a LOW estimate, because these are just the ones i was able to spot! i guarantee theres a non-zero number of eggs that i missed while combing through the substrate. it could realistically be even closer to 500.

so, basically.....

THATS A LOTTA RICE!!!!!

#insects #pet bugs #bugblr #invert pets #crickets #camel cricket #spider cricket #cave cricket #spricket #rhaphidophoridae #baguette #eggs #rice census #reproduction #pics #research

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talisidekick · 1 year

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Catear Update

Alright, alright. This took a bit. A lot of personal stuff happened that delayed the progress on this. I'm sorry. But I made a promise because you all voted on that stupid poll (and almost made me wear a tail in public), so here's the progress:

After spending over $50 on a 12in. by 12in. square of 2in. long rust-coloured faux fur (I'm never buying from the US again, it was $10 for the fur, but like $40 in shipping) that took a month to arrive, I took a look at like hundreds of videos that were completely unhelpful in assisting me make catears at all. I then asked my spouse for help because I ... embarrassingly don't know how to sew ... and we started with something simple that I forgot was probably step 1 ...

[Start ID: A photo graph from my terrible Samsung J6 camera of a cardboard piece cut from a cereal box with a bad tracing/template of catears in pencil on it. There's a pair of pliers with blue grips, a red mechanical pencil, some shaping wire, and a wide plastic headband atop it. /End ID]

... drawing a template on spare cardboard. My spouse was also smart(er than me by a lot) and bought some plastic headbands that are just ... way more comfortable than the metal wire ones for like $9 CAD. The band is wider and it hurts less. With a shitty template and apparently we had wire for some reason? I was expecting to have to go out and spend like $15 CAD on some but hey, we hoard shit 'cause we're poor and it pays off.

With the sewing machine set up, Watch came to pay a visit to supervise.

[Start ID: Another shitty picture from my Samsung J6 of Watch, my black cat with yellow eyes, peering through at my spouse (off camera) through the sewing machine. /End ID]

She later discovered she didn't like the sound of the sewing machine and ran off. But you can see a bit of the faux fur we're dealing with on the left.

It's a good time to mention my spouse decided to get super high AF because they're off for a few days and despite being ... inebriated as heck, they powered through. There was only one fuck-up, and I take the blame for that. Some of the fur didn't get stitched right so we'll have to redo the seam, but a less high Witch from the following day has found an easier way to rectify that issue than just trying again and seeing what happens. I don't understand it, but they're confident so I'm going to learn what the heck they were talking about by seeing sometime later this week (I hope). The current state:

[Start ID: A picture (still from my terribly Samsung J6 camera), of all the tools used: a comb to manipulate the fur, pliers to shape the wire, a pencil for the template, pins to hold the fabric together, scissors to cut through thick fabric, a pin cusion that looks like an orange with an attached red chilli-pepper pin sharpener, bent wire, a sewing machine, a headband, and the current status of the catears being stitched together to vaguely look like catears. /End ID]

Part of being a hoarder ... sorry "stingy" is that we had some faux fur in white from some tiny pillow-case we just never got around to getting a pillow for. This worked perfect for the inside of the ears. The stitching done on this is amazing and has a little loop so the wire can be threaded through. I explained this idea poorly to my spouse who then had a brainwave mid-job and executed it 10x better than I had badly explained it ... please note, while high as heck and with no concept of time. We had to stop here for now because reality just wasn't sticking for my spouse at this point, so I cleaned up so our cats wouldn't get up to mischief. As explained earlier, there is a flaw with one of the ears, it'll have to be restitched, but apparently there's a way to fix it involving a sort of 'holding stitch', not sure what that means, but I'll find out when we do this later this week (hopefully).

The ears, as they stand, actually don't really "need" the wire to hold their shape, the stitching does all the work here. The wire will just be there for stability and to somehow attach it to the band (not sure how yet, we're crossing that bridge when we get to it). We're apparently not using glue for any of this because my spouse decided to go for durability. Which I agree with. These may just be my every-day ears for the next bit.

Anywho, there's the progress update some of you have been wanting. I hope to have a finished product soon. We've learned a lot on this, and I do want to make more so the next set will be completely done by my hands (ideally), but right now my spouse is here because I can't sew for shit and they decided to use this as a tutorial for me.

#talisidekick #talisidekick things #catears

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