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wizardouxie · 3 years

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PANTONE 2046 C

Genre: Fluff, #ZoeAppreciationWeek

Pairing: Zouxie

Summary: The Pink Hair Origin Story (alternatively also the Blue Hair Origin Story)

Word Count: 2788

Author's Note: First day of Zoe Appreciation Week! Wanted to participate so have this not so little one shot to showcase our lovely pink haired witch <3

"Wow, the dye came out really nicely," Zoe murmurs as Douxie exits the bathroom, his hair freshly blown dry -- from its tips to the full bangs dipped in a deep yet striking blue. He smiles widely at the quiet compliment and waves over to Archie.

"How does it look Arch?" they ask, though the answer is pretty clear, if Archie's fond gaze is anything to go by. The familiar flies in to nuzzle his face.

"Dashing as ever, Douxie."

Zoe leans back into the couch with content, taking in the beautiful sight that is her best friend. She did really good. The faint buzz of adrenaline lingers on the pads of her fingers. Right, she forgot. That was her first time.

"Are. You. Crazy? I've never even dyed hair before!" the natural brown haired girl hissed. She begrudgingly wiped the bubblegum that had exploded over her lips -- a result from the initial shock when Douxie first made his request. Granted, she felt honored that they would come to her before anyone else, but still! She can't risk ruining his hair, she doesn't have experience, plus the hair salon could totally do it better and-

"I'd rather it be you than anyone else," the wizard confirmed firmly. Zoe turned to the familiar. Surely the cat who lived with this stubborn kid could knock some sense into them. Archie could only provide a shrug in response.

"They're pretty sure about this."

She groaned.

"Fine, fine! But give me a few days unless you want me to pick out the wrong dye and end up with neon green."

[ 1 Week Later ]

Zoe couldn't keep track of just how many hair channels and blogs she'd gone through. She mimicked their hand movements, using cheap wigs and mannequin heads to simulate the experience. Through it all, one voice echoed the same message: "You can't mess this up."

She bought all the necessary tools. Gloves, hair clips, bleach, foil, just to name a few. Oh, and of course the dye -- though you'll be surprised how one can forget the simplest things while getting caught up in trying to memorize everything. Blue, Douxie had asked for. But what kind of blue? Sky blue? Cobalt? Midnight? Which one? She pinched the bridge of her nose before angrily texting the wizard. It went a little something like this:

DOUX: go with whatever you think will look good! i'm fine with anything tbh :]

ZOE: i Hate you so much

DOUX: ??? WHY

ZOE: IDK SHIT ABOUT HAIR DYE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD

DOUX: let's talk about this in person before you electrocute your phone again

ZOE: you won't let me live that down will you

DOUX: you know me so well ;)

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. There's no way she was actually doing this for him.

She was.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" she asked for what would be around the 73rd time. Douxie pulled his face down with both hands.

"Ugh, the answer is still yes, love. I'm not asking you to dye the whole thing, just the front part, bangs and sides."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and smacks the clean brush against his head. She smiles at the little 'ow' that Douxie lets out with a pout. Hm, cute.

"Alright, but don't start moping around if it doesn't come out the way you wanted it!"

"Nothing that a little magic can't fix if it gets to that point. Which I hardly believe it will."

And now here they are.

Douxie crashes on the couch with Zoe, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at the sudden physical touch, but it's never unwelcome. Not when it comes to him.

"You know of all human creations, I gotta say, this one really takes the cake," they start and Zoe snorts.

"You say that about nearly everything."

"Can you blame me?"

She looks at them and no, she really can't. In fact, she finds herself agreeing with him. He looks... really nice. A faint blush spreads over her face; not that it is noticeable by any means -- the two of them happen to have done this dying process starting from the evening to night, so the dim lights in her home do little to highlight her features. This is still her Douxie, lovable guitarist and wizard nerd who cares about everyone. Yet there was something about the hair dye that changed things up a bit. Something good, naturally.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, doing whatever is usually available. Sometimes it's texting, scrolling through social media, or listening to music. Other times it's zoning off and reminiscing about the past.

Zoe decides to go for her phone, unconscious of the way her hand finds its way into Douxie's hair, carding through the locks and untangling them with nimble fingers. It's peaceful. Maybe even a little too peaceful, considering the two of them are adrenaline junkies.

"Douxie, I can hear you thinking..." she begins. It's a common way to start the conversation between them, and oftentimes she's right.

He turns around, her hand still in his hair, but enough to meet her eyes. Their own eyes look serious and her heart sinks. Were they not happy with their hair?

The answer is quite the opposite.

"You ever considered dying your hair too? Maybe we can match."

The untangling stops.

And then the tugging starts.

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hisirdoux Casperan you are a menace to society."

She does though. She considers it for weeks. Of course, Douxie doesn't push; it's her hair at the end of the day, she can do whatever she likes. But after seeing how well she did with the wizard, she kinda felt excited. She definitely can't forget the exhilaration she felt when she saw people compliment Douxie at Benoit's or at the GDT book store. Her heart started beating faster when he looked back at her with a proud smile on his face-- damn that wizard, they told the others that she did it for them, didn't they?

After a few days, a young girl in a cap comes up to her at the record store. Probably from Arcadia High, if her backpack stacked with books is any indication.

"Hi! I'm Claire. Claire Nuñez," the girl starts. Zoe raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Hey Claire. What can I get you?" she asks, raising a flask to her lips. There's no water. Damn.

"Um, it's not really a standard request, but um, I was wondering if you could dye my hair?"

Zoe chokes on her water. Dye her what?

"Kid, are you new here? This is a records store. I can give you the direction to the hair salon it's really not that far."

"No, no, no! It's just, this guy got their hair dyed and I asked if he did it himself and they said you did it for them so I came to you. It's nothing too big! Just a strand really," Claire rambles. She gestures to the invisible front of her hair, currently tucked away behind the cap, outlining it with her fingers. The hedge witch groans.

"That would be Douxie. Now, here's the thing I don't do this for just anyone. Douxie happens to be a close friend so what I did was a little gift for him. I don't even know you, so what do I get out of this?"

Claire pales.

"Uh, $20? I know a full head of hair costs way more but like I said, just a strand..."

Zoe's stomach rumbles in response. She had $5 currently in her wallet which could buy a snack at most. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm hungry. Catch me after my shift is done okay? And I only got one color on me, which is blue, you good with that? Otherwise bring your own."

"Yes of course, of course! Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, now scram if you're not here to buy anything."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if you had anything Papa Skull released recently!"

Curse this girl and her good taste in music.

[ 45 minutes later; 2:00 PM ]

"Thank you for doing this by the way," Claire starts. Zoe waves it off. She doesn't really know why she agreed to this. Well kind of. She wanted to eat. But besides that, she also was curious to see if she could satisfy another "customer". Hair dying was never a profession she had properly considered and right now? It doesn't hurt to entertain a thought.

"Alright so I have the bleach, you'll need to let that set in and keep that before dying the strand you want. We can even add toner to neutralize the color post bleaching if necessary," she lists off. Claire shakes her head.

"That won't be necessary!"

The girl pulls off her cap and surely enough, there's a light blonde lock, similar to Douxie's, just a little lighter. Zoe's impressed.

"Well that definitely makes my job easier. Especially since this is my second time."

"Wait, second time?"

"You didn't know?"

"No?"

"Of course Douxie leaves that part out. You want out? I'll pay you back the $20 in four days."

"No, I trust you."

Zoe always believed that she had tough and cold demeanor. Clearly she's doing something wrong if people are finding her trustworthy just by looking at one dye job.

"Alright then, here we go! Don't say I didn't warn you," the witch replies. She wraps the cloth around Claire softly, and pulls up the bowl with the dye in it. With a gloved hand she separates the pale strands from the brown ones. The blue will definitely be more prominent here than it would be with Douxie's. Something tells her that Claire wouldn't mind.

From the looks of Claire's surprise, wonder, and delight, she definitely didn't mind.

"It. Looks. So cool! You're really good at this. Maybe you should start a hair dying salon or something," the girl rattles off. Zoe raises a hand.

"I'm already working two part time jobs so... no. But I'm glad you liked it. The blue looks really good. Stands out well."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Claire repeats, putting back her cap on. A feeling of confusion overcomes Zoe.

"Wait, why are you putting your cap back on? Don't you want to show people?"

"Duh, but um, my mom doesn't know about, uh, all this. You know, councilwoman things."

Zoe's mouth drops, the $20 bill crumpled in her hand. So that's why she didn't go to the hair salon. Nuñez is the councilwoman, so she'd know pretty much everyone in the town. And word spreads pretty fast. In summary: Claire would have gotten caught.

"See ya!"

These kids are going to land her in some serious trouble one day.

With a burger and soda in her tray, Zoe takes a seat and pulls out her phone. That Claire girl though, she's sort of inspiring. Adventurous. Not hesitant in taking chances. And you know Zoe, she absolutely loves the thrills of life. Whether it be hunting magical creatures or refining her usually unpredictable magic. The humans tend to have mellow definition of risk taking, in her opinion, but their examples are fun enough in their own way: crossing the speed limit, riding rollercoasters, anything along those lines. The brunette clicks on a familiar contact and begins typing.

ZOE: which color looks good on me

ZOE: don't ask it's for a stupid job thing

DOUX: which job?

ZOE: WHAT PART OF DON'T ASK

ZOE: hex tech, something for employee uniforms

DOUX: i was going to say pink since it brings out your eyes but if it's for uniforms i dunno, light blue?

ZOE: hm interesting

DOUX: you should just work here at the book store it's chill

ZOE: but then i'd have to deal with you

DOUX: now is that really a bad thing?

DOUX: zoe.

Light blue is definitely a no go, Zoe decides. Too much blue dye going around. But pink, hm she could work with that. It's a pretty bold color and it would compliment her eyes as well as her face in general. A win-win for her.

And as for how far she's willing to go? She decides to go all in. No tips, no ombre, just complete bubblegum hair. Of course this takes a few days to gather the guts.

'You can do it Zoe, just go for the bleach,' she thinks to herself. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement. Frankly, hunting niffins didn't compare to the rush she's feeling right now. She closes her eyes and brings the brush to her hair.

Well, here goes nothing.

She winces as she feels the tingling sensation, but loads of videos have assured that such symptoms were normal. She continues to work at it, using the foil to make sure she doesn't bleach a part of her hair to death. It's long and strenuous, but she knows the results in the few coming weeks would be worth it.

She doesn't have to worry about Douxie finding out thankfully. Turns out these weeks are essential for Merlin's "To-Do" List. Apparently it was to find Camelot?

"The castle he means. Not the actual kingdom. That's been gone for centuries. Anyways, I'll be back once I actually find it. Dunno how I'll do it and it probably will take me and Arch a month or so, haha. Oh! And if my hirers ask you anything, it's a family emergency."

Hm, whatever. A brief thought of Merlin dying his hair neon green amuses her, before she goes back to watching more hair dye videos. They've become a little addicting nowadays. She's amazed at how often people do it. How do they keep their hair so healthy?

It's been four weeks now and Zoe's eyes stare at the pink concoction in her hand. PANTONE 2046 C. This was the shade that stole her heart in the middle of the hair dye aisle. No other color could compare in the slightest. Even the cashier who packaged her order hummed in approval.

"Nice color! Not many go for it, but it'll suit you for sure."

This time her movements are calculated, not clumsy or fear driven like it used to be. One could even say she's getting the hang of this. Her hair over time changes from platinum blonde to a dark matted pink. She lets it sit for a bit, meanwhile focusing on getting the dye out of her hands. This turns out to be harder than she thought and she sighs. Well, maybe another day.

After washing and blow drying her hair, she stands in front of the mirror. The witch staring back at her is almost unrecognizable. As if she were a new person completely. And she liked it.

The blank stare shifts into a grin and she tugs at her own locks. Goddamn. She looks really good.

And well, Douxie's reaction is priceless to say the least.

DOUX: you said to meet up at the museum where are you

DOUX: i swear if you slept in i'll send archie to knock down everything in your apartment

DOUX: ok no i won't but still it's been a month since we last saw each other come on

DOUX: wait a second

DOUX: you're joking

DOUX: IS THAT??? YOU????

DOUX: IN THE PINK

DOUX: oh fuzzbuckets you look stunning

DOUX: Hello this is Archie. You broke Douxie so could you please finish your conversation with whoever it is you're with and come pick him up? Your hair is absolutely lovely by the way.

ZOE: omfg

ZOE: can't take you guys anywhere

The witch smiles at the girls and nods over to a gaping Douxie and his cat before gracefully exiting the conversation. She approaches her friend and pushes his jaw up with her index finger.

"So I'm assuming you're digging the new look hm?" she teases.

"You have no idea," Douxie responds. A pink tint lighter than the shade of her hair blooms across Zoe's face at the expression of adoration in her best friend's eyes. The two of them have been through a lot together, seeing each other grow and change. And this time, it was a really fun and welcome one.

"I might try this again with a different color some time. You wanna join then?"

"Don't have to ask me twice."

It's crazy how all of this came from a chaotic, impulsive research project to help a friend. But honestly Zoe wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe Douxie was right. Of all human creations, this one beats pretty much everything else.

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #zoeappreciationweek #here's my entry hehe #enjoy!#toa #tales of arcadia #zoe #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #zouxie #archie #claire #claire nuñez #ophelia #ophelia nuñez

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redysetdare · 8 months

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for how welcoming like to pretend it is the disability community on here has been the most hostile and unwelcoming community I've experienced.

maybe it's just the posts I'm getting... tumblr seems to think I'm interested in discourse posts for disability. But i just know each one i see has made me feel worse and worse for calling myself disabled.

first i see posts that are other disabled ppl shitting on my mental illnesses or neurodivergencies - acting as if that's not disabling or disabled enough. then there's so many people who don't explain what "Physically disabled" means other than "You are physically disabled". which from my experience ppl usually only ever talk about disabilities that effect your movement or legs. leaving me to wonder if needed glasses count? if having stomach issues count? if back chronic migraines count? my back pain and knee pain? what about hyperhydrosis? not to mention the fact my mental illnesses can make these symptoms worse - does that mean they don't count because they connect to my mental disabilities? i take 5 different medications a day to try to negate my side effects for everything im suffering with. I don't know whats enough and the one place i look to for even the slightest bit of relief and validation is met with hostility and "you don't belong here" and it sucks!!!!

im sure some ppl have fantastic time in disability spaces but as someone who's still trying to be able to call themselves disabled after everyone around me told me I wasn't in enough pain or was too young to be in the pain i claimed to be.... it really sucks to not have support and only be met with discourse post after discourse post.

maybe I'm on the wrong side but idk how to find the right side. I'm tired. I just need someone to say that my suffering is enough. maybe then i won't have to suffer alone.

#text #disability #personal #part of me knows i am disabled that normal people arent suffering this much #normal people dont feel this much pain #but it's hard to accept when everyone around you says your over-exaggerating and it's not a big deal #things have just been progressively getting worse and idk man im really needing ppl who understand right now becuz i dont have anyone

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neon-junkie · 3 years

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Duality - Chpt.4

Summary: There’s a handful of things you hate, like the men who continue to pester you at the Saloon after you’ve told them no, or the way strangers look at you when you decide to wear pants. But the one thing you hate that most is Micah Bell. But if you hate him so much, then why are you allowing him to wrap his hand around your neck as he grinds his crotch down against yours? Is he using you? or are you using him?

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: lots idk its multi-chapter

Rating: NSFW

[First chapter] [next chapter not posted yet]

It's funny how Micah somehow guessed the perfect size for your new lingerie. Maybe he's held you one too many times, making a mental note of how each part of your body feels in his hands. You can picture that vividly, Micah explaining to the tailor that your breast size is "this big," as he holds his hands out in a cupping motion. You pray he hasn't actually done that, but this is Micah Bell, after all. You pull on the laces of your new corset, fastening yourself up, and then shrug a pretty yet simple dress on. Today seems pleasant, well, it looked pleasant when you peered through your tent flaps this morning, groggy and half-asleep. There's nothing wrong with being a little vain, and you enjoy putting extra effort into your appearance today, fitting in your new lingerie like a glove, and dolling yourself up to... do chores... At least you're doing your chores in style!

The effort in your appearance hasn't gone unnoticed, as many camp members throw compliments your way, along with curious pairs of eyes that trail over your figure for a few moments too long, not that you mind. The camp women are particularly kind, not that they aren't to begin with, fussing and gushing over how pretty you look. Maybe this is what you needed? a day to doll yourself up and soak up all the compliments you receive? and maybe you'll do it more often, seeing as you're feeling rather wonderful today. But all good things must come to an end... you find yourself at Pearson's wagon, chopping vegetables for tonight's supper, sliding another batch off your chopping board straight into the stew pot. It's a boring job, but it beats scrubbing laundry for hours on end, constantly feeling defeated as everybody's clothes are so stained that it's impossible to get them clean. As always, you're minding your own business, your head dipped down, focusing on the task at hand. Of course, you don't notice your partner approaching, but your ears perk up as he lets out a long whistle. "My, oh my," Micah comments. "I didn't realize it was my birthday, but I appreciate you dressin' up for such a special occasion," Micah flirts as he trails over, leaning his weight against the table. He's eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat, and you notice the way he licks his lips. "Mister Bell," you monotonously greet him, "bold of you to assume I dress for anybody but myself," you jab back. Micah lets out a long and irritating laugh, drawn out for longer than necessary. He peers over his shoulder, checking to see if anybody is nearby, before scooting a little closer to speak directly to you. "Guess you are dressin' for me when you're wearin' the lingerie I brought you," he grins. You double-check your surroundings, and once you're happy with how empty the coast is, you lean across the table, speaking under your breath. "It's a replacement, considering you ruined my last set," you remind him, shaking your head as you speak. Yet again, Micah chuckles. "And I'll ruin this set too," he smirks, and you unfortunately know that's a promise. "And then you'll have to buy another replacement," you tut. "That's fine by me. I ain't short on cash, sweetheart. I'll buy and ruin as many as I like." "I ain't your sweetheart, I told you that last night," you grumble under your breath. You straighten your back, and speak slightly above your normal tone of voice, "now if you'll excuse me, Mister Bell, I'm quite busy here," you brush him off, returning to chopping vegetables. "Oh, I do apologise for taking up your precious time, darlin'," Micah sarcastically replies, raising his hands innocently as he moves his weight off the table. "I'll leave you to it," he says with a soft laugh, then turns heel and wanders back through camp, probably debating which victim to pester next. Your brows furrow as you watch him leave, grumbling to yourself. He knows damn well that neither of you are meant to bring your business into camp, and he especially knows that you're not meant to openly talk about it. Somebody could be lurking nearby, somebody could be on the other side of the wagon, accidentally stumbling upon this juicy piece of information. The camp loves gossip, and something like that would spread like a wildfire. You hate how vividly you can picture it, the faces of everybody scowling your way as they find out that you're sleeping with a pest that you claim to hate. You've had one too many fights with Micah, both inside and outside of camp; imagine how hypocritical people would find you if they suddenly found out that you enjoy his company when nobody else is around. Honestly, what else did you expect? Micah rarely ever keeps his word, and you're surprised that he did when he said he'd buy you replacement lingerie. Oh well, that conversation is done now, and you'll have to keep on your toes around camp, just in case Micah decides to try and pull something stupid on you.

By the time evening rolls around, your body is exhausted. You've fastened your corset a little too tight this morning, although at the time it felt comfortable. After slipping into something loose and cosy, you start your final chore for today - guard duty. Lenny makes a passing comment about how tonight is quiet and boring, as always, and wishes you luck as he hands you the rifle.

Lenny was right, this is boring. You're currently leaning against a tree on the outskirts of camp, the rifle gripped loosely in your hands; you can feel yourself nodding off, your head dipping and your eyes falling shut. Unlike others, you try to take your jobs seriously, so you push your weight off the tree, doing another lap of the camp in an attempt to wake yourself up.

As you pass by a lantern, you take out your pocket watch, checking how long you have left before you can finally crawl into bed. It's 2am, one hour to go. You make your way down one of the paths leading into camp, eventually dipping off into the trees once you meet the entrance; you never normally trail this far from camp, but why not shake things up a bit?

"Fancy meetin' you out here," Micah comments out of nowhere, making you jump out of your skin, almost dropping your rifle.

"Shit, Micah!" you snap at him, "why you gotta scare me like that?"

"Ain't you on guard duty? you ain't doin' a very good job," he snickers, leaning his weight against a nearby tree, his hands resting on the waistband of his pants. Usually, Micah would rest his hands on his gun belt, but he's stripped of most clothing tonight, wandering around in his simple pants, shirt, and hat.

"I must be more tired than I thought, I'm surprised I didn't notice a buffoon approaching me," you jab back, rolling your eyes at his comment. No doubt, Micah has been stalking you for some time, waiting for the right moment to give you a sudden wakeup call.

"Oh, doll, you poor thing. You want me to go and warm your bed up for you?" Micah taunts, making you grip your rifle tighter. He lets out a chuckle, noticing how angry you look, even through the darkness of the trees.

"What is it with you?" you snap. "Did you really come out here just to pester me?!"

"Mhm," Micah agrees with a nod. He shifts his weight off the tree, taking a few steps over to you, bridging the gap. Before you can swat him away, his hand is pulling at your neckline, peering down your blouse. "Why ain't you wearing the lingerie that I brought you?" he asks, pouting dramatically.

"Off," you command, slapping his hand away. Micah begins to laugh, and without thinking, you slap him across the face, cutting his laughter short.

"Oooh," Micah sighs, giving his cheek a rub. "Not very friendly tonight, are we?"

"I ain't very friendly to anybody who puts their dirty paws on me," you grunt, and turn heel, attempting to walk away. Micah reaches out to take a hold of your wrist, his grip tightening when you try to shake him off. "Doll, I only came out here to let off some steam with you."

"You really think I'm gonna fuck you after that?"

"Yep."

You let out a long, defeated sigh. There are two options presented to you: you can either turn down Micah and let the next hour slowly trail by, bored with nothing to do, or you can enjoy his unwelcomed company, tiring yourself out before bed.

"Alright, but let's make this quick," you agree, pulling your wrist free from Micah's grasp.

There's an awkward pause, both of you staring at each other, as if you've both suddenly forgotten how to initiate sex. Micah then waves his hands about, and orders you to bend over against a nearby tree. "We ain't supposed to do this in camp, that was part of the agreement," you comment.

"This ain't in camp, it's in a forest, sweetheart," Micah corrects you. Well, he's not exactly wrong...

You roll your eyes and let out a huff, but prop your rifle up against a tree. Your skirts are bunched up to your hips, reaching beneath them to pull your undergarments down, letting them settle around your thighs; you then turn to question why Micah is stood there awkwardly.

"I was just enjoying the show," Micah replies with a shrug. He begins unfastening his pants as he approaches, palming at his cock with one hand, whilst the other dips between your legs to slide a finger over your slit.

Micah slides his fingers over you a few times, before slipping a digit in, slowly working his finger in and out. His head dips down to catch your lips, lightly kissing you, enjoying the soft whimpers you make against his lips. He doesn't bother sliding another finger in, and moves his hand away to nudge you against the tree.

Your hands rest on the trunk, and you peer over your shoulder to watch as Micah holds your skirt up around your hips, his other hand slicking his cock against your folds. He's clearly in a rush as he doesn't bother teasing you for long, instead, slipping his cock in and slowly sheathing himself inside you.

Micah mutters something under his breath as he grips onto your hips, and pulls you back onto his cock, pushing himself as deep as he can go. He holds himself there as he lets out a long, deep groan, followed by starting his thrusts, jumping straight into a quick pace. You feel something tap against your foot, peering down to see Micah tapping at you; you know what he wants, so you spread your legs wider, arching your back, gripping onto the tree trunk for support.

This needs to be quick. You dip your hand down between your legs, rubbing at your clit, building your orgasm with Micah's help. He's quieter than usual, the sound of skin against skin filling the air, and hopefully not echoing all the way back to camp.

A hand weaves its way around your waist, and Micah pulls you upright, your back pressed to his chest. He speaks in a deep, husk voice, almost growling into your ear. "I am a little disappointed that you ain't wearing my fancy lingerie, means I'll have to wait to cut it off you," he comments, still attempting to thrust into you, despite the awkward position.

"You ain't even got your knife on you," you say with a laugh. Your laughter is cut short as Micah moves his hand to your neck, gripping oh-so-perfectly, just how you like it.

"I'd use my bare hands, but I can be patient, I'll wait," he says with a soft shrug.

Micah manages to make do, bucking up into you, your hand still rubbing your clit. His thumb removes itself from your neck, only to be replaced with his lips, sucking and kissing your skin so hard that you know it's going to leave marks. You mutter his name, and Micah pleasantly hums as a reply. "Come on, sweetheart," he urges, picking up the pace, and chuckling at his pun.

Your back may be hurting, but you roll your head against Micah's shoulder, moaning away. Only your moans are cut short as you suddenly orgasm, tightening around Micah's length. He quickly removes himself from you, almost shoving you out of the way as he pulls out, spilling himself over the forest floor. "Hell," Micah mutters under his breath, finishing up, and then tucking himself away.

"Pretty," Micah comments as he lightly slaps your ass, just as you're pulling your undergarments back up.

"I know," you smugly reply, and Micah giggles at your comment. He reaches in his back pocket, fishing out a packet of cigarettes, and offers you one. Rather than using one of his matches, you light yours on the end of Micah's, blowing smoke in his face on your first exhale.

"Petty," Micah grumbles, "c'mon, I'm sure your shift has finished by now."

"You can walk ahead, Micah. I ain't risking being seen wandering into camp with you."

"Alright, suit yourself," he shrugs, turning heel and heading back to camp.

You watch him go, wandering off into the darkness, disappearing into the trees, the light from his cigarette eventually fading black. It's too dark out here to check your pocket watch, but after a handful of minutes, you finish off your smoke, and assume it's time to wake the next person up for guard duty.

The walk back to camp is quiet, as always, and for some reason, you're looking out for Micah as you enter camp. He's nowhere to be seen, probably wandered off down the shoreline, and you can't help but scold yourself for being so curious as to his whereabouts.

You shake your head, trailing over to your tent after passing the rifle over to the next camp member on watch, and soon fall asleep, despite the stinging sensation on your neck.

#duality #rdrwriting #multi-chapter #rdr2 #micah bell x reader #micah bell x female reader #f!reader #nsft #smut

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c-is-writing · 4 years

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sleepy sickness

pairing: carol danvers x gn!reader

genre: fluff!!!

word count: 1181

warnings: sick fic? idk if that counts but yes; also, this was not edited, once again ahahah... (ˉ ▽ ˉ ; )

a/n: welcome back, it’s currently prime time writing time for me aka 3am. enjoy and if you have any feedback please let me know!! also my requests are open and i’ll be putting together a rules and masterlist post soon :))

The red light from your clock intensifies the pounding in your head as you squint at it, woken up again for the fourth time that night. You groan and massage your temples, trying to alleviate the pain. A familiar yet unwelcome feeling starts in your throat and you immediately duck your head into the blankets, trying to muffle them. After you nearly cough up a lung, you try to clear your throat and wince at the raw feeling. You try to relax and go back to sleep but the combination of the headache, raw throat, and limited breathing prevents you from doing so. After a few restless minutes pass, the bed creaks as Carol shifts and rolls over to look at you. With her eyes barely open and a groggy voice, “Hey, Y/N, what are you doing up so late?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just go back to sleep, babe.”

You nearly convince her but the raspiness of your voice and attempt to stifle another cough give you away.

“You didn’t tell me you were sick.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Plus, you just came back from a month-long mission.”

“How many times do I have to tell you this? I always want to take care of you, no matter what. And I’m always going to worry about you, baby.”

She reaches out with one hand and gently cups your face, rubbing her thumb back and forth in a soothing motion. With her free hand, she places the back of it on your forehead, feeling its temperature. As she hums and mumbles to herself, she starts getting ready to leave the bed. You grab her wrist and try to question her but your voice cracks and your throat is too raw for you to speak. Carols looks at you with concern in her eyes, “Don’t worry, I’m just going to make some tea for you. It seems like your throat is hurting, right?” You nod in response and whisper, “But, I don’t want you to leave. I just want to cuddle and sleep. Please.” A small sigh leaves her lips, “You should be resting though. I don’t want you to overexert yourself while you’re sick.” You slowly jut your lip out, a pout forming on your face. You slowly see Carol’s resolve breaking as you see the look in her eyes softened. “Alright, compromise: you can climb onto my back and stay there while I make you tea. Sound good?” You lightly cough into your elbow and nod. Carol grabs the blanket and drapes it over you, making sure that you’re warm and cozy. She moves over to your side of the bed and sits on the edge of it, inviting you to get onto her back. You comply and, sooner or later, she’s heading to the kitchen with you clinging onto her like a koala.

As you wrap your arms around her neck, the blanket covers her shoulders as well. Carol crosses your legs against her waist before freeing her hands, making sure that you won’t fall off. The floor is quiet with the exception of the sink, quietly running as Carol fills up the tea kettle. You rest your chin on her shoulder, slowly closing your eyes as you hear the clicks of the stove turning on and clangs of the kettle being placed on it. Your grip starts to loosen and before you can fall off, Carol catches you.

“Hey, baby, are you okay back there?”

“Hm? Mmm..yeah, I’m just..tired.”

“Do you want to go back to bed? I can bring the tea in after.”

You shake your head, “I want to stay here with you.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to finish making the tea quickly so we can get you some medicine before going back to sleep.”

She takes one of your hands and places a kiss on the back of it. The quiet hum you let out doesn’t go unnoticed and makes Carol smile. The tea kettle starts screeching, disrupting the quiet moment. She lets go of your hand and goes to turn off the stove. As she starts to look for the teabags and honey for you, you tighten your hold on her. She pauses her movement, almost questioning what you were doing. You mumble into her shoulder, “I just want to get closer and feel more of your warmth.” Carol smiles and reaches down, grabbing your leg and giving you a reassuring squeeze. The cabinets open and close with soft thuds as she continues to hunt for the teabags. Once she finds the lemon and ginger ones, she grabs your favorite mug and places them inside of it. In a barely conscious state, you watch the steam rise from the mug as it’s being poured into it. Your blinks start getting longer and your eyelids get heavier and heavier by the second. The gentle clinking of the spoon against the mug as Carol stirs in the honey, begins to lull you back to sleep.

The next time you wake up, you’re back in your bedroom. Looking around the room, you see that there’s a bit of light coming from the underneath the bathroom door and the sound of a medicine cabinet being opened. A few seconds later, the light turns off and Carol steps out of it, heading in your direction. In her hands, you can see the outlines of a towel and a bottle of NyQuil. She turns on the lamp next to you and takes a seat on the bed. As she starts pouring the medicine out, she notices that you aren’t complaining about taking it. She makes sure to keep a mental note to ask Steve for the next two weeks off so you can fully recover. You shift upwards into a sitting position and take the medicine that is being handed to you. The medicine is taken with no hesitation and is immediately chased by the tea Carol made. You feel the warmth from the tea spread throughout your body and the pain in your throat dulls into a slight ache. With a weak and raspy voice, “Thank you, Carol. I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick.” She chuckles and kisses you on the forehead, “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. We can kiss as much as you want when you’re better. For now, just focus on recovering.”

After a few minutes of silence minus your coughing and sipping of the tea, the medicine begins to take effect as you start to feel sleepy. Carol gently takes the mug out of your hands and places it on your nightstand. She tucks you into bed as you slide down into a laying down position. A light, feathery kiss is placed on your temple before a cool towel is placed on it. You’re about to succumb to the sleepiness when you feel the space next to you dip down and an arm drapes across your waist.

“I hope you feel better, Y/N. Good night, I love you.”

“Thanks for taking care of me. I love you too, Carol.”

#did i write this out of impulse? yes #am i also getting sick? maybe #why? probably lack of sleep but we don't talk about that #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x gn!reader #carol danvers x you #captain marvel #*mine #marvel imagine

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shattered-catalyst · 3 years

Text

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person. Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

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So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame. The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

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You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder.

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To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD. Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

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Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma.

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point.

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Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening,

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

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Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes.

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs.

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

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Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those. Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

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Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

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Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

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False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

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Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest.

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Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

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Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible.

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

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pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

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Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

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Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness. There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence.

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

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Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities. There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype.

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

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Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

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Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD. With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows.

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day. That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things.

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Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.

#OCD #writing help #OCD resources.#*drops 10 pages onto your dash* whoops

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r6shippingdelivery · 3 years

Note

Thank you for the fandom history post, it was very interesting to read! I was wondering now what was your biggest disappointment (canon breaking your hc? delay of Rainbow Six Parasite... idk) and your biggest satisfaction (Ubi releasing Flores as a gay character, new fan content you weren't expecting... ) during those times in the fandom? thank you for your answers :-)

Glad to hear it was interesting to read, I did feel a little like an old woman telling tales by the fire 😂 I want to preface this answer by reminding everyone this are my personal, and therefore highly subjective opinions, and that they might be controversial... but you asked for my opinion, and this is it. Now if you’re still up to it, click on the read more and bear that in mind.

Since you asked about disappointments first, let’s get into it. Canon didn’t really break any of my headcanons, but I’ll admit that when The Hammer and the Scalpel dropped, I was less than enthused about Ubi suddenly wanting to “expand” their lore, after 3 years of ignoring it. You have to understand that back then, the main draw of writing fic & HCs for R6S was how little contraints there were, and now they wanted to play at caring (even tho they often retcon their previous lore, like lmao)? I wasn’t thrilled, and it was right then and there that I decided canon was optional and I would only pay attention to the bits I liked. Tying in with this, I’ve never hidden that I think the new direction the lore has taken is... stupid as all hell, sorry 😂 Harry is a constant disappointment as Six, Nighthaven should have never been added to Rainbow, and it seems Ubi just decided to actually do something with them now, as evidenced by The Playbook. We’ll see what happens, but for now I consider them to be unnecessary and an unwelcome addition.

On a different level, I’m pretty disappointed in how it’s really difficult to avoid some things, despite me trying desperately to do so. But that’s mostly a Twitter problem, which is a disappointment in itself as a fandom hub in many ways.

My biggest satisfactions have been, without a doubt, the people I made friends with along the way. You know who you are, and if you’re doubting ask yourself: “Have I talked with Kiki via DMs more than once or twice?” if the answer is yes, congrats this was about you! 💜 About fan content, honestly, any single glazkan (and I mean glazkan, not kapglaz) or tachankan piece I’ve found -and there’s not much of it- is something I celebrate. I also find pretty satisfying to particiapte in trades and/or writing events, and the times I’ve gotten art about my fics (like this one, for example) or a gift fic - congrats on making me flail and go “ahfdsjhakLJSAjs 🥺😭💖“ On a different note, I was pretty pleased to have confirmation that Parasite was being worked on and not cancelled as I feared (honestly, after two years of complete radio silence and no news of it, it seemed highly likely). Flores being the first confirmed gay operator was awesome, but lore wise my personal high point was seeing Ash punch Kali in the face, extremely satisfying 😄 And the small Ash/Mira renaissance we had in fics after The Playbook, oh damn that was so good too!

Speaking of the game itself, while I’d have loved to have a new map and not just reworks, and I hate how much they’re pushing the damn battlepass, events have always been a highlight. There’s been very few events I disliked (like Showdown, sorry, that one was terrible imo), and seeing as this year they’re gonna bring old events back as Arcade Playlists sounds amazing!

#r6s #Anonymous

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

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On Azula Fans vs...The Rest Of The Fandom???

So I was talking with several people (@wingsfreedom, @wish-i-was-fiction, and @iabsentmindeddreamer--though I didn’t actually reply to them, just read their post) on this post (https://wish-i-was-fiction.tumblr.com/) and I wanted to write my own desperate post as I have been kind of thinking about for a while but have been hesitant to post because Idk how it would be received/I don’t want to start anything. But it looks like a thing has already started so I might as well.

I’ll start by saying that this isn’t a Bryke, Yang, or any part of the fandom hate post.

The thing I’ve been wanting to talk about is that I feel like Azula fans (and Zutara fans) are kind of being ostracized by the fandom and I feel like the creators kind of help that happen.

I can’t say when I started feeling this, I think that it might have been around the whole Azula vs Katara debate. That whole ordeal made me feel like Azula fans just aren’t taken seriously/aren’t respected even in in civil discussion. Like I ended up pulling out of that debate because I felt as though people were becoming dismissive and/or aggressive. I’m not saying it was everyone, not at all. But there were a handful. And yes, I am aware that it came from both sides. But that debate has since died down, which I’m glad for.

The point is, things like this seem to keep happening. I also think that there’s a certain user who keeps targeting specific portions of the fandom and says things in the fan tags that come off to me as very instigating and antagonizing. These posts tend to lead to a whole bunch of people coming along to completely drag Azula’s character through the mud and eventually her fans as they try to defend her character and justify liking it. I’ve since blocked that user, because (though they’ve always been rather civil with me) I just got tired of seeing hate towards a fandom I’m in and I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to keep conversation civil. I say this because I want everyone to know that, though I’ve mentioned this person, I don’t particularly have bad blood with them or whatever. Those two things I mentioned were kind of the catalyst in me thinking that Azula fans are kind of isolated from the rest of the fandom.

And if this is beginning to sound familiar; I turn everyone to Zutara. The very first part of the fandom to be cast out of the fandom in a sense. Now I never shipped Zutara, in fact I hate it very much. And I used to think that the Zutara fans were ‘bitter’ and ‘hostile’. Now I kind of sympathize with them. I feel like that bitterness comes from not only not being able to see their ship on screen, but also because they’re kind of the black sheep of the fandom. To the point where even the creators seem to shit all over them and make fun of them and this is NOT okay. Because when creators start making fun of sections of the fandom, even in jest, it basically gives the fandom a green light to do the same. Like, ‘oh the creators do it, so its fine if we do’. It creates for a very bad and unfriendly atmosphere.

I feel as though the same thing is starting to happen with Azula fans. With Yang calling them a cult (even if this was a joke I feel like it is in very poor taste) and Hicks saying that they are scary. Etc.

There are two things that I think happen here (and it is the same stuff that happened with Zutarians).

1. Anti’s post hate in Azula’s tag (and the Zutara one) and fans get ont he defensive

2a. Some vocal people--seemingly on twitter--send hate to creators and the creators react creating a chain.

2b. Some fans started

I’ll discuss point 1 first because this happened first. I feel like one of the biggest problems is that a handful of people have begun to post Azula hate in her fan tags. Once upon a time people kept hate out of the fan tags with the exception of one or two posts every now and again. Then it started happening. And I have never seen an instance where massive amounts of hate in a fan tag was met with a positive response. The hate was posted and there was a reaction. Some fans were more kind in their responses and others got more aggressive. The amount of aggression increased as the volume of hate increased. And this I understand why Azula fans and Zutara fans get so irritated. We just want to enjoy our tag and see love for Azula and Zutara. But people keep knocking them. And so it puts fans on the defensive and starts a chain; hate is posted, fans argue back, anti’s now feel justified in their hate (and fans feel justified in their outrage), and more fighting happens.

All the while a second chain was being created. Unfortunately I do think that this one was started by the Azula and Zutara fandoms (mostly on twitter). I’ve noticed and have been bothered by this. I’ve been rather quite on this one because I like the people in this fandom and I love talking to them. But there are a few people who I feel like are being rather unfair or harsh. I feel like this fandom has become a bit of an echochamber for shitting on the comics and on other characters (mostly Iroh, Zuko, and Ursa) and I can see how that would be off putting. Like people started woobifying Azula and using other characters to prop her up I feel like this actually drove several people away. Granted I feel like this was actually a bit reactory as well--people kept using Azula and hating on her to prop Zuko up and so the opposite began to happen. But I digress; I’ve started to notice that people started taking an almost ‘Azula did nothing wrong/is the victim mentality’. And I strongly disagree with that. I won’t get into that now because that’s not the discussion. But it began to get off putting for me personally. But I like the character and fans of her enough to stay.

Between the above and that crazy Sokkla vs Tyzula ship war, we lost a lot of really fun people who used to shitpost, make fanart, and write fics. And so the bulk of our tag has disintegrated into discourse and arguing instead of having fun like back in the day.

And then the hate began to stray from discourse to, actually sending hate to the creators; Yang in particular. Again I think that this was more of a twitter thing (hence why I don’t use twitter, I think that it’s a nightmare of a site tbh and a breeding ground for bad behavior). A good vocal few kept complaining about how the comics and show were/was being written and after receiving so many harsh comments the creators began to react. I’m gonna just say it; I don’t think that Bryke (in the above link) was in the wrong here. I feel like they were pretty tactful and respectful in their wording. And as a fic writer I 100% agree with them that it is their story and so they should write it as they see fit, even if I don’t like xyz plotline. And as someone who has had someone try to strong arm me into writing my fic their way, I understand their frustration. My issue lies with Yang mostly. His ‘the Azula fandom is kind of a cult’ left a really bad taste in my mouth. Joke or not, this kind of grants people permission to judge the entire fandom. And we already saw it a bit in the very clip. This girl asked an innocent question, that response was her answer, and the crowd actually laughed. I feel like that was probably very uncomfortable for her. This was followed up by Hicks saying “I got a scary email from an Azula fan...please be nice to me guys”. Again, I’m not gonna knock Hicks too much because I feel like she’s still new (at least to Avatar) and that hate-mail can be quite rattling.

The point I’m trying to make is that a second chain has been created. Once Yang made his cult remark that cued a lot of outrage in the Azula fandom and it was a green light for them to openly hate on him and his work. Which is something that was already happening. In this regard I am kind of on Yang’s side. I’ve noticed that the fandom began to religiously knock Yang for everything he did with the comics in the same way that Zutarians started knocking Bryke for everything Kataang. Again I found myself off put by all the hate because I actually kind of enjoyed the comics. Discussion of the comics always seemed to lead to more debating over whether they were good or not. I do feel like Yang didn’t like Azula’s character from the start, but people sending hate and him seeing this probably didn’t help.

Eventually he reacted with his cult remark and so the fans felt justified in being more spiteful to the man. They started posting more hate. And so Yang probably feels more justified in thinking that her fan base is scary. And so the people who haven’t been posting hate and sending mean tweets his way are viewed as scary and mean too.

Where I disagree with Yang is that he made that remark at all. While I understand being frustrated, I really hated that generalization. As mentioned above, even the fans who liked the comics are now associated with unkindness and hate. I really enjoyed the comics, though that enjoyment is kind of shadowed by a feeling of being unwelcomed. And with his generalization I think that it kind of puts a bit of the stigma around the fandom in the exact way that Zutarians have a stigma of being hostile.

And when such a stigma is created it starts to become true because the fans feel like, ‘well they already see us this way, might as well be this way’. It starts to become true because others go into the tags to knock fans for being aggressive to the creators and so more people get defensive and the cycle just continues.

Now with Azula’s fandom, this is only just starting, but I can see it getting to Zutara levels pretty quickly. And that’s a shame because this fandom is something I have enjoyed for a while and I like being able to react with other parts of the fandom. But personally I haven’t been venturing outside of the Azula tag much because I feel like I’m only going to see hate and arguing if I do.

Idk, I hope that this didn’t come off as antagonizing to anyone because I’m not trying to blame any one group of people. Tbh I think that everyone has kind of played their part in this hot mess. I just really wanted to get this off of my chest. Mostly because I want people to tell me that I’m wrong lol and that the Azula fandom isn’t becoming a black sheep fandom and that I’m seeing something that isn’t actually there lmao.

I hope that I was able to explain things clearly, fairly, and kindly. Feel free to discuss in the comments and stuff.

#Avatar #Azula #Zutara #Fandom #Bryke #Gene Luen Yang #Discourse

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years

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Loving Stupid - Chapter One: Sanctuary [Fallout 4 Fanfiction]

HELLOOO Tumblr! Now that I’ve got this blog up and running, I wanted to do what I could to expand the exposure of my fic and get it around to new readers. While it’s already up on Fanfiction.net , it seems to me that the majority of the community prefers Ao3 or reading directly here on Tumblr. So, I figure why not post it over here as well?

Though a heads up that this first chapter was first written entirely for personal enjoyment, and then a friend I showed it to encouraged me to expand upon the story cause they wanted to see more of the ship. XD It’s uh... lil spicy. Or lemony, depending on how old you are and how far back your fic vocab goes.

Story Title: Loving Stupid

Story Summary: Paige [Sole Survivor] and Hancock venture into the Glowing Sea in pursuit of a lead on the Institute, when a catastrophic equipment failure forces them to separate.

Rating: MATURE

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing

Content Warnings for story overall: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing, violence, blood, injury, needles, limb mutilation

Genre: .... erotic romance-adventure? IDK shit goes down and there’s some spicy scenes, but also a lot of character building and relationship stuff. I’m bad at genre assessment. Open to suggestions XD

.:_Sanctuary_:.

“So these are your digs, huh? … can't say it's my speed.”

“Not historical enough?”

“Nah, it's...”

Paige watched Hancock's face twist as he struggled to pick out what word fit his distaste, ghoulish features creating sharp valleys along fault lines in leathery skin while the shiny dark of his eyes appraised the home she'd built atop one of the empty foundations of Sanctuary Hills.

It wasn't anything special, wooden planks coaxed together into floors, walls, and roofing with nails and elbow grease. This was the only settlement where Paige had a place that was specifically hers, where she kept the little knickknacks and oddities she collected; all dutifully looked after by Codsworth-- ever dedicated to his task two centuries after it had been assigned to him. She'd given some life to the wooden bones of the shack, however; recycled fabrics became rugs and curtains with only mildly clashing patterns, and she even managed to cobble a number of worn out flannel shirts into a workable set of sheets for a double-wide bed that was, in truth, just a pair of smaller mattresses pushed together to pretend they were a queen size.

What could she say? She liked to sprawl.

Generators lit up Sanctuary at night with bare bulbs, and her little shack was no different. It brought yellow light against the dark, and reflected off a multitude of glass bottles, lined up on the shelves of a bureau she'd rescued, mostly intact, from the home of a long-dead neighbor. Whiskey, vodka, wine-- she jokingly called it her liqueur cabinet, despite the thing not having doors to lock the alcohol behind.

She'd done her best to make this a where place she could sleep soundly, when she was in the area. It was little more than a bed, a roof, and a lot of junk on shelves; insulated from the outside world with some sewn-together fabric scraps... but stepping over the threshold always made her feel like she'd entered a sort of... bubble. Not safe-- nowhere was safe-- but... quiet.

She could pretend, here.

“Comfortable.” Hancock decided, grousing out the word. “Damn near cozy-- you put this together?”

“With my own two hands.” She informed him; trust Hancock to find an issue with comfort-- then again, she couldn't blame him. Comfortable people had a habit of being complacent people, and they both knew that was where a lot of ugliness could happen... but his opinion didn't stop her from stepping inside and divesting herself of the pieced together armor that she layered over a set of somewhat over-sized army fatigues, reclaimed after clearing an old base of ferals. There was a wooden bin by the door for that stuff; she'd have to strap it all back on in the morning... but for now she was grateful to take a load off, starting with an enameled metal helmet.

“I've watched those hands beat faces to a bloody pulp. I didn't figure they could sew.”

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes as she heard him trudge inside anyhow, metal door closing behind him, and set herself to the straps that kept her secured within the bits of metal and leather that frequently kept her alive on the road. Left arm first, a metal shoulder piece coming loose, and the whole ritual making her feel as if she were shedding skin.

She didn't tell him that she might have been a housewife a few centuries ago-- that was a different life. The idea that someone could live so cushy as to devote themselves to home-making and nothing else was a fever dream in this age, and while Hancock probably had enough chems in his pockets to attempt imagining it, she didn't feel like trying to paint the picture for him.

She didn't want to know what he'd think of her, knowing just how... comfortable she'd been.

“I'm a woman of many talents.” She snarked instead as another heavy piece of metal thumped into the bin, freeing up the shoulder beneath to roll and stretch. “Don't worry about getting used to it-- this is a one night stop. First thing in the morning, I'm seeing to the upgrades on the armor, and then back on the-- ah--”

Hands-- surprisingly strong hands despite withered skin that clung to spindly bones. She didn't know how that worked-- Hancock wasn't a big man, and the ghoulishness made her think he'd be frail... instead he'd hefted a flamer onto his back when he set out with her, and carried it from one end of the Commonwealth to the other without complaint. Finding those hands suddenly assisting with undoing the straps at her sides so that her chest piece could come loose was a surprise; simple and sure movements causing the scavenged military combat armor to come loose and slide forward. Without an anchor, it slid forward until the hard edge of the back plate caught on her neck and stopped it from simply falling to the floor. Meanwhile, Hancock's hands had slid in along her ribs, pressing firmly into the rough fabric and reminding her that they were, for the first time in a while, blissfully alone.

“I'm aware of that.”

Her lips pressed together-- a low sigh was expressed with his rough whisper in her ear. She swore he knew how much that got to her, despite her very deliberately not telling him. It was a struggle not to react, not to lean back as he reeled her in, those spidery hands easily finding their way upwards beneath the hanging breastplate and his chin perching on her shoulder. He'd pulled them together, his body against hers, and punctuated the move with a mischievous chuckle.

“Sometimes a little too talented-- doin' everything yourself, despite having a public servant waiting in the wings.” He teased her. “Let a ghoul help, eh sister?”

It wasn't entirely unexpected, nor unwelcome, but his eagerness was something that caught her off guard. She usually had something to say, something sly to come back with, but for some reason all she could focus on was the ticklish clutch of her gut as his fingers gathered up the material of her shirt in their traveling to her bust, squeezing fitfully enough to expose an inch of skin at her belly.

“Hancock--” She muttered, squirming slightly, but not in earnest. “C'mon, we've got the whole night--”

“That's right.” He agreed, but it was with an entirely different tone. One hand remained up, keeping her tight to him, while the other traveled down. The thin ribbon of skin that had been exposed was soon graced with the specific texture of his skin; rough, but not terribly so. Like callous, only it was all over; somewhat leathery and unique. His entire palm invaded through that opening, hard against her belly as fingertips sought out a path further south. “We've got the whole night-- and I didn't plan on wastin' any of it...” His fingers were ruthless once they found purchase, shoving past the tight fit provided by a belt she was wearing. “Did you?”

Her breath shuddered. No part of her wanted to tell him no-- the rush was enough to make her ignore the metal edge digging into the back of her neck, and forget how doggedly exhausted she'd been after their long trek here... particularly lugging her own weight in lead along the way.

In her hesitation, he'd gotten far enough to make a more intimate contact-- damnably persistent, like ivy finding the cracks in brickwork to wheedle its way in.

He pressed in against her, too certain to be deterred by straps and clothes. Barriers had been passed without any show of manners, knowing her well enough that if he was unwanted she would have thrown him off by now... and getting a sweet gasp as his reward.

“There we go.” His smile was evident in his tone-- no, not a smile, a grin-- a smug, shit-eating grin. She could imagine how it looked on his face, and knew he'd be wearing it for hours just to make her glare at him.

It didn't matter. Everything he'd done so far was just testing the water in his puckish, incorrigible way. Now he had her, and his wrist twisted as he worked that hand just a little further into her pants before slipping a fingertip against soft flesh. The motion was a sort of rocking of his hand, sliding the single offending finger down between sensitive lips before drawing back upwards with the tip pressed in, working up a little warmth in general and offering up a little tantalizing pressure to wake up the sweet spot for later, stroking her like that as his hips pitched against hers to turn her away from the bin next to the door and instead face her against the closed portal they'd entered through, reinforcing that he had her.

Without thinking, her right hand came out to brace against the door. Cold metal barely registered, just that it gave her something to push back against as he leaned in harder against her back, idly kneading her breast as he stroked her beneath restrictive layers of cloth and leather.

“O-oh... damnit, Hancock--”

“I was thinking fuck it, actually.” He smirked, still right by her ear for that quip before finally leaning back the necessary inches and releasing her breast to help her get her armor the rest of the way off, falling to the floor with a hard thud instead of getting placed in the bin. Pitching his shoulders back, hips pressed forward, grinding against her to advertise himself against her rump. “... just like this...” He added, losing a little breath as he suggested it, that free hand of his coming right back as if magnetically drawn, this time landing at the top of her hip and sliding upwards to expose a few more inches of skin-- his palm on her back, pushing with his surprising strength to encourage her to bend forward.

Bend over, actually.

She got his meaning, groaning softly as his stroking remained steady. She didn't resist the push, her hand shifting against the wall as her body dipped lower and her own free hand fumbled with the latch for her belt. The strip of leather resisted her, frustrating her fingers for a few agonizing moments as the sensation of his hand brought on another faint sigh, slipping against her with more ease as her body reflected her own eagerness; building with the anticipation. Then, finally, she managed to yank it just the right way for the latch to loose, the pressure of having his hand shoved in where it was such a tight fit relived, and further tugging releasing the subsequent button and zipper before they became obstacles... and before her hands became utterly uncooperative.

The loosened hem could be yanked down on his side, exposing more precious skin to the evening chill that crept in through the walls. Gnarled knuckles hooked on the hem, and fingertips got her underwear in the same dragging motion that demanded quick access. The lower she bent, the more he leaned against her, miming what would come in due time. It wasn't until he had her ass bare, pants and underwear drug down below the swell of her hips, that he finally pulled his own body back the inches necessary to attend to a few layers of fabric himself... but he didn't let off touching her as quickly. The hand that exposed her lingered, fingertips ghosting the sensitive skin just below the curve of her rump and sending a tingle across her skin, before his weathered palm pressed up and squeezed hard, his thumb sliding up to the top of her hip while his fingers rotated down. Finally, he finished up the groping with a light swat, chuckling behind her.

“Fuck you look so good like this...” He marveled, and she could hear layers of fabric moving against each other. “I just wanna wreck you.”

“Shut up and-- nnnnnnnh--”

She couldn't see him, but she felt him; hard and hot against her skin, pressed first between her thighs before he adjusted himself upwards. His finger's rubbing of her had paused, that hand simply anchored there as, from the rear, he worked himself against her, dragging the tip of himself this way and that until he found just the right angle to slick himself up with her excitement... and making her crave him in the process as she flexed her hips back towards him, trying to make it easier for him.

Somehow, some fucking how, she'd gone from exhausted to needy in the span of only a few minutes. It was the kind of eagerness that usually belonged to the young and dumb-- insanity she thought she'd left behind in her teen years, but he always found a way to draw it out of her.

She had no idea how he did that, but she never wanted it to change.

“Yeah?” His voice had dropped, the word barely differentiated from the heavy sigh it was carried out on. “C'mon, you can moan for me... no one's gonna hear you this time...”

More of him, pressing between wet lips-- and then more; there was resistance, going for it quick like this always meant it was a little rough, but it was the kind of sensation that left her gasping aloud as she went from craving that feeling of him to having him sink into her and remind her just how good it felt. Imagination, memory-- it always fell short, not quite living up to what it was in the immediate reality of the moment. Friction and heat, bound up in an intimate need-- just as addicting as any of the chems he slipped into her pockets whenever he thought she looked strung out.

Out of reflex, her jaw clenched tight, denying the urge to moan aloud and her body clenching around him instead. Both hands had applied themselves to the wall, and her breath shook as teeth ground together, resisting.

“Oh shit-- fuck-- if you squeeze me like that, I'm gonna...”

His hips bucked forward after a short draw back, the hand he'd been using to guide himself against her now finding its way to anchor at the crease that formed between her hip and her body as she bent against the wall, yanking her tight against him with the same motion before coming to a sharp stop. She could feel him inside, throbbing and thick, and the jolt made her jaw drop open for a short exclamation to escape her.

Buried, he began to rub her from the front again, abandoning the long strokes he'd used to warm her up and instead zeroing in on where she was most sensitive. Where his opening moves had all been about pressure with maximum contact, he changed tactics to only flick across her with the tip of his finger, instigating another tightening of her body as her resistance to making noise produced a shudder instead.

“D-don't--” She finally managed to murmur. “Oh God-- Hancock, you don't have to--”

This was a quickie-- an opener. She didn't expect this kind of attention; he always made up for it later, after a little Jet got him going again. This was usually the part where he took her by the hips with both hands and went to town, but instead he held her to keep them both tightly together, all while--

“F-fuck--” A whispered curse, kept lower than a murmur, followed by a greedy breath. He wasn't letting up, despite her telling him he didn't need to bother. She tried to push herself back against him, to antagonize him, but his fingers only tightened their grasp on the side of her hip as he leaned forward over her, ensuring that he was the one in control.

A defined clutch passed through her, centered at her core.

“Oh fuck-- mmmm--!”

“There you go... c'mon, let it out...” He coaxed her, rocking himself back in another short motion before jolting back into her again, letting out a guttural sound of his own as he did so. “Lemme hear you...”

It was an old habit to hold back, to grit her teeth and hold her breath-- anything to keep quiet. Her own fingers, once splayed open against the metal door, curled inwards into fists as the sensation built up, deep and desperate gasps getting drawn in through her nose as her jaw remained tightly closed, lips pressing hard against each other as she hummed and swallowed. Her head dropped down, his touch taking more and more of her focus.

Old habits were hard to break, but he was a new habit. One that liked to push at her old habits and see how long they'd stick.

Toes curled inside her boots, eyes closed without thinking. There was no thinking-- no, just her perception of him; the weight of his body against hers, the grip of his hand, and sound of his breath, all as her body underwent jolts that made her hips continue to try and rock back against his, one of her hands eventually lifting and banging back onto the door as the sensation turned briefly sharp, jaw loosing for a raw gasp between her lips and a guttural groan. “F-Fuck Hancock, you're gonna--- oh-- oh-- shit--”

“Rub you raw?” He completed the thought she was trying to articulate, drawing in a heavy breath of his own. His own hips rocked now, a minimal motion of a man that could barely help himself. “Wouldn't... wouldn't dream of it... just love the way you squeeze...”

The rocking changed things, introduced that delightful sensation that scratched the ineffable itch he'd aroused in her. Pressure and friction as he kept up his assault on her sensitivity made her knees wobble with a threat to give out, breath viciously driven out of her lungs in a single erotic moan.

“Fuck...” He murmured emphatically. “Sing for me babe... it's so pretty...” He encouraged her, pressing his face against the back of her neck as he kept a steady tempo. He was fully against her, laid over her back and abandoning his grasp on her hip to reach forward, those thin fingers of his stealing beneath the buttoned blouse of her fatigues and taking a demanding grasp on her breast; stalled only momentarily by the worn elastic band of her bra. The heel of his hand ground upwards at first, pressing in against her ribs, before he was pulling on her again, ensuring she remained anchored against him as he kept up the rocking motion he'd adopted over more conventional thrusting.

“Ah... ah shit... shit- shit-- J-John, oooooh... oh fuu...”

She lost the thread of why she'd been protesting in the first place. Her jaw fell open, and another moan came out; louder as everything began to come together. The movement, his insistent grasp, that very specific sense of fullness within her body and the craving it both satisfied and aggravated at the same time--

“Yeah?” He breathed against her ear. “You gettin' there, sweet thing? … good... I wanna feel it... And once you're over the edge, I'm gonna rail you until I burst.”

A thrill ran through her, like electricity that danced along her spine. Now that he'd articulated his intention, she wanted it, too.

“C-close...” She whimpered, nodding her head faintly. “J-just like that... l-little higher... rub a little higher... little circles around my-- oh- oh god- there- fuck yes-- there--!!”

Feverishly murmured coaching that directed his stroking where the craving was strongest sent her further than she expected to go, her head and chest dipping lower as her elbows bent and her forearms joined her hands in being braced against the door, a defined shaking running through her person as she went up to her toes and the rubber soles of her boots dug into the floor, further flexing her hips back in the desperation to have that sense of fullness as her body seemed to anchor itself on where they were intertwined. More than just laying open, her jaw stretched for her cry out with the rush.

His grip on her changed. He wasn't leaned over her anymore, but pitched back as both of his hands found their way to her hips.

God, she could feel him; the meeting of their bodies dominated her brain as she felt him throb within her shortly before he changed to much more active motions. There, again, was that surprising strength as he drew back and adjusted himself just low enough to begin taking her roughly, groaning between sharp breaths as his hips shocked against her rump with every thrust.

Her body was still squeezing, still rippling from what he'd just put her through, aware of the force in his every motion as he drove into her tightly clenched core.

“A-aah... aaanngh--!!”

A hitch, and his voice gave out for a more primal noise, his motions growing more hurried as she felt his nails digging into her hips. There'd probably scratches to attend to later-- not the first time. His breath juddered, followed by a gasp before it was held a moment. All at once, everything came to a halt, a shuddering swell moving up through his flesh that came shortly before a certain warmth spread within her; passed from him to her.

He claimed a sharp breath after, followed by a relieved exhale as his hands loosened. He didn't release her just yet, but he wasn't clutching quite so hard anymore.

“...shit that felt too good...” He muttered faintly as she tried to regain her own breath. One hand and forearm remained braced on the door, but the other had released to reach backwards for him, flexing her fingers to show she desired another kind of contact, and getting one of his hands in return for the non-verbal gesture. Once intertwined, she squeezed him, and let out a faint and almost girlish giggle.

“Too good...?” She quested, surprised he'd ever entertain the concept.

“Damn right.” He lobbed back, squeezing in return. “It's the kind of good a guy gets addicted to... Gotta find us some privacy a little more often.”

Don't have to tell me twice.

This was about the point where bodies needed to come apart; signaled by their hands drifting away from one another after that comforting squeeze... but that process was interrupted.

There was a knock at the metal door Paige was braced up against.

“General? Do you have a moment?”

… Preston, your timing is a disaster.

She recognized the voice in a heartbeat, and it was exactly the sort of person who had previously voiced his disapproval of her and Hancock's partnership... and he didn't even know about the more intimate details of said partnership. There was a shock associated to hearing his voice at this particularly compromised moment, one that made her face flush as she was excessively thankful for the solid door between them.

More thankful that he hadn't shown up a few minutes ago, when he might have heard a thing or two through that door.

Behind her, she more felt than heard Hancock's muted chuckle.

“I'm a little occupied at the moment, Garvey.” Paige answered back through the door; not entirely a lie. “Is it urgent?”

“Just a couple questions I'd like to ask, that's all.” Preston's voice answered back. “Security concerns.”

That was code for yes, it's urgent to me. Preston had been very particular about security ever since she assigned him to it. Making him wait would prompt more questions later, and possible lost trust with him and his group.

Despite very much not wanting to, it sounded like she was going to need to put her clothes back on for a little while.

“Just a minute, I'll be right out.” She informed him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Awee...” Hancock quietly cooed, easing himself away from her. “No cuddle time?”

Finally able to straighten up, she shot a look back at him that encouraged him to shut his face before she broke some part of it in lieu of his mostly missing nose... before cracking a smirk. “There's a bathroom behind that partition--” She directed him quietly, muting her voice to lower the chance it would carry. “No hot water, but it's clean.”

“Heh, ritzy.” Hancock smirked back. Looking at him, she was able to see exactly how ruffled his coat and blouse had ended up, with trousers only shifted just enough out of the way to get away with what they'd just done. He hadn't made any motion to arrange himself back into those trousers, though, appearing all too comfortable to just let it all hang out. “Is that your way to telling me to put it on ice? Cause if anyone needs cleaning up right now, it's you.”

He was right; she was a sticky mess between the thighs, and standing upright allowed for dripping between her legs. Usually she would have insisted on some clean cloth and water to manage that with, but at the current moment? She reached down and simply pulled pants and underwear back up, zipping, buttoning, and straightening both bra and blouse until it was impossible for anyone to know what they'd been up to by simply looking at her... and with only him aware of the specific nature of what was probably going to end up staining her undergarments.

“I'll make you clean it up, later.” She informed him playfully. “It's your mess.”

“Oooh... dirty.” He chuckled. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Her look hardened, making a motion at him that encouraged him to shoo-- the last thing she needed was to open the door and have Garvey catch a glimpse of her companion with his dick out. Hancock pouted at her, but ultimately obeyed.

With a sigh, she turned herself back towards the door, hesitated a moment, and then finally grasped the handle to push it open and head out.

Doing so was not unlike a splash of cold water to the face. Twilight was a good hour past, and the night sky was filled with stars without a single cloud to obscure them. There was a stiff wind tonight; enough to snap Garvey's trench coat against his legs and make the man pull up the swell of his scarf a little more to protect his nose and cheeks.

Going from the relative comfort of her little home-made haven, as well as the heat of her recent encounter, into the abrupt chill of the night with a sharp wind in her face could have only been more of a shock to the system if it had been raining.

As she emerged, Garvey looked back to appear in profile to her. The man was always at the ready, laser rifle held upright over his chest and his eyes brightly aware despite the dark of the night. Paige's shack was at the far end of Sanctuary; away from where she'd built housing for the other residents, as well as where she'd set up crops, power generators, and water. Looking down the slight hill her shack sat upon at Preston meant also seeing the lights of the settlement beyond him; the faint yellow glow of something that could almost be called a town as the back-drop to his silhouette and shining gaze.

“Garvey.” She greeted him by his last name; it felt more professional, what with him always insisting on calling her General since she'd helped him revive the Minuet Men and retake their old headquarters. “What can I do for you?”

“Like I said, I just had a few questions...” He answered, peering further up and towards the shack. She couldn't see his face; her abode featured no outdoor lights, and with the glow of the settlement behind him his features were cast in shadow. “... where's the ghoul?”

The ghoul. She could practically taste the disapproval on that one.

“Hancock is taking this chance to wash some of the wasteland out of his clothes.” She responded. “Is your security concern about him?”

“No, no, of course not. If you trust him, that's enough for me.” Preston assured her. “But, uh...”

“Out with it, Garvey.” She ordered sternly.

“I was manning the watch when you came back to Sanctuary, General-- I saw you brought back your power armor, and it looked like you were carrying a heavy load of supplies. I know you'd tell me if anything were coming for us here, but... I didn't see any of it go out with the traders, and that made me worry. So, I've gotta ask; do you think something nasty is coming up this way?”

She blinked. Preston thought she was stockpiling for an incoming threat. She almost wanted to laugh aloud, but couldn't manage it. Instead, she stepped down from her place above him on the hill, coming to stand at his side while still looking out at the settlement.

“No,” She answered him. “Nothing's coming here. I'm preparing for a journey into dangerous territory... I need to upgrade my armor before we head out, and we needed a safe place to rest our heads before we committed. I want every advantage we can get under us before we go.”

A pause. Whatever he expected to hear, that wasn't on the list.

“... General, you know all you'd have to do is say the world, and I'd--”

“I'm going somewhere you can't follow, Garvey.” She responded flatly. Of course he wanted to go with her, probably wanting to convince her to take him instead of Hancock. He considered himself more capable, more trustworthy; the better choice on all fronts.

She'd disagree with him outright, but Hancock also had a very specific advantage over Garvey that would leave him no grounds to argue on.

“I'm going into the Glowing Sea.”

Silence. The pause stretched out for several beats, no doubt as Preston processed what exactly it was she was saying.

“... I see. The armor will protect you from most of the radiation, and your companion is immune.” He observed. “... smart choice.” He added, begrudgingly, before asking, “But why are you going in there? Even with the armor, you're going to need to be carrying your weight in medicine to even have a hope of making it back alive...”

“It's important. That's all I can say right now.”

A month or two ago, she might have told him. Before getting involved with the Underground Railroad, before encountering a synth and the person they were trying to replace at the same time and very nearly killing the wrong one during the confrontation, before learning exactly how the institute dealt with people they didn't want to have around anymore... But now? There was doubt in her mind, about almost everyone. Was Preston really Preston? Or was he just another set of eyes and ears for them? If she mentioned a defector, hiding out in the Glowing Sea, would they somehow beat her to that defector and kill them?

She couldn't risk it. This was her line on Shaun, on her son. Right now, the only person she trusted was the one who was going with her; Hancock... and even he didn't know exactly why they were going.

Granted, he hadn't asked.

“... You're sure about this?” Preston quested quietly.

She scoffed. “... barely.” She answered back. “But it's the only way forward I have right now.”

She'd already decided on a direction. Her doubts didn't matter anymore.

“Then I suppose the only thing to do is wish you luck.” He sighed, turning to face her and taking a hand off the stock of his laser rifle to offer it to her. She, in kind, turned to him and took it, sharing a firm shake. “Whatever you're facing, if there's anyone who can survive it, it's you. You already provisioned?”

“Been buying out all the Rad Away and Rad-X I can find.” She confirmed. “Cleaned out every trader between here and Diamond City. Tomorrow morning I take all the lead I've collected and upgrade the power armor to withstand the radiation... and then we'll be suiting up and heading out.” She paused, withdrawing her hand from his. There was something else that had to be said; something she'd been hoping to save until they were on their way out, so there'd be no space to argue about it... but now was probably the kinder time to say it. “Garvey, if I don't come back--”

“You're coming back.” He interrupted.

“If I don't,” She pressed. “You'll be back in charge of the Minute Men. You can't hesitate from that. We've got enough supplies to last a day out there-- maybe two or three if we find a place to shelter that's not soaked in rads, like a cave or a pre-war bomb shelter that's somehow intact. If I don't come back to Sanctuary within that time? You need to take over properly and keep up the fight.”

He was quiet. He didn't like it.

“... I don't know if I can live up to what you've done for us, Paige.” He admitted, softly. “But... if it comes to that, I'll do my best by you.”

“... that's all we can do out here, Preston.” She affirmed in kind. “I know you're the man for the job.”

“Let's try not to find out.” He rebutted.

That time, she let out a faint laugh. “Don't worry.” She told him. “I'll be doing my best, too.”

__________

Chapter One: You are here Chapter Two: [hasn’t been posted to Tumblr yet, will add link when I’ve got it up... oor you could just go read the story so far on Fanfiction XD]

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#Fallout 4 #f!sole survivor #sole survivor #hancock x sole survivor #John Hancock #Hancock #Loving Stupid #fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction #female sole survivor #Paige #Paige Argot

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