#brain couldn't compute everything and had to shut down

[godofthestupid]

the muse of art(Sensakizsensei) bestowed upon me a blessing(gavis bettel new outfit reveal) and I shall use it(absolut brainrot) wisely(only bettel fanart for the forseeable future)

[sematarygirls]

   BOYFRIEND!RAFE x ACADEMIC!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ fem!reader, unconventional study methods, fingering, lots of talking, facts about the nervous system

NOTES .ᐟ boyfriend rafe boyfriend rafe boyfriend rafe. this came to me while i was tediously taking notes for my psych class and wishing that i had a sexy rafe cameron in my bed.

You sat comfortably on your boyfriend's bed, your back pressed against his chest as you typed away on your computer, taking notes for your psychology class. His chin rested on your shoulder as he peered at the screen, reading a bunch of words he didn't quite understand while his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing soft circles.

"What are you doing?" He hummed, his fingers dancing slightly higher. He knew what you were doing, but he wanted to hear you say it. He loved how excited you got and how you rambled on and on when you were telling him something you were passionate about. If he was being honest, it was kind of a major turn on.

"I've got a test tomorrow on the biological bases of behavior, so I'm just refreshing my memory on the endocrine and nervous systems," you explained, too focused on your notes to register that his touch was slowly sliding closer and closer to your clothed core.

"Oh, yeah?" He murmured, dipping his head down, his lips brushing against your skin as he began to pepper soft, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His hand continued upwards, his fingers lightly brushing you over your already damp underwear. "Tell me about it, baby."

"Rafe," you gasped softly, biting your lip. You tilted your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to find your resolve and tell him to stop, but you couldn't help the way your legs parted for him. "I told you I have to study."

"You are studying. Cmon, tell me all about the nervous system while I touch you, baby. You can do both," he coaxed you, his long fingers expertly pulling your panties to the side and running along your wet folds. "Tell me everything that's in that beautiful brain of yours."

You let out a breathy moan, your breathing quickening as your head fell back against his shoulder. You racked your brain for any piece of information, his touch making your mind go blank. "The brain is um-" you drew in a sharp breath as his thumb nudged your clit. "The exterior brain structures are the cerebral cortex, cereb-bellum, occipital lobe, temporal lobe, frontal lobe, and parietal lobe," you managed to say.

"Mmhmm, and what about the interior?" He prompted, his fingers slowly pushing inside of you. "Tell me every little detail, baby. I wanna know everything." His voice was low and husky as he encouraged you to keep going, his breath hot against your skin.

"Rafe," you moaned, your lips parting in pleasure as his fingers worked expertly inside you. You couldn't focus when you could feel his long fingers dragging against your tight walls.

"Cmon, my smart girl," he cooed, his other hand snaking around your waist and splaying his large hand across your stomach to keep you in place. "You know it. I know you do." He continued drawing his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubbed your puffy clit firmly.

You did know it. You'd even forced Rafe to help you make stupid flashcards, so you could memorize the parts and all their functions. But, he had a way of making you forget everything and turning your brain to mush when he had his hands on you.

Your voice was shaky and breathless as you spoke, feeling your orgasm building low in your stomach. "The interior brain structures are the-the amygdala, hippocampus, medulla oblongata-" you gasped, your back arching into his touch when his fingers hit that spot inside you that had you practically seeing stars. You hesitantly kept going, trying to focus because knowing Rafe, if you stopped, he would too. "P-pituitary gland, thalamus, basal ganglia, hypothalamus, midbrain, and pons." You were pretty impressed with yourself that you managed to remember all that while your boyfriend was knuckle deep inside your dripping cunt.

He groaned, feeling himself grow harder as he listened to your breathy voice tell him all about your studies. "You're so fuckin' smart," he found that sensitive spot on your neck, sucking gently. "My brilliant girl."

Your walls fluttered around his fingers at his praising words. He was always so interested in what you had to say, never dismissing you or brushing you off when you started rambling aimlessly and throwing random facts his way. He listened intently, showing genuine interest that made you feel so loved and seen.

"Keep going, baby," he rasped, his fingers speeding up in a way that had you gripping his bicep—needing something, anything to keep you present. "What do all those big words do, hm?"

You let out a breathy laugh, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Well, the um- the hypothalamus controls the pituitary gland, which releases hormones that regulate bodily functions," you explained, smiling softly at how fitting that fact seemed to be.

"Mm, like the hormones that are rushing through your veins right now, making you all hot and bothered for me?" He asked, his voice low and taunting, his teeth lightly nipping at your neck. He pushed his fingers deeper, curving them up to hit that spot that always made your legs shake.

"Uh huh," you moaned, your nails sinking into his bicep through the soft material of his sweater. His fingers curling inside you as his thumb continued swirling around your sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

He hummed against your skin, his tongue laving over the spot where his teeth had marked you. "Cmon, pretty girl," he whispered, feeling your body tense up. "You did so good. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

Your eyes fluttered shut, back arching into his touch as his words sent you over the edge. A whimper of his name fell past your parted lips amongst a sea of soft moans as you came, your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers while he continued to drag them in and out of you, prolonging your high.

He groaned as he felt your velvety walls flutter and squeeze around his fingers, your sweet cries of his name spurring him on. He worked you through it, fingers pumping steadily, thumb circling your clit until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

He peppered kisses along your jaw as he carefully pulled away from your weeping core. "Who knew you could make biology sound so sexy,"

"Technically, it's psychology," you corrected him, chest heaving. You turned your head to look at him as he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking your release off of them with a low groan. You bit your lips at the sight, his lips glistening as he pulled his fingers back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he flashed you a grin before leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself on his tongue.

You moaned softly into his mouth, reluctantly pulling back after a moment. "If you keep distracting me, I'm never going to finish."

"Hm, that's weird because I'm pretty sure you just did," he hummed, feigning confusion as a cocky smirk tugged at his lips.

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up at his innuendo. His hand slid up your arm, tracing soft shapes on your bare skin. You looked up at him, seeing the way his pupils dilated and feeling the evidence of arousal digging into you from behind. "Five more minutes and then I'm all yours, deal?" You raised a brow. You figured you had studied enough over the last couple days, and your oh so patient boyfriend deserved some of your attention.

A sly grin settled on his lips. "Deal, but don't think that I'll be keeping my hands to myself during these five minutes," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

You turned back to your computer, giggling as he dipped his head back into your neck, already kissing and sucking at your delicate skin. His hands started to roam your body, and as you tried to focus, you found yourself wondering if you would make it five minutes before you surrendered to him.

[sirfrogsworth]

Clinging to sanity

Summary of this post...

My brain is broken. My A/C is broken. My phone is broken. My computer is broken. My support system is broken. My financial stability is broken. My family is broken.

And the big finale...

Please give Froggie a Yelp review to repair his relationship with his estranged uncles.

Seriously, I need a whole bunch of you to say nice things about me in a convoluted plan to get back the money my brother stole from my dying father.

If you don't feel like reading all of my broken stuff and just want to read about giving me a good review as a person, you can skip to the bullet point list at the end.

Alright, here we go...

I sometimes get in these states where I feel like my sanity is compromised. My mental defenses are minimal and I lose the filter on my brain that tells me "this is a good idea" or "this is a bad idea."

This causes me to say embarrassing things. I overshare with strangers. I keep myself from falling asleep because I have some amazing idea. But when I wake up in the morning I can't believe I lost all of that sleep for such a ridiculous idea. I write weird posts that no one likes. Or I post about controversial subjects like A.I. and trans people and RFK Jr. that I *know* will result in contentious feedback.

And my insane brain says, "You can handle it! Besides, you are so factually correct about this, no one will dare question your meticulous research. IT'S ALL GOOD! SEND IT, YOLO!"

I have a rule. If I am not emotionally or mentally prepared to defend my point of view on a controversial subject, I should wait until I am ready to publish.

Insane Froggie Brain ignores this rule.

After I "send it" and the negative feedback starts to flow in (even though I was assured by my brain it wouldn't), I become afraid to look at messages and replies and reblogs. And a lot of times I need that sense of community. I need to talk to my cool little community so I don't feel lonely. But Insane Froggie Brain cuts me off from that. I give myself all of this anxiety that could have been avoided by just posting another time.

And because I have no emotional defenses, that anxiety is amplified. Mean comments hurt much more. I obsess over them and my OCD causes thought feedback loops where I cannot get something out of my brain. I once couldn't sleep for a weekend because someone said I was wrong about how light reflects off the moon. They were right and I was also right but they said I was "misleading." And that just lived in my brain for days. I kept trying to think of new ways to better explain my point of view. I used up energy I didn't really have to take pictures of a baseball in a dark closet.

It was silly. It didn't matter. It was just a small disagreement. But OCD doesn't do small. OCD makes everything BIG.

What I'm trying to say is...

People need their emotional defenses.

People need their filters.

It's weird because I still have full access to my logical brain. So sane thoughts get all mixed in with the less sane ones. Sometimes I am self aware and can shut down the less sane ideas. Other times I am oblivious. And I *hate* losing control of my brain in any way. It's one of the reasons I've never touched alcohol. Which is why I get very disturbed when this happens.

I remember one time I was positive I was going to move to Florida and start a pet photography business. I had an entire business plan worked out where I trained people how to take the photos so the business could run itself if I got sick. I made an entire PowerPoint presentation to show Katrina so she would be my business partner. I was looking up rent prices for office space. I was making equipment lists for camera gear. She was going on a trip so she told me I could talk to her about it when she returned. And I am so lucky she wasn't available at the time.

Maybe if I had a normal person's energy, I could make something like that work. But once I returned to sanity, I realized it was orders of magnitude more complicated than anything I was actually capable of doing. I am still planning to do pet photography, but I have to come up with a more reasonable plan that does not involve Insane Froggie Brain.

I think it is just my ambitious mind trying to escape. Chronic illness is often heartbreaking because you have to temper all of your ambitions. And it is especially devastating when you are a very ambitious person, as I am.

I want to have all of these big ideas. But I have to filter them through reality. And when that filter is broken, I just unleash big ideas on all my friends. I once even held an official video chat meeting and we took notes and made plans. And I feel so guilty I wasted 4 people's time like that. None of those ideas happened. They had no chance of happening with my energy levels. But my friends and collaborators still did the meeting and nodded along like everything was fine. I appreciate them humoring me.

I also overshare. I overshare normally, but when I get like this I OVER SHARE. You are probably going to witness it in this very post. But I tell everyone everything about what is going on. I tell strangers. I tell a dog walking by.

"Hey doggie, my testosterone is returning and I'm struggling with having a libido again. I know most people would not complain, but it is very disruptive to my day! I have other things I want to do!"

Right now I am just not confident in anything I think or do. I wrote a post about social constructs yesterday. That literally took me all day to write. I was endlessly tweaking it and I thought it was going to be viral and helpful and win the trans debate for everyone.

It currently has 49 notes.

I'm afraid I did not fix trans rights.

Sorry about that.

And my rant about Christopher Nolan using IMAX is doing pretty well. I nerded out about film grain for like 2 paragraphs and it is getting way more notes than a philosophical perspective on constructs.

I just have no idea what people are going to like and I used to be pretty good at judging that. It's like I'm throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks but instead of a wall I'm throwing it into the void. The spaghetti just disappears into infinite darkness.

I'm clearly still recovering from the big house clean with Katrina. And I am more tired than normal. But I am also very stressed about losing the house. I'm trying to figure it out, but I may only have until the end of June before I have to make some scary decisions.

And also, my air conditioner is not working. It has a leaky evaporator. Last year, I had it recharged and that lasted the entire summer. If the leak is leaking at the same rate, I could just do that again. It would be expensive, but replacing the evaporator is so costly, I'd be better off getting a heat pump installed. I'm a good candidate, it could save me money in the long run, but I am nowhere near in a position to make that happen.

Also, my phone is falling apart.

Literally. The only thing keeping it together is the phone case.

And this laptop, which I love, was not meant to be my main computer. I bought it when my dad was sick and I needed something upstairs to manage his prescriptions and bills and appointments. It wasn't meant to be an image editing machine. And, to their credit, Apple has made a crazy powerful little computer. I admit it, I love an Apple product. It can handle way more than expected. But my photo restorations can sometimes end up with 5 gigabyte files. I can't even save them as PSDs. I have to use this weird "PSB" format. It stands for "Photoshop Big." When I fill up the RAM, my computer uses the main SSD. And when I fill that up, I think I can hear the laptop crying and saying, "I wasn't meant for this! Please use fewer layers!"

But I need to finish restoring these photos because I have delayed their completion by about 5 months (got sick before I could finish). And also because I need to pay for the A/C recharge.

You might be thinking, "Didn't you fundraise to get the big fancy powerful computer of your dreams a few years ago? Why don't you use that?"

My big fancy computer has been broken almost since I got it.

It was right before my mom got really sick and there is a major hardware problem. I worked with tech support for over a month and we could not figure out what the issue was. The computer is mostly unusable. Like, "can't even web browse" unusable.

It honestly has caused me so much depression. Like deep, deep, crying-myself-to-sleep-for-weeks depression. I still cry about it. I know it is just a thing, but I am genuinely heartbroken about it.

Why haven't I fixed it? I'm a good computer fixer, right?

Once I had to take care of my parents, I just did not have any extra energy to deal with it. After a month of back-and-forth emails from the manufacturer, I finally told them, "I'm sorry, my parents are sick. I will email you when I have the energy to revisit this."

If you know my story and how I took care of my parents all alone because I have a neglectful brother, then you can probably guess that energy never came.

I am good at tech support. I have been an expert in computers since I was a teenager. I have taken apart and built computers more times than I can count. I have never had a problem this frustrating before. It works fine for a few hours, and then it just progressively slows down to being unusable. I narrowed the issue to either the SSD, the CPU, or the motherboard. All things that are not easy to replace. (The SSD is behind the damn GPU.)

In the 30s, the Royal Air Force used to have issues with their planes that baffled them. This is where the term "gremlin" came from. No matter what they did, no matter how many parts they replaced, they could not get the "gremlin" out of the plane. These were professional mechanics who just could not fix something and it drove them nuts.

I have a computer gremlin. I've never experienced anything like it in all of my years of fixing computers. I was working with professional tech support people. I was on reddit forums. And the only thing left to do was start swapping out parts. I'd work on it maybe an hour each day with whatever energy I had and it eventually was too much. I just could not deal with it. They told me to send it back, but I could not take care of my parents without any access to a computer. So I just rebooted it every time I used it.

At that point, my parents were requiring 24/7 care and I was so overwhelmed that I said, "fuck it" and ordered this laptop. I figured I'd fix the computer when I had time or energy. But that time and energy never came. And I certainly didn't have the energy to haul a 60 pound computer upstairs, box it up, and then take it to UPS. So I just kept putting it off and putting it off.

And I let the warranty expire.

When I realized I did that, I cried myself to sleep for another few weeks. This material object has caused me legitimate emotional trauma.

Any part replacements are now on me. And there isn't really any way of knowing which part is faulty. I figured I'd buy a cheap SSD and start there.

I feel so fucking guilty because people donated money for me to have that machine. I feel like I let them all down by not getting it fixed. When I finish my recovery, I'm hoping I can sort it out. But that could be many months from now.

Recovery has been such a dark, lonely place. Trying to restore my health a millimeter at a time is a grueling marathon of misery. I have been struggling to keep Insane Froggie Brain at bay this entire time.

I felt like I was stuck in a hole.

And like a superhero with the power of friendship and puns, Katrina pulled me out of the giant hole I was in. My house turned into a biohazard. She flew from Florida to essentially clean and organize everything. How do you even begin to thank someone for that?

But also, she shouldn't have had to do that. I have a perfectly functional brother. But he hasn't spoken to me for nearly a year now.

I have other family in town. But I missed so many family gatherings over the years, they don't really know me. None of them have called. I'd have to rebuild those relationships if I want them to be a part of my life again.

And I haven't talked about this yet because it has been too painful.

But... my support system fell apart.

My aunt had to move away to take care of her father-in-law. A year before my mom passed she took care of my grandma as her end-of-life caregiver. And people should only have to do that once. But she has to do it again, and unfortunately, we haven't been able to speak much.

We were very good at keeping in touch in real life. But she is of an older generation and has trouble maintaining relationships on a smartphone. I mean, I get it. Some people are just better at meatspace than cyberspace. That was actually one of the things I liked about our bond. Almost all of my friendships are online. Having someone who liked to visit me and talk to me in person was special.

But, for the time being, I lost that. And it feels a bit like temporarily losing another parent.

I am struggling to even start writing the words for this next part.

I had two best friends. Katrina and I are great. Our friendship is probably better than it has ever been.

But my other best friend of nearly 15 years ghosted me without explanation.

I haven't talked about it because it has been too hard. Any time I try to think about it I get upset. My eyes are filling up with tears as I type this.

I have been pretending like it isn't happening.

Which is not working great.

I've been trying to hire a therapist.

They all have months-long waiting lists.

My friend just stopped talking to me and I don't know why.

They went from driving across the country and holding my hand at my dad's funeral to just not being a part of my life.

I'm so scared I said something terrible or did something terrible. I keep going through all of my memories trying to figure out what I could have done. But we had the kind of friendship where we'd talk about that stuff. If I screw up, they would tell me. We'd work it out.

This person who was in my life nearly every week for over a decade is just not there anymore. I keep losing people and I can't make it stop. And I am really worried that I am leaning on Katrina too much. She went from being part of a multifaceted support system to my entire support system. That isn't fair to her.

She has been very understanding. And she knows I am going to rebuild a support system as soon as I am able. But I don't want to overwhelm her and lose her too.

Weaning off this medication and living with no testosterone has been so miserable and she has been the only one helping me through it.

I'm doing so well with my recovery. I think I can be off the meds in 3 months and hopefully my testosterone will be fully back in range. I'm already more productive than I have been in nearly 8 months.

But I have 1 month of financial runway left and I am not going to get well enough before then.

Everything happens all at once. Every single time. And usually terrible things happen in my life at the same time terrible things happen in Katrina's life. She had terrible mold that destroyed her health for months. Thankfully it did not turn her transphobic, but it sure fucked her health for a while. She made all of this progress getting fit and healthy and BAM, the universe says, "You are doing too well, you need a challenge!"

So, what is my plan?

I am a problem solver and I have some doozies to solve.

Right now I am going to appeal to the family patriarchs on my dad's side. On his literal deathbed, my dad asked his brothers to "take care of me" and I am going to attempt to call in that favor.

I am going to ask them to talk to my brother and hopefully mediate a solution regarding the stolen inheritance. I want them to convince my brother to do the right thing and return the money he took from my dad.

Sorry, the money he "legally inherited" due to his wife "reinterpreting my dad's wishes" in the will.

Before you ask, I have no options to fight this in court. A verbal promise is not enough to overturn a written will. And the cost of fighting would be more than the inheritance. Please don't suggest any legal advice. I've talked to good lawyers. And unless I want to sue for emotional distress, there aren't any legal options available.

The best option is to appeal to my brother personally and ask him to keep his promise to my dad.

The only reason I am in this mess is because my brother repeatedly promised to give me the money. He said he didn't want it on multiple occasions. So all of my plans involved the expectation of this money. I was going to fix up the basement apartment and seek a roommate.

But it took over a year to just get it out of probate. A year I could have used to come up with other solutions. But he waited until the last minute and made his lawyer tell me he was screwing me.

I'm sure my brother will argue my dad knew what he was signing. But I know that is impossible. Before my dad passed, we were in the hospital and I saw the will for the first time. I asked him if it reflected his wishes. And I asked him if he meant to include my brother's wife in the will.

His response was, "Are you fucking kidding me???"

Readers, does that sound like a man that knew what was in his will?

Dad was so upset that he was about to have them cut off his leg just so he could live a few more weeks and fix the will.

You have to give my dad credit, he goes pretty hardcore when it comes to protecting his family.

I couldn't let him go through an amputation to protect me from my brother's shenanigans.

But I am pretty screwed now.

That said, my uncles are pretty hardcore too. One is *very* intimidating. So I feel like my uncles talking to my brother might carry some weight.

But I have one problem...

I mean, aside from the myriad problems already described.

How about... I have one additional problem...

My uncles don't like me very much.

They think I am a basement-dwelling loser who is faking his illness and was taking advantage of his parents for two decades.

One uncle even accused me of stealing from my dad.

They are protective of their brother. They loved my dad. Which is a good thing! As long as I can convince them that their assumptions about me are invalid, I think their love for my dad will compel them to help me.

They just don't have the context. They don't know me. They live in far-off lands. And due to some unfortunate timing, one uncle saw me at one of the lowest points of my life. This was maybe 8 years ago? He didn't realize I was thrown into the deep end and very recently took on the role as full-time caregiver for two very sick people.

My awful strategy at the time was "if I don't take care of myself, I'll have more energy to take care of my parents." If you are a caregiver, this is a bad strategy. It seems obvious you have to do some self care to give care to others, but when you are just starting out, that seems impossible.

My uncle showed up unannounced and I wasn't showered, I hadn't brushed my teeth in a week, and my room had a fun layer of trash on the floor. The trash can was overflowing and I literally did not have the spare energy to change the bag.

To make matters worse, my mom's medications and constant pain had broken the filter in her brain that prevents her from saying mean things. She was on this crazy chemo-like infusion that was basically using poison to fight her psoriatic arthritis. Her aggressive, blunt remarks were not her fault. That wasn't who she was. But she could not stop herself from saying hurtful things.

The kindest woman alive was suddenly Don Rickles without the "just kidding" subtext. And my uncle didn't know this and I got into an argument with my mom.

I probably looked like a pampered brat loser who just lies in bed and plays video games all day while arguing with his saint of a mother.

I don't blame him. Without context, that's exactly what it looked like.

So I am writing my uncles a letter.

It is essentially a memoir of the caregiving I gave to my parents. I hope to publish it publicly at some point, but right now it is just a letter to them. If it were a typical hardcover book, it would be about 70 pages long.

I am telling them everything.

If nothing else, I just need them to know my dad's story. I need them to know he was well taken care of. That I did everything humanly possible to make his last year as comfortable as I could. I need them to know he was *never* alone.

Sadly, because they probably think I am an unreliable narrator, I am my own worst witness. So I am asking 3 people in my current support system to write testimony to verify everything in my memoir is accurate. I even have a doctor's note!

It is probably insane to put this much effort into convincing my uncles to like me. But I'm pretty sure Sane Froggie Brain is behind the wheel of this endeavor. Sometimes the craziest, most desperate idea is the only option left.

Basically I am using my writing skills to try and save my Froggie butt.

I don't mean to be braggadocious, but people perusing my prose persistently pontificate that I am proficient at penning pleasing passages.

People say I write good sometimes.

And I think this memoir letter thingie is the best thing I've ever written. So I am hopeful I will deflate these dubious assumptions and tug on my uncles' heartstrings.

But there is something you all can do to help me.

A friend on tumblr is helping me edit this memoir monstrosity. And she gave me her testimonial to add to my 3 witnesses.

"I have been following The Frogman for well over a decade on his website. It was years before I learned his name was Benjamin! We all just call him Froggy. He was (and still is) one of the funniest internet guys out there. He is incredibly skilled at putting together humorous GIFs and photo sets, and his comedic writing is second to none. He regularly goes viral. Along with that, he was open and vulnerable about the toll CFS takes on him. I can attest to many folks over the years telling him that he has helped them as they dealt with their own health issues. He is so knowledgeable about so much--his posts are famous for being long, detailed, and wildly informative. And most of all, entertaining. They are a joy to read. We also followed along on his heartbreaking journey with his parents. He shared so much of them with us over the years that they felt like people we knew. It was so clear, from his long absences, how much he was doing for them. Our hearts broke when he told us his parents were no longer with us. Froggy has fans, and so did his parents. Otis, too. We love and support him and will always wish him the best."

It made me cry.

But it also felt like getting a Yelp review on... my entire deal.

And it gave me an idea.

What if I had a bunch of these as optional testimony for my uncles?

I'm not going to force them to read what a bunch of internet strangers have to say. But it could be a compelling way to prove my website antics were a serious attempt to build a livelihood for myself. My uncles were successful businessmen and respect a strong work ethic and trying to make your own way.

I was too early for monetization options like Patreon, TikTok, YouTube, and Twitch, but I ran a very successful comedy blog. If I had my 2013 success in the 2020s, I probably would've been able to retire and live off that for the rest of my life. I have several original GIFs that were downloaded tens of millions of times. Google said one of them was searched for over 100,000,000 times.

My blog was silly, but I took it seriously and I had sponsors and merch and an Otis plush.

They think what I did was like when you are at the family Christmas gathering and you ask your weird cousin what he's been up to and he says, "I run a blog about corgis from my parents' basement."

How do I relate the impact I had? They don't know what "Know Your Meme" is. They don't know what being on the front page of Reddit means. They don't know the amazing community I built. They don't know that I created one of the largest and most generous online support systems one could possibly have. I'm still alive and trying to make a life for myself because all of you continue to love and support me.

I was successful and I worked hard despite my disability.

I just had bad timing with the financial aspect of that success.

So, if you want to leave a Yelp review of The Frogman for my uncles, I'd appreciate it.

I came up with a list of things I need to prove to them. I'm just going to copy/paste the entire thing here. I'll strikethrough the ones you all probably can't speak to.

I am not a basement dwelling loser.

My website was more than a silly hobby.

I did not mooch off my parents for 20+ years.

I did not steal from my parents.

I am not the crazed, awkward mess [my uncle] witnessed.

I am disabled.

I cannot get a job.

I am a good person.

I am a likable person.

I was a good son.

I took good care of my parents.

My parents would not have been better off in a nursing home.

My parents would not have been better off moving closer to my brother.

My brother and his wife neglected and emotionally abused Mom & Dad.

My brother and his wife changed the will to benefit them against my mom & dad’s wishes.

My brother promised repeatedly the will was a mistake and I would receive the full amount.

I did not take care of my parents to “retain the house” or get money.

So, if you want to attempt to convince two elderly conservative Catholic men that my cat memes were lit, I would appreciate the help.

If you’ve been part of this community, and you’ve ever felt like I made you laugh, cry, or feel understood, a short 'review' of me as a person could mean the world.

Just remember your audience is...

Uncle #1: A stoic, but brilliant 80 year old who writes text messages like they are business emails. Complete with "Dear Ben" and "Regards, Your Uncle". He is still very sharp-minded and lucid. He thinks success is a high paying job, a house, and a family (my brother). He does not like weakness and consistently thought I should "be an adult and get a job." He is very loyal and respected my dad very much.

Uncle #2: A 60-something retired grandpa who thinks his constant dad jokes are genuinely funny. He is empathetic, but secretly judgmental. He will act like your best friend even if he doesn't care for you. He is an amazing grandpa. Very involved with his kids and their kids. He keeps every video of them getting a goal in sportsball on his phone. He will help you if you think you deserve to be helped. He is very close with Uncle #1.

So... kinda running the gamut there.

You can reblog this post or leave a reply or send a private message or email me at frogman54@gmail.com

I will be anonymizing your names for obvious reasons.

I fear my uncles might not understand why Tumblr user "PokemonAssBlaster69" is saying nice things about me.

Explaining "The Frogman" is hard enough.

Anyway, thank you in advance.

[bluemantics]

ficlet giveaway prize for @yuutsunaoi of klance "struggling to adjust with their new roles as the red and black paladin." i hope you enjoy!

Shiro was gone, and everything was going incredibly wrong.

"Pidge, go to sleep."

"I can find him."

"I'm serious. You need to sleep."

"You can't tell me what to do, Keith, you're not my mom."

"We need you well-rested for Voltron, and I'm the Black Paladin--"

"Isn't he your brother? Do you even want him back?"

Lance groaned, pinching his nose as he leaned against the wall. He had positioned himself just outside the Castleship's living room after he saw Keith go in, worried that the temperamental fighter would offend their youngest teammate. Lo and behold, it hadn't even taken two minutes before the two started to clash.

While Lance could appreciate how they normally melded, he knew that Shiro's... vanishing would trigger fight-or-flight responses in both of them. Honestly, it was a miracle that Keith hadn't spirited off to some random planet on a panic-induced sabbatical. Or maybe the true miracle was that Pidge hadn't ripped Keith's face off, he wondered, as he walked through the door and took in the scene before him.

Pidge had jumped on top of the couch, face contorted in anger, hands balled at her sides. Her computer was lying forgotten beside her feet. Facing her, Keith was entirely red, thick eyebrows pulled down in distinct rage. At least, that was what he wanted Pidge to think.

It was easy for Lance to note the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. Yeah, that comment about Shiro had definitely landed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lance called out, raising his arms. Instantly, both heads whipped to face him, expressions unchanged. "Let's back it up, guys."

Keith straightened up and crossed his arms. "It's fine. Pidge just needs to listen."

"I swear to god," Pidge seethed, "I will tear your stupid hair off your stupid head."

Okay, Lance was always in support of a hair insult when it came to Keith, but he had to stop this.

"No one is ripping anyone's hair. Pidge, I admire what you're doing here. Really, I do," Lance began, gesturing to the computer. "No one else on the team can sort through all the data you're collecting from the lion and the Galrans."

"I know. That's why I have to keep working," she snapped. Lance approached her slowly.

"Okay, but what if I told you that's the reason you need to slow down?"

"That makes no sense." Pidge looked curious, though, and a soft smile pulled at Lance's lips. He'd caught her on the hook easily. Unlike the others, Pidge couldn't be persuaded with placating words or niceties. No, what she needed was a little bit different.

"Logically, humans can't operate at capacity for 24 hours straight. We don't have the brainpower." He knocked on his own head to demonstrate, aware of Keith's eyes fixating on his every movement. Good. Maybe he could take something out of this. "Brains need time to breathe, Pidgey."

"I know that," she huffed, but her eyes softened slightly.

"So, if you know that, you know you're likely not an exception." Lance reached over to her computer and plucked it up, closed the lid, and held it out to her. His heart melted a little at her frown. Pidge was far too young to be losing her family and Shiro at the same time, much less being burdened with their rescues. "You'll find him. I know you will. But you're gonna make a mistake or miss something if you aren't in tip-top shape while you search."

Hesitantly, Pidge's hand darted forward to pull her computer to her chest. Hugging it to herself tightly, she looked between Lance and Keith, apprehensive yet seeming more open than before. Finally, she gave Lance a sharp nod. It wasn't long before she jumped down from her perch and stomped out of the room, the automatic doors swishing shut behind her. Keith let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a sigh of relief and a groan.

"I'm shit," he mumbled, wiping his hands down his face. A chuckle pulled out of Lance's throat.

"A little bit," Lance agreed, turning to face Keith with amusement clear on his face. His lighthearted mood died down, though, when Keith moved to sit on the couch, elbows braced against his knees as he slumped over. "Oh, hey, buddy."

"I can't do this, Lance."

"What? Force Pidge to sleep?" Lance quickly took a seat at Keith's right, crossing an ankle over his knee.

"All of it," Keith muttered. His deep eyes looked thoughtful and weary as they stared straight ahead, fixed on nothing. "People wanted to listen to Shiro. Sure, sometimes they'd disagree, but they eventually came around. They trusted him to know more. I trusted him."

"Hmm," Lance nodded, thinking back. Keith wasn't lying; following Shiro had been natural. He was older, experienced, and had a solid balance of intimidation and empathy. "So you don't feel like you've got that same respect as Black Paladin?" Keith let out a broken laugh, shaking his head.

"Why would they listen to me? I'm a mess. I didn't exactly hide that."

"No, that's not it," Lance pressed. "They just don't think you understand them."

"I don't. They're right."

"Well, you can try," Lance said, gears turning in his head quickly. "Tonight was a good example. Pidge is angry, kinda like you, about a lot of stuff, but especially about losing control. She feels like she's entirely out of control with the loss of Shiro and all the changes in our lions."

Keith was watching Lance, now, eyebrows raised at his explanation. Hopefully, that was an invitation to continue. "So, meet her where she is. Relate to her. Explain things how she'd want to hear it, not in the way you think Shiro would."

"I'm not good at that," Keith responded, shifting uncomfortably. His hands twitched where they rested. "You do that shit way better."

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to help you. Which is literally my job, by the way." Lance's hand moved between the two of them as he spoke. "I can help you meet them where they are, help them feel seen. I'll show you their communication styles. I promise, it isn't as hard as it seems."

"Okay," Keith agreed, unsure but still affirmative.

"But you have to help me, too. This is a partnership."

"A partnership?" Keith snorted in disbelief. "You hate working with me off the battlefield. You called me stupid at least five times in the last month."

Lance scoffed, waving the notion away. "Well, I'm a mature adult, so I can put aside my qualms with you despite your tragically dramatic hangups." That drew an actual laugh from Keith, oddly enough, sparking little butterfly flaps in Lance's stomach. Weird.

"What do you need?" Keith asked through the slight upward tilt of his lips. Shaking his head, Lance snapped back to their conversation.

"Teach me to fight."

"Fight?" Keith tilted his head. "You're our sharpshooter, though. You shouldn't need to do hand-to-hand." While that acknowledgment pleased him, Lance rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but clearly I'm occupying some different shoes now." He shrugged. "I need to be ready to fill any gaps on the team, now, with one of our close-range guys out of the picture. Plus, I can't always expect that the battles won't come to me, even if you guys try to protect me."

Without pause, Keith sat up, leaning toward Lance. His eyes bore into Lance's with an intensity and fire expected out of the former Red Paladin. "You'll take it seriously?"

A pang struck Lance's gut. "Obviously. I'm insulted you'd ask."

"Fine, then. It's a deal."

"It's a partnership," Lance reminded him, elbowing his side. A grunt of affirmation sounded from Keith, who shoved Lance away with an arm. Letting the momentum carry him, Lance flopped down onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

The whole team had been struggling recently, not just Lance and Keith. Pidge was staying up to run data on Black. Allura spent overtime poring over diplomatic records and contacting foreign planets. Hunk struggled to tamp down on his anxieties during group discussion, nausea clear on his face. Even Coran was less chipper and more focused than before.

But, just maybe, if Keith and Lance could lead the way, the others would fall in step. Together, they could... make it easier. Okay, even.

That was only his privately held theory, though. Voicing it aloud was unthinkable.

"Bedtime?" he suggested to Keith.

"Training," Keith shot back, heaving himself to his feet and yanking the couch cushion out from under Lance. Crashing to the floor with a yelp, Lance stared up at Keith, rubbing his leg.

"Ow, dude!"

"I'll meet you at the training deck in ten minutes. Get changed and grab water."

Lance smirked at his retreating back and shoved himself upright.

Yeah, they'd be fine.

[sibsteria]

hi! just saw your 2025 rec list and that you write for spencer! i beg for a spence best friends/coworkers to lovers short lil sm sm (oneshot) if you're okay w that! also idk if you have a smosh/spencer series in the works but if you ever write one i can confirm I'll be your biggest fan love your fics can't wait to read more :)

@people-arelovers

Must be love on the brain...

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

Masterlist

a/n yes! absolutely, hello, hi, here I am- writing most of this in line for Pitbull tickets, dale (also combining two requests here, and I will absolutely be doing a series at some point fyi!)

Warnings/Content: alcohol, light angst, embarrassment, hinted pining, kissing, not proofread

Summary: A work's night out leads to drunken confessions...

''You don't have to drink to have a good time, y'know?'' Shayne shrugs at Spencer, his decision wary on joining the small group as he wasn't quite feeling up to a rager.

''There's not really a point in going to a bar if I don't drink, I'll just be surrounded by drunk people and feeling left out.'' He chuckles, he probably won't come anyway, his gaming chair is calling his name pretty loudly.

''Y/n is coming.'' Shayne throws it out there, he knew of Spencer's pining feelings towards the girl, a last ditch effort to get him to think about coming.

''Yeah, and I'll be boring and not drinking and- it's stupid.'' He runs a hand through his hair, thinking about you, how much he does in fact, love being around you.

''You know she doesn't care about that stuff?'' Shayne could almost feel himself rolling his eyes at his friend, how stubborn.

''Yeah...'' That's just one reason why he liked you so much, why you were his best friend.

Meanwhile, you were sat at your desk, having a similar conversation.

''I honestly don't think he's going to come.'' You smile, popping a piece of homemade hard candy Garrett had made.

''He might?'' Tommy smirks at you, he knew how you felt about the curly haired man.

''When has he ever, ever, come to a bar with us?'' You giggle at Tommy, shaking your head.

''There's a first time for everything.'' He brings up his hands, one forming an '0' and the other forming an 'I' before he puts them tog-

''Tommy! No!'' You whisper yell, you never know who could be around.

''Oh, come on, you want it. Live a little, Y/n, sweep that little nerd off his feet.'' He raises his eyebrows as if to say 'think about it'.

''Someone as funny and pretty and as cool as him wouldn't even think twice about me, we are just friends.'' You sigh at your own reality, how you wish it wasn't true, but beggars can't be choosers and at least you get to see his face nearly every day.

''You are so stupid.'' He saw the way he looked at you, as if you had hung the stars just for him, why are you always so stubborn? At least you and Spencer have that in common.

''Shut up!'' You squint at him, grumbling before you turn to your computer, time to get some work done before you can go home and shower.

You were sat at your vanity mirror, painstakingly applying some makeup so you look some variation of decent- the bags under your eyes telling a story of fatigue.

Your phone beeps out a message.

Message from: Spimgler

< Hey, sitting this one out, have a great time- miss you! >

Of course, but you couldn't blame him, a night in bed sounds a lot better than unwanted mingling with strangers right now but Tommy would have your head if you didn't come.

You down a glass of wine for your nerves whilst getting ready, you hate getting hit on and it’s not uncommon.

“Told you he wouldn’t come.” You grin at Tommy, you being right once again, although you wish you weren’t- maybe if he was here you wouldn’t feel so out of your depth.

“Yeah, whatever.” Tommy hands you a drink, he had been there a little while before you arrived.

The drunker you let yourself get, the more your mind wouldn’t let up on thoughts of Spencer. The smell of his shampoo as he leans into on one of the couches, the softness of his touch as hugs you when it all gets a bit too much to handle, the teasing smiles he shot at you like bullets when he tries to make you laugh. You get more and more sour as the night progresses, shooting down each potent bomb of liquor and strongly poured drinks.

As expected, just as you had unfortunately lost your group, you were approached by a man. But long gone was the slightly sober discomfort and combative attitude you would have once wore, a drunken mess of social embarrassment lies in its place.

“You know, my friend Spencer is so pretty-“ You hiccup, leaning with your elbow on the bar and cheek in your hand.

“Um, I asked if you wanted to dance with me?” The guy raises an eyebrow at you.

“I want to dance with Spencer! God, I miss him so damn much, I love him…I’m- I love him a lot-“ You frown, sniffling a little, why wasn’t he here right now.

“Okay…” He looks around the room, wondering if you were here all alone.

“Need to see him so bad, can you call Spencer?” You yawn, giggling as you imagine his adorable little voice.

“Not-not really, I don’t know this dude-“ He’s urgently scanning around now, he swore he had seen you with some people- a lanky brunette, a shorter blonde guy, a blonder girl, two dark haired ladies who were screaming at the table together where he first saw you-

“He’s so smart, y’know? So pretty and God, I wish he knew it. He’s funny…too funny for me- I love Spence-“ The man you were currently borderline harassing came into quick thanks as the lanky brunette neared you, clearly recognising you and starts to laugh at your words.

“Okay, okay. C’mon Y/n, stop professing your love for Spencer to strangers.” Tommy mouths a ‘sorry’ at the guy and he just half smiles, awkwardly- it was his choice to approach the plastered girl at the bar, anyways.

“Spencer…” You whine, dragged away by Tommy, your cheeks are flushed and you can’t even walk straight.

“Want me to call him, to come get you?” Although you harboured strong, strong feelings for the man- he knew he was also your best friend and could handle you in this state, and would also drop anything to help you. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to meddle and progress things along- a hope you would possibly spill your guts to him. It was no secret that Spencer returned your feelings, except to you.

“Yes!” You scream in excitement, he walks you outside for some fresh air, you slump down on the pavement. Tommy calls Spencer from your phone, he’s more likely to pause whatever game he is playing to answer your call.

“Y/n, hey, you oka-“ His voice holds a happy tone as he answered.

“It’s Tommy, hey look, could you- stop lying down on the dirty street!” He yelps at you as you don’t feel like sitting upright anymore, “-could you come and pick her up? She’s a bit of a mess and honestly past the point of enjoying herself, just want her home safe.

“Be there in ten.” Is all he says before buttoning the phone down, Tommy sighing in relief- he just didn’t want you to end your hurt- you were actually pretty funny right now all things considered.

“Y/n, honey, he’s on his way.” He sits next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder, comforting you.

“Who?” You look at his completely quizzical.

“Spencer-“

“Spencer’s coming?!” You smile, dreamily, squealing a little, oh yeah, this was going to be a perfect disaster.

It had been just under ten minutes as he pulls up a metre or so away from the two of them, getting out of his car and heading straight for his best friend.

“Thank you, thank you! She needs a whole lotta’ rest.” Tommy stands up and tried to bring you up with him but you whine out, not wanting to move just yet. “I am so sorry for what you may be about to go through.” Although he’s smiling, indicating he is not sorry at all.

“Have a good night.” Spencer nods curtly, locking his car just in case before sitting next to you.

“When is Spencer getting here?” You mumble into your arms, head in your knees.

“Peekaboo.” An airy tone to his voice as your head shoots up.

“Oh- Spence!” You shriek, wrapping your arms around him tightly, though you had done it many times before- he still couldn’t help his heart as it beat a little faster.

“H-hey, beautiful, you doing okay?” You giggle as he talks to you, beautiful, he says.

“You’re the beautiful one, stupid.” You lay your head on his shoulder

“Oh, yeah?” He’s caught a little off guard.

“Mhm, pretty, pretty…” You sigh as you nuzzle into him, jesus, how much did you drink.

“I’m pretty to you?” He automatically goes for the teasing avenue, combatting how he feels with a joke.

“Obviously, I wouldn’t be in love with you if you weren’t.” You scoff as if it’s common knowledge, his mouth gapes open, he’s…what?

“What?” He repeats his thoughts.

“What?” You yawn, still happy as a baby on his shoulder.

“You just said- you’re in love with me?” He asks it as a question, you probably just mean a friendly ‘I love you’.

“Yeah…but you don’t like me back though, so it’s silly of me. You’re just so pretty and amazing and- I’ve loved you since I first met you…” You look as if you’re falling asleep, Spencer’s head is a flurry full of confusion- he feels like he should be hyperventilating right now.

“I…” This was definitely a talk for sober Y/n, no matter how much he wanted to tell her he loved her right now.

“It’s okay…I’m used to it.” It’s like you can’t quite recognise this is reality and not a nightly dream of yours.

“I’ll drive you home? Or-“

“Can we have a sleep over?” You blink up at him, wondering why you are seeing three Spencers.

“Sure…” He bites his lip, you were extremely cute like this, usually you would be so stubborn and nonchalant and cool.

The drive back is surprisingly uneventful, you practically passed out in the passenger seat, head against the window after he had told you you cant hug him whilst he drives.

“Your car smells good…smells like you.” You smiled at nothing, a patter of rain beginning to hits the windows, lulling you into serenity. Jesus, you can’t keep saying that shit whilst he’s driving, now all he wants to do is look at you and listen to the adoring words. Was how he smelled comforting to you?

He had managed to get you through his front door easier than expected, you were willing to follow his every word.

He gave you some privacy as you haphazardly dressed yourself up in a backup pair of pyjamas you had left at his house, he hears a few bangs and nearly opens the door to check on you but ultimately decides maybe that’s not the best idea- he wants to respect your privacy as always.

“Spence!” You shout, laying on his bed already, you were so ready to sleep.

“You ready to go to sleep? You got a brutal hangover waiting for you tomorrow.” He grins at you as your pout into the air.

“Ugh.”

“I’ll let you settle down.” He whispers, attempting to walk away. You slept in the same bed more than once before, whenever you had slept over but…he just knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep next to you tonight- repeating what you had said to him over and over again, overthinking and-

“Can you stay a little? ‘Till I fall asleep?” How can he say no as your sweet, tired voice tweets up at him.

“Till you fall asleep.” He confirms, his heard stammering as he moves to sit next to you, back against the headboard as you lay, you inch towards him touching his arm with you nose and he wants to explode. He can feel the air you breathe through your nose, hitting his arm as you slowly fell into slumber, a subtle smile on your face.

What was going to happen tomorrow?

Your head throbs as you stir, already feeling the nausea set in, your tongue sticking to your mouth due to how dehydrated you were. You smell something that you recognise, something that’s not your house…oh, fuck.

Memories from last night violently hammer at your head, or was that just the hangover? You fucked up so hard, you told him you love him? What were you thinking, clearly you weren’t at all.

Your eyes blink open, his bedside table catching your attention. There stood a big glass of water, some painkillers and…a note?

Good morning,

If you are reading this, take these pills before you leave the room, I can hear your headache from here.

-S

Was he going to be angry? Upset? Uncomfortable? Oh, god, you have ruined your whole relationship with him.

You do as he had said, slamming the pain relief in your mouth before washing the pills down with two thirds of the glass.

Maybe you could sneak out, facing your bad, bad drunk decisions seemed like a nightmare.

You creep to the pile of your stuff in the corner of the room, slowly changing into your clothes, not putting your shoes on yet just in case.

You pry open the door, peeking at the space outside, no sign of Spencer.

You quietly move towards the front door, you had gotten away with it- a loud creak sounds from a floorboard beneath you- nearly, you had nearly gotten away with it?

“Y/n?” He follows the sound to its source. “Are you…leaving?” He can’t blame you for wanting to.

“Um, sorry. It’s just-“

“Yeah, I know, you didn’t mean it- it’s okay.” Forever the respectful man he was, he never lashes out, never got angry- he just…pretended he was okay.

“Mean what?” You want to know what he thought, if you had embarrassed yourself as much as you thought.

“Look, last night, you were drunk and it’s fine- you were just being the best friend you are- you don’t need to feel sorry about it.”

“Spence….” You put down your shoes and your bag.

“You said you were in love with me, but you didn’t mean it like that, it’s okay.” The look in his eyes told you he was not okay, was he…upset?

“I-“

“Just- I’ll drive you home, okay?” He half smiles, trying to look normal, the room goes silent as you decide it’s all or nothing.

“I meant it…by the way.” You hold your breath, if you had read the situation wrong you basically just doubled down on the burning crash that was your friendship.

“You- what?” He stops putting his shoes on, looking up at you.

“I…I am, in love with you…” Your chest heaves a little faster as the tension in the room was becoming too much.

“You…are?” Shit, you had misread it.

“Okay, no, it’s fine- just drive me home, forget what I said-“

“I love you. Too, I love you too.” He can’t meet your eyes yet, everything was up in the air, a pressure on your chest.

“No, I- I love you. Like, I want to be the person you see every morning, the person you wake up to. I am so in love with you it hurts, you are gorgeous and smart and funny and-“

“Stop.” Your breath hitches, was this it now?

“Y/n…I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever had the chance to know, to be best friends with and to…fall in love with. You are the first thought I have in the morning and the last one I have before I fall asleep. All I do is think of you, what is she doing? Is she happy? I bet she looks pretty right now, like all the time. Since you spilled coffee all over Damien on your first day- both of your awkward apologies and the both of you being too kind to be angry at the situation. You…I need you.” He’s standing in front of you now, looking down at you with those deep-set eyes, it was also a perk you him that you were shorter than him- a rarity. You can’t speak as you relay everything he said, all you want to do is kiss him, and he is thinking the same.

You tentatively step closer, his head leans down, aching slow and unsure, your hands come up to cup his cheek and steady yourself on his shoulder as you lean up. Your lips meet and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve tasted, that could just be the Kickstart, but he kisses you with such care and emotion- you have never been kissed like this. Or maybe you have but it’s never felt like this- like it was meant to happen, like you were made for him. His hands delicately find their home resting on your hips, your mouths moving together- kissing him deeper.

Neither of you seem to want to stop but eventually it gets difficult to breath through just your noses.

“So…”

He smiles at you, he had a feeling his life was just about to become beautiful.

a/n update! guess who won the ticketmaster war is seeing pitbull ft shaggy in concert? me, dale xo

[taylorman2274]

Today Is Where Your Book Begins (Chapter I)

With the final chapter having concluded, the entirety of Teyvat has come to realize that everything in their life has been one massive storybook. Now they have broken free from their predetermined endings and wish to write their own story. While some remain content with their lives, others recall the Reader of their story offering them many a helping hand in the past, and wish for them to witness their future.

Content Warning(s): An Attempt was Made to Guess Genshin Impact's Ending as of Version 5.3.

Notes: SAGAU, GN!Reader, Aether!Traveler, Lumine!Sibling

Word Count: 1k

Previous || Next

---------------------------------------------------------

Genshin Impact's story is over.

...Well to be more precise, the Teyvat arc of Genshin Impact's story is over.

The Traveler, Aether, was finally able to reunite with their sibling, Lumine; and after a long heart-to-heart conversation, they were able to hug it out in the end. To be honest, it left you a bit teary-eyed.

Now, nearly all of the playable (and yet-to-be-released) characters were gathered in an undisclosed location with Aether, Lumine, and Paimon taking center stage.

The crowd was cheering, whooping, and hollering. They praised the Traveler for all of his deeds, for he had become their hero from another world. He had spared them all from their predetermined fate.

Soon enough, a 'Speech! Speech! Speech!' chant began to grow from the crowd. You couldn't help yourself but join along with the chant as well. Aether could only chuckle and scratch the back of his head, a subtle blush forming on his cheeks. Eventually, he urged the crowd to quiet down and began to give an endearing speech.

The speech was truly one of the best things that the Genshin writing team had ever conjured up, and that was saying something! It involved a lot of heart-touching tributes, nostalgic memories, and kindhearted thanks to many of their friends.

Aether thanked the people from the eight nations for accepting them into their capital city. He thanked the Archons for helping them learn more about Teyvat as a whole. He thanked Paimon for being the best guide in the whole world. He thanked Lumine for finally coming back to him.

"...And thank you, Reader from Beyond the Stars, for bestowing upon me the strength needed to complete my journey. I hope that fate allows us to meet in the future."

...

...?

'Reader from Beyond the Stars?' you questioned yourself. 'Are they talking about me? I don't know anyone else who would fit that description.'

As the game let you gain control of your character and gave you the rewards for completing the Archon Quest, more thoughts continued to rummage in your mind. This chaotic mess that was your brain continued to clutter your mind until only a single thought was left more prominent than the rest.

...

'Holy shit Genshin just made me canon.'

...

...

...

'Probably one of my greatest achievements to be honest.'

Looking at the time, you see that it's approaching midnight. Given that your day tomorrow is packed to the brim with various tasks and activities, you decide to log off and get some sleep.

"Alright, Genshin," you spoke to your computer with a fond gaze. "It was fun while it lasted. Y'all have fun without me."

You exited the game, closed the launcher, and shut off your computer.

---------------------------------------------------------

"You don't know what you have until it's gone."

Aether has heard this quote many times before, but he's never liked it that much. He's always known what he's had:

Lumine.

Lumine is everything to Aether just as Aether is to Lumine. That's how it has always been throughout their lives. They were inseparable up until their encounter with the Unknown God. How can you not know something inseparable from you?

It wasn't until recently that Aether heard another version of this quote that seemed to align with his perspective better.

"Appreciate what you have before time makes you appreciate what you had."

500 years had come and gone before the two siblings were able to reunite again. They are always constantly worried for each other, that something fatal might happen to them, permanently separating the two forever.

But they don't need to worry about that anymore. They are finally back together.

All thanks to Paimon. All thanks to the seven Archons. All thanks to their many friends across Teyvat.

...

All thanks to their one friend not from Teyvat.

The Reader from Beyond the Stars.

Although Aether was aware of them since that fated day on the beach underneath Stormbearer Point, he was powerless to push them away without his former strength.

At first, he was afraid. He could not control any part of his body. Not when he was only a puppet in the eyes of this being.

He hated not being in control. It reminded him of what it felt like to be weak.

Next, he became curious, the being didn't seem to wish him harm. Instead, it appeared as if the being was wishing him to succeed. Slowly but steadily, the being helped him regain his former strength. All the while not asking for anything in return.

'What could they possibly want from me?' Aether pondered.

Then, he became content. Eventually, he began to learn the being's tendencies when fighting and what they wanted to expect out of him. They became two minds in one body, flawlessly traversing the environment and slaying any opponents that stood in their path.

This feeling of always knowing somebody's got your back. Somebody who is on your power level and can match your fighting prowess.

...They haven't had this feeling since they lost Lumine.

Then, he understood. Teyvat is a storybook. The ley lines are the words on the page. The people are characters. Their destinies are just endings written down by the Primordial One, the Author. They have never had a choice in their lifetime. Everything has followed according to the words on the pages time and time again.

This being, the one who has been with them since the beginning of their journey, is a Reader.

A Reader who wishes to change the storybook so that its ending is incomplete. That way, the people within the book will be able to write as many pages of their own destiny as they want until they sign off on their own ending.

When Alice first told them this, he and Paimon were more shocked than they had ever been before. This was the secret that the Hexenzirkel had been secretly guarding throughout their entire existence?

It was honestly hard to believe.

Nevertheless, he is extremely thankful to the Reader for helping him throughout his journey. Just as he is towards Paimon and their friends across Teyvat.

In all honesty, words may not be enough to describe how thankful he is. Paimon and all of his friends can probably see that.

So when he decided to thank the Reader from Beyond the Stars during his speech, knowing that they were present.

"I hope that fate allows us to meet in the future."

He absolutely meant it when he said that.

They deserve to be rewarded for their hard work; And by the Archons is he going to find a way meet them.

---------------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes: Ta-da! A new series has arrived!

I hope that the way I've portrayed Teyvat was easy to understand, it's unlike anything that's been written in the SAGAU fandom to my knowledge.

I'll be going back through this over the next couple of days for any errors or misspellings I may have written. Probably gonna be a bunch of POV mistakes. But otherwise, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this new series!

[hwangism143]

limbo (part 1)

synopsis: five years ago, lee minho had broken your heart. but five years ago, unbeknown to you, he had also broken his

pairing: non-idol!minho x non-idol!fem reader

warnings: angst, angst, angst. mentions of a breakup and being heartbroken. phrases using the words 'knife' and 'drowning'

word count: 1.6k words

masterlist I part 2

"you took the best of my heart, and left it all in pieces"

then (five years ago).

The moon was always your favorite companion. It made you feel protected. During every important moment in your life, the moon was always there with you. It's silver glow shone on you and your surroundings, dousing everything in an ethereal light.

You prayed that night, for the moon to give you courage.

Minho walked over to you, carrying two lemonades in his hands. Oh, he was beautiful. Even if he was wearing a loose fitting over-sized hoodie and jeans that he had grabbed when you suggested this spontaneous late-night walk, he looked like the world revolved around him.

"Here," he said, sitting down beside you. He quietly sipped his drink and each time he brought the cup to his lips, your heart sank further. He wasn't even looking at you. Since the past few days, all your interactions felt transactional.

All you interactions felt like they had lost the love that used to be infused in them.

"I got a job offer," you say softly, willing for him to look at you. You wait patiently for his response.

"Oh," is all he can muster.

You feel numb. "Oh?" you ask. You hesitate, "Minho, you aren't even looking at me. Look at me."

His face slowly snaps towards yours. Minho's eyes reflect a tired, dull expression. His hair falls to one side and his mouth is slightly open, releasing a puff of breath.

"When did you fall out of love with me?" you ask, eyes shining with tears of hope and fear.

"I don't think I did," comes his cold response.

"Really, because-"

"I don't think I fell in love with you in the first place," he abruptly says.

A tear of anguish and hurt rolled down your right cheek. This time, you're the one who takes a while to say anything. You feel like you're crumbling. Sure, you hadn't known each other for that long, but how could he be so cruel? Why lead you on like this? Why whispers empty affirmations of love when he never fell in the first place?

That night, Minho lay in bed alone. You were at your parents house. You had told him to pack your things and send it to your parents. You were gone. The bed felt cold and empty. It felt like all the light in the house had been snuffed out. And Minho?

Minho felt utterly and completely broken. He had no other word for it. It felt like the parts of his body were tossed around everywhere, like his brain had completely shut down. He couldn't function. His better half had left him and all he had was himself, purely imperfect and unable to do anything.

Minho lied to you. The part about not falling out of love was true. But the reason he lied was because he was still in so, so much love.

He cursed himself for loving you so much. Maybe if he was a little selfish, maybe if he wanted something for himself, you would still be here with him. Maybe you would still be here for him. However, he loved you so much, that he knew he had to let you go.

When he saw the email with the job offer on your computer, the world froze. Minho knew you had the beautiful and lethal quality of loving so viscerally that you would devote yourself wholly to the person you loved. Minho on the other hand, considered love to be a fleeting entity. He knew that you would refuse to follow your dreams, citing distance as a reason to stay in Seoul with him, for a love that would possibly even fizzle out down the road.

That was the day Minho decided that he would have to let you spread your wings as he clipped his.

Minho figured that arguing with you to go would be pointless. You would continue to push the argument until the date of confirmation had passed. And so, he took up the heart-breaking endeavor of making you seem like it was never love. The only way that you would let go of the love you shared was if you thought it was never even love at all.

It was a painful process, making it seem like he didn't love you anymore. Every fallen smile, every quick glance made it feel like a knife was twisting inside Minho. He considered backing out and begging you to stay multiple times. Absolutely not, he would chide himself whenever those thoughts entered his mind, I must let her go for her own happiness.

Even Minho's beloved cats knew he betrayed them. They barely came to him and snarled at him as he shuffled around, a ghost in his own home. He began packing up your things handling them with a care and affection he could no longer show you.

There were so many tidbits of the journey of your relationship around the house. Each one brought back a flood of memories that temporarily paralyzed Minho. Tickets from the first movie you went to, your books and the couple items that you both owned. The cup with your lipstick stain and the brownies you had poorly attempted to bake. The gifts you had gotten him and the the trinkets he had gotten you.

Those inanimate objects belonged more in the house you both shared than Minho did.

He packed everything up when his eyes fell on your favorite, oversized sweater. The cats would not budge from their home in the sweater, looking up at him with steely glares. It smelled like you, he thought.

"Please," his voice broke, "I need it. I need to give it to her. Please."

He collapsed next to the sweater and let out a shaky breath. "Please." His cats didn't move.

Silent cries and quiet pain filled the room.

now (five years later).

Minho was sitting in the SoDoNg lobby. Being the owner of one of the most successful cat café franchises in Korea was certainly... humbling. Seungmin and Jeongin, the finances and socials managers respectively, bickered over coffee flavors. The head chef of the Seoul branch, Felix, watched as the cafe's designer Hyunjin drew a sketch of the plant sitting in front of him.

All of them being here made sense, but Minho wondered what Changbin, Han and Chan were doing here. The music producing trio were here all the time anyways, now they were even present during the business meetings.

Although, considering how they hadn't spoken a word about business, Minho thought that Sunday brunch might have been a more befitting moniker for the meet-up.

"Damn hyung," said Changbin, "Y/N turned hot."

Minho didn't spare him a glance. None of them knew the whole truth of what had happened, just that she'd gotten a job and that the two of them broke up. Minho could feel Hyunjin studying him intently. The hopeless romantic of the group was always trying to set up the other boys to make up the absence of romance in his own life.

"Look, I just hope she's happy. We're done and I bet she doesn't even remember me."

You wondered how he was. Some of your mutual friends had said that Minho was an owner of a chain of cat cafes. You were slightly surprised, never taking him as the business executive type. Only the cat part made sense to you.

You despised him for what he did to you. Because of him, you couldn't love properly anymore. Anytime you felt yourself falling or somebody else told you they were falling, you pushed them away. You couldn't suffer from the heartbreak of finding out that the love you had deluded yourself into thinking you were happy in was an illusion.

The thought of coming back to Seoul filled you with dread. What if you saw him again? What would happen then? You wanted to slap him. You needed to hear an apology from him. You would probably end up bursting into to tears.

These were the thoughts that clouded your mind as you made your way to the dairy section of the grocery store. Working abroad had definitely changed you. You felt so much more mature and confident. Maybe not in the romantic sense, but it felt like your skin truly fit over your bones. You had grown out your hair, changed your style and decided to reflect who you were, not who the world wanted you to be.

You tried to reach for the ricotta cheese at the top of the open freezer. Another thing that had changed were your cooking skills. Back when you lived with Minho, and even before that, he always insisted on cooking for you. Now, you had to fend for yourself.

"Excuse me," you ask the man in front of you, "can you please get down the ricotta cheese for me? I can't reach and I would really appreciate it."

Minho stilled. He recognized that voice. He would recognize it anywhere, no matter where he was.

It was the voice that whispered 'I love you' to him for the first time. It was the voice that scolded him playfully, that told him he was perfect. It was the voice that had shakily asked him if he didn't love anymore. It was the voice that he played in recordings when he felt like he was drowning in loneliness. It was the voice that he willed himself to forget and couldn't for the life of him.

Minho quietly handed the ricotta to you without even turning towards you. You thought there was something familiar about him.

"I'm sorry if this is a weird questions but, do I know you?" you asked tentatively.

Minho should have said no. He should have walked away and spared both of you the agony of seeing each other again. But this time, he let himself be selfish. He left himself fulfill his desires, his urge to see you in all you beauty and all you glory.

Minho turned to face you.

"Minho?"

a/n: haha. i have delivered you a steaming platter of pain. if you want, i'll maybe make a pt. 2?? anyways, drop your feedback, and honestly anything you wanna say, below!

[pinkandgoldensoul]

CL#16 || living in vain || drabble

Navigation || Masterlist

If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader genre: extra angst, comfort !tw!: negative thoughts, mental breakdown. If any of the things above might trigger you, please DO NOT INTERACT. Take care of your mental health and stay away from triggers, please ♥ other notes: you can find the request here word count: 0.7k

Cold spread from your fingertips onto your skin, printing shivers all over your arms as you braced yourself under the duvet. You trembled, hearing the howls of the wind shaking trees in the dead night, incapable of falling asleep. You curled on one side, trying to get small upon the mattress. That stone cold loneliness hardened your heart hit after hit. Gripping the hem of the sheets tighter and closer vainly seeking warmth, you let out a sigh. You felt like crying. As any other day. As any other week, month, year. Maybe bitterness and despair would eat your heart out and waste it gradually until you'd die, consumed; maybe tears would leave marks on your cheeks like acid rain digs holes on marble statues. Maybe you'd be left sinking into pain for the rest of your life, laying sleepless in your bed every single night.

You pressed your cheek harder on the pillow, almost burying half of your face. Thoughts popping up like your brain is a computer running with countless viruses. Where's the bug? Where's the bug in you? Where's the infected folder? Your own WannaCry malware? Where's the option to turn off everything, shutting down the engine, putting an end to it?

You whined against the pillow. You silently gasped, noticing Charles moving a bit by your side; you should've paid attention, instead of risking waking him up. His precious soul, his shining armor blinding you with its brightness, the mere thought of his perfect love for you brought you to tears. Again, you hid your shame, your guilt and sorrow against the pillow, and finally some warmth came through hot tears rolling down your cheeks. The air flowing quickly in and out your parted lips matched the rapid gusts of wind whistling outside the window; you had perfected the art of silently crying just so that you wouldn't ruin Charles' needed rest time. As not to ruin his life completely, at least. So selfish to drag him down to your level just for your own benefit, when he could choose anyone else and live the fulfilling life he deserved. Stuck with you. What a senseless waste of time. You covered your mouth with your hand, eyes shut in pain.

«Hey…» Your breath hitched, not sure whether you had misheard him mumbling to you. As his loving and warm touch sparked on your skin through the gentle grab of his hands, drawing you near his chest, surrounding you and creating a shelter of comfort, your sob cut through the silence of the bedroom. He shushed you with tenderness, reaching over to your ear and carefully putting rebel strands of your hair in place, with soothing movements dictated by sleepiness. «It's okay.» You sobbed louder and tried to retrieve from his embrace at his words, knowing their falsehood, but Charles' arms didn't let you escape his nestle of care. «Whatever is the matter, we're going to solve it together.» He then left a kiss on your shaking shoulder. «I'm here for you, okay?» His fingers, spreading open on your stomach, felt like a caress to the soul. And though your head ached - from crying, from hurting, from the weight and the darkness of its content -, you couldn't help but notice the muscles of your body relaxing a bit into his hold. «I love you.» Another hot tear crossed your cheek, but at his words you smiled. You took the arm draping over you and placed it higher, so that it would wrap over yours, shielding you completely; Charles complied right away. «You're freezing cold… Want another cover?» While Charles was about to roll over to get out of bed and grab another blanket for you, you caught his arm, silently pleading him not to leave you. Reading your will, he engulfed you back again, fully, wholly, unconditionally, affectionately, holding you with nurturing sweetness, resting his head next to yours. «Let’s sleep.» Such a simple sentence, yet breaking your heart into more sobs. So many nights you had wished for peace to come quick, in various shapes and forms; what a relief, what a moving joy, what undeserved luck to have it, at last, in the purest of its manifestations. Love.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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[solani-ao3]

Silence of the Cell - excerpt

The door slammed open.

Harley flinched at the noise. His voice box let out a small, garbled noise of panic.

Leith was angry. Leith only ever came to visit him when he was angry.

He hoped it was blind angry. The kind where Leith came into the cell to beat him personally. The kind where he forgot Harley was not flesh and blood anymore, but metal and wires. It hurt less that way. One of the few benefits of this grotesque, robotic body he'd been put into. Leith's beatings hurt less than when he'd been human.

He hoped it was not controlled anger. The one where Leith used the console at his disposal to hurt him. Where he took his time dialing up the pain to unbearable levels, making Harley think he couldn't hurt any worse only to take the agony up another notch. Behind the console, Leith had all the power. Had direct access to Harley's nervous system, to his mind. Could hurt him so badly that Harley felt like he could die, wished he would die, but never did. Left to shriek and writhe and sob on the floor, his malfunctioning voice box emitting screams and desperate, unintelligible pleas for an end that Leith would never give him. Leith would never kill him. Even if he was a failure.

He hoped it wasn't one of those days.

It was.

When it was finally over he was a sobbing mess on the observation room floor. His entire body ached with the ghost of the agony he had just endured. He felt like dying. He wanted to die. He wanted all of this to be over for good.

Harley expected Leith to leave. Leith never lingered. He came, he vented his anger at him, and he left. Only to return the next time something set him off and he needed to hurt Harley to get his rage under control. He didn't expect the door to open instead. Didn't expect the sound of footsteps approaching him, or the soft hands that stroked down his arm, came to cradle the side of his screen.

“I'm sorry, Harley.” Leith whispered, and Harley couldn't stop himself from shuddering at the sound of that voice, no more than he could stop the soft whimper that escaped his malfunctioning voice box. “I had to hurt you. I've spoken to White this morning, and you know what he has told me? You're a lost cause. Your brain won't fully adapt to your new body. You won't regain your speech. You won't relearn how to write. He says it's a miracle you can even still understand spoken language! And all that wouldn't have mattered if we just had access to your mind. But alas, the damage is too great for our computers to be able to read your thoughts, to extract the information we need.”

Leith breathed a heavy sigh, thumb gently stroking over the edges of Harley's screen, making Harley reflexively shut his eye at the close touch.

“You know what he suggested? He said we should put you back on the operating table, Harley. He said we should put you out of your misery. We should strip you apart for parts, figure out what went wrong so we may avoid the same mistake in the future. You will never recover, you will never again be useful to us. He said our best course of action is to let you go like the rest of the failures.”

‘Please tell me you said yes,’ Harley thought, quaking beneath Leith's touch. ‘Please… I can't take it anymore… please tell me you're letting me go.’

Leith grinned, and Harley's nonexistent heart sank.

“I told him to go screw himself. You're mine, Harley. I was the one who brought you back to Playtime. I was the one who gave you your position of Head of Special Projects. I made you. Everything you've achieved is thanks to me. You owe everything to me. You belong to me. Did you really think I would let go of you so easily? Like Elliot had?” Leith laughed, an unpleasant, nauseating sound. Making Harley shudder and attempt to cringe away in revulsion. “Never.”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vampire Santino knows how to suck dick and blood. His little fangs yk yk yk >:]

Literally!! Okay, this is about to be VERY NSFW. There is no plot, let's just say.

Sources: One | Two | Three

CW: Dick biting. Yes, you heard me and I'll say it again. Dick biting!

The first time the famous Baba Yaga felt his lover's fangs brush tenderly over his cock, his mind went to some instinctual place of total, masochistic castration fear. Shit, he's going to bite my cock, that was the only thought, over and over again. Santino was nuzzling him open mouthed, licking and teasing before the act truly began. And he was splayed out under Santino, helpless, at risk of being impaled at any moment. He was all too happy to take that risk just so Santino could suck on him to his heart's content. His own heart raced with a delicious kind of terror that put all his attention on sensations. That little, cold sliver of polished bone sent him limp and lightheaded everywhere except the rock-hard limb it was caressing. He groaned, inarticulate, throwing back his head and feeling for once as if there was nothing he could do but surrender.

"Mmm...your thighs are shaking. Are you afraid of me, John? Can two tiny little teeth bring down the big bad assassin ?" And Santino took him into his mouth completely, and there were those fangs, pushing against either side of his shaft, their tips dangerously close to piercing him. John made a sound that was supposed to be words but wasn't, and restrained himself from twitching in response. One wrong move and he'd be skewered.

Santino's mouth pulled back with an obscene pop. "It won't hurt, you know. Fangs inject venom at the same time they're drawing blood. It acts on the nerves to numb pain while enhancing pleasure. That's why you came in your pants like a filthy slut last time I bit your neck," he said, and John stiffened even more at the memory. It had felt so good...he couldn't even bear to imagine how good that would feel right at the core of his pleasure.

Any rational part of his brain shut off and he found himself begging. "Please. Please, I want to try - I want - will you..."

"Words, John," Santino murmured against his cock, still nuzzling it somewhere between hunger and affection.

He swallowed, and forced them out. "Bite me."

"If you insist," and Santino's mouth went around John again, hot and sticky and taking him all the way to the throat. For a second, the fear became so intense that he felt like he was about to die for Santino, about to have a limb amputated, to be martyred. Then he felt the muscles of Santino's tongue brace against him in preparation, and he bit down, hard.

It felt impossible, like plucking the moon out of the sky just to take a bite out of it, or breathing underwater, or living after death. His dick was really being bitten into, devoured. It did not compute. Icy, unyielding shards parted the flesh and vein and he could feel them inside him. It felt like having Santino buried in his ass, pounding the sweet spot. So full. So punishing. So secure. ...So complete.

The venom just about short-circuited his brain. He couldn't see, or hear himself screaming in pleasure - although Santino never let him live that down afterwards. He thought he was going to black out, but instead he came almost instantaneously, blood mixing with semen as the two spilled down Santino's throat without stopping for what felt like eternity.

Santino dragged his way out, savoring everything, licking John clean despite the way he whined from overstimulation. He tsked. "And I barely even broke the skin."

Author's Note: I kind of think this is a good analogy for being fingered during oral... there's tongue action and then suddenly there's penetration too?? It takes things to another level ;)

[crazycurly-77]

The submarine -

Ch 2

Director Shepard looked at you seriously and said: “We have a problem.”

You didn't know what it was about and wondered whether you should even respond to her statement. But Gibbs made the decision for you and asked with his usual self-assurance: “What's up?”

“The SECNAV is pressing for an explanation as to why the new software for launching guided missiles from submarines is apparently not working, even though the tests so far have been successful. All missiles are missing their target or misfiring.”

You could only shrug your shoulders. “I’ve no idea why this is happening. Everything has been going correctly so far, but according to the protocols, someone is sabotaging the tests just before they are carried out. It is so short notice that it must be an insider who knows the exact time and can hack the program. He must be on board the submarine being tested on, because he logs into the system from there. But we don't know who or why, and we can't find out from here either."

That let Director Shepard sink in for a moment. Then she nodded and said: "Good, then you'll be boarded on the submarine."

Her words made cold sweat break out on your forehead and sheer horror was written all over your face.

"No. I'm not going on a submarine. Never. Forget it. Under no circumstances," you said vehemently and shook your head.

"But the program obviously has a malfunction that needs to be fixed, and McGee gets seasick at the sight of a glass of water. You wrote it with McGee's help. He can't. So you have to go on the boat and clarify the matter," argued Ma'am Director Jenny Shepard, trying to appeal to your reason.

Yes, her logic was compelling, but your claustrophobia was stronger.

You were on the verge of a panic attack and your hair stood on end as you stood in front of her desk, shaking your head the whole time. Slowly you started to take small steps backwards and started to shake.

Gibbs sensed that you were panicking and he suspected that he knew the reason for it and decided to help you.

You had a good relationship with each other. Even if he didn't like that he couldn't reach you.

He was more worried about you than the others.

Why? He had never asked himself that. It was just like that.

Then you felt it. Your boss Leroy Jethro Gibbs, who stood next to you like a rock in the surf, took your hand to calm you down.

He stood there by your side. He didn't move an inch, didn't sway in the slightest and you held his hand as if your life depended on it.

"There is no one with your knowledge of this system. Please, you have to go,” Jenny finally begged you.

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t do that,” you said firmly. Your brain shut down and your body prepared to flee. Everything in you resisted and only one word dominated your thoughts: “No. No! NO!!!”

“Okay, then I’ll make it an order. You will leave in an hour,” the director finally decided in a final tone that said the conversation was over for her.

Your blood froze in panic and your body went stiff.

“Then please shoot me. That’s much more merciful than forcing me to do it,” you said, staring into her eyes.

At this point in the conversation, Gibbs spoke up in a firm tone:

“No, we won’t do that. But to strengthen your position on board and give you the support of a male colleague, I’m coming with you. I don’t want to leave you alone and unprotected, surrounded only by men. We can also find out together who the saboteur is," he explained, but left no room for argument.

She briefly looked at your joined hands with interest and then looked up at you two. 

"Good, let's do it," the director concluded. "You two go home and pack your things. Your flight leaves in an hour. You can go now."

With that, she turned to her computer and Jethro tried to pull you towards the door. At first you were rooted to the spot, but then he pulled firmly on your hand, which he was still holding, so that you followed him out of the room.

He closed the door to Jenny's office, wrapped his arms around you, rubbed your back up and down and whispered calming words in your ear.

Panicked and still shaking, you clung to him.

"It's okay. I'm here and I won't let you down," he whispered.

"Just breathe. In and out. In and out. Breathe with me. In and out," he said.

You did what he told you and your shaking slowly subsided.

(To be continued...in Chapter 3)

-------------------------------------------

Here you will find the other chapters of this story

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[pupyuj]

secretary gaeul. oh my god.

may you forever be known as the anon who got pupyuj's brain working again...

oh my god, indeed 😵‍💫 secretary!gaeul knows exactly zero boundaries and does not give a fuck about whether or not she will get in trouble for all the things she's doing to you 🤤🤤 she would be so annoying... but let's bring it back! BACKSTORY TIME 👹👹

it all started during the secretary hiring process.. you being you (aka gay as fuck), you were enamoured by gaeul. she was confident, she was intelligent, she was beautiful, she had years of experience to back up said confidence, she was beautiful... but you already said that. and then gaeul being gaeul, she knew exactly what you were thinking 🤭 had you been a man, she would have walked right out of that ginormous office of yours bcs the way your eyes raked her figure up and down was a borderline criminal offense, but you were a cute, sweet, and soft-spoken woman — so of course gaeul made sure she would get the job on the spot 😉 and she did! not only was gaeul beyond perfect for the job, you also wanted to fuck her so there was rlly only one decision to come to when the interview ended ☺️

gaeul took it easy for the first few months. she never made a move, but she did let you ogle at her fine ass as much as you liked bcs she knew it motivated you to get through the day 😭😭 but she would still have like, three of her buttons open on her shirt and wear her skirt a bit higher than what was allowed,,, nobody says anything bcs she's your secretary and they too look at her inappropriately anyway 💀 the only difference is that she allows you, she sends death glares at anybody else who dares to scan her body 😤😤

anyway, gaeul starts coming onto you on a random but very stressful day.. finishing your 6th conference call of the day and feeling like laying on your office couch and rot away, but you still had a job to do so you forced yourself to stay seated on your chair and tap away on your computer,,, then here comes gaeul putting down a cup of coffee on your table, saying something about how you should take a break but you kindly refused her and thanked her for the coffee,, her suddenly taking your jaw in her hand and lifting your head up????? and your brain completely shutting off bcs holy shit did she look even more beautiful up close like this,,, "you're exhausted, ma'am. a few minutes of getting up and walking around won't hurt." she was saying, but you couldn't focus w the way she stared you down like she was about to eat you, and the way her thumb ran across your bottom lip,,

and everything started from there! trust that secretary!gaeul absolutely loves torturing you,, either by wearing her outfits in appropriately, as mentioned before, or by touching you,, running her hand across your back while you're showing her some things on your computer, not-so-discreetly putting her hand on your thigh when you're seated at the couch together discussing things, pressing up against you way too much in the elevator... gaeul knew you were hopeless bcs you wouldn't try to jeopardize your career by trying to fuck your own secretary but see, gaeul did not give a fuck about any of that at all.. so she took it upon herself! 🤭

coming into your office with a mission one day, shaking her head at the sight of you staring blankly at the succulent she bought for you a while ago (she thought it would ease you),, staring blankly bcs you have once again managed to get hundreds of tasks done in record time but now you felt like death,,, "ma'am, you don't have any scheduled meetings for the rest of the morning. you should take a break." gaeul asked, loosening up her necktie, eyes shining with mischief while you massaged your temples, blissfully unaware of the primal look in your secretary's eyes,, "i'm good, gaeul. i still need to take care of a few things here." you sighed, sitting up properly once again and putting your hands on your keyboard,, but gaeul doesn't let you do anything else before she spins your chair to the side, facing her.. stylish blazer off, necktie loose, shirt unbuttoned halfway and oh god she wasn't wearing a bra?!!

"i wasn't really asking," gaeul sitting on your lap and pressing her bare, dripping pussy against your thigh 😵‍💫😵‍💫 then she was grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, only getting herself wetter at the sight of your terrified but tremendously turned on expression... "it'll be worth neglecting a few stupid tasks, trust me." and then she's kissing you 😳 roughly too—biting your lips, tongue all over your mouth, and her hands around your neck pulling you closer—and moans when you pull her skirt up to her waist and grip her ass tightly bcs finally she gets to be fucked by her incredibly cute boss!!!

omgomg putting gaeul on top of your desk.. her legs spread wide open while you're destroying her cunt with your fingers,, and she's moaning like crazy, no doubt some employees walking nearby could hear her 😭 you were completely entranced with the way her pussy sucked your fingers in, and she was surprisingly tight for a fucking slut.. you couldn't resist grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, only fucking her in a more ruthless pace than before and making her bite onto your shoulder and grip your wrist tightly... but she wasn't trying to stop you—fuck, she loved the fact that she was being heard throughout the entire fucking floor. she would gladly let you fuck her in a meeting full of other employees if she had that chance! all she ever wanted to be paraded around like the whore that she was by you, so ofc she was going to be as loud as she wants.. and it looked like she you didn't care about her volume anyway, not with the way you were so focused on trying to fuck her stupid...

didn't take long for her to fall apart on your fingers,, coming undone with a squeak, drenching your hand and your desk with her juices and being so fucking proud of it that she grins at the sight of her own cum coating your fingers... sick, sick woman 😵‍💫😵‍💫 but see, you weren't satisfied... now that you had a taste of what gaeul was really like, you can succumb to your temptations and fuck her like you never have before...

"ma'am.. wear this." gaeul says as she opens one of the drawers on your desk and pulled out a thick strap-on. you really don't know how the fuck she got that in there when you were practically glued to your desk, but you didn't care anymore.

mmdfmfdhdj bending gaeul over your desk, pinning both of her wrists above her head with one hand, holding her ass still with the other as you pounded your strap mercilessly inside her walls fuuck 😵‍💫 and gaeul was screaming at this point.. your name, "mommy" which drove you crazy and made you hold her ass with both your hands and ruin her even more 🤭 gaeul was holding onto the edges of the desk for dear life, and fuck she was in heaven... being fucked so good that she was close to blanking out, babbling nonsense as she moans helplessly like a stupid slut, agreeing with whatever you fucking asked her...

"i-i-i'll be a good whore, m-mommy—aghh...! mhmm.. fuck, more.. more...!! this pussy i-is all yours.. ahh..! use me, do whatever you want with me when you need m-me... i p-promise i'll let you fuck me whenever..."

gaeul fucking knew that you had fire in you, but the way you made her feel was so beyond her expectations that she was almost overwhelmed with how strong her orgasm hit her,, gasping for air as she came for the second time, digging her nails on your desk, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head bcs holy shit did you know how to fuck a girl to insanity...

immediately taking off the strap and scooping her arms in your arms,, settling her on your lap and hugging her,, apologizing if you were too rough but gaeul just waves her hand and tells you that it's okay and you should definitely do it again... skhncdchs she would absolutely let you suck on her tits and mark her skin up while the two of you sat there.. maybe she'll even let you fuck her again later, but you did ruin her too good.. no doubt she'll be walking weird if she ever decides to do her daily rounds around the office.. but only if she manages pull herself off your addicting fingers 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[patscorner]

SILVER LININGS PART1

Summary: Amari Hansley and her twin brother, Anthony Hansley's friendship with the Sturniolos is stronger than ever. But what happens when tragedy strikes Mari's household, and causes emotions to rise, as well as feelings for one of her closest friends?

TW: mentions of a hospital, mentions of death, mentions of depression, mentions of panic attacks, and anxiety. Nothing too much, no depictions, just implications. Not bad, it's only the beginning 🙃

______________________________

"Anthony, put some pep in your fucking step, Jesus. We're gonna be late." Amari yelled from downstairs. It was already 7, school started in 30 minutes, and it was a 25-minute drive. They were gonna need to stop by the office for a tardy slip.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm moving as fast as I fucking can." Anthony shouted back, as he stuffed his computer into his backpack.

"Why are you guys yelling? Your mom is asleep." Mr. Hansley spoke softly as Anthony ran down the stairs.

"How is she doing today, Dad?" Anthony asked as he bent down and tied his shoes, grumbling as he fucked up the first knot.

Mr. Hansely sighed. "Not too bad. She's doing better."

For some background, Mrs. Hansley has Huntington's disease, which is when nerve cells in the brain start to break down. It's a progressive disease, and while it was slow at first, it escalated quickly. She and her husband told the twins about a year ago, and they were heartbroken. While she could undergo treatment to slow it, it was incurable, especially because they caught it too late.

As if that wasn't enough, their dad seemed to take it the hardest, even while they were all struggling. He felt like he was nothing without his partner in crime, and the thought of her not being there with him scared him so much.

He'd stopped going to work, forcing Anthony and Amari to get jobs so they could take care of the house and food, and he'd get unemployment money to pay for the hospital bills. They were 16.

Over the weeks, Mr. Hansley spent most of his time at the hospital, staying with his wife. He didn't eat unless the twins forced him to. And he didn't shower until he was forced out by the nurses. Their grandfather helped out a little, but not much as he lived two hours away.

Meanwhile, Amari, who was the oldest of the two, drove her and her brother back and forth from the Sturniolos. She thought it'd be better not to let Anthony shut everyone else out. He never failed to shut everyone out during an episode after seeing his mom. He'd lock himself in his room, and he wouldn't eat, drink, or shower. He'd get all in his head, and he'd let his thoughts take over.

It was either that, or he'd take it out on Amari. She was the only other person he could. He was angry. Angry with his dad, for forgetting about his kids, angry with his mom, for leaving, even if it wasn't her fault. He was never angry with Amari. There was just nobody else he could yell at, so it was often misdirected. He knew she tried so hard to be strong for him. Even though they were only 4 minutes apart, he looked up to her. She was his rock, kept him grounded when he needed, often pushing her problems and feelings aside for his.

Amari, on the other hand, was struggling just as much as Anthony. She couldn't count how many times she'd cried herself to sleep because even though she and Anthony were the same age, she was still the big sister. She was the backbone, the one who kept it all together. She'd bottle up everything, then every once in a while, she'd fall apart in her bathroom at 2am.

Amari's schedule was always full. She went to school, then immediately after went to work for eight hours, then spent the rest of her time at the hospital. On her off days, she spent it with Matthew Sturniolo. Her best friend, or one of them. Matt had two brothers, and they were triplets, so they were a package deal.

Chris, the youngest of the three, was Anthony's best friend. He kept Anthony grounded as well, calling him out for the stupid shit he'd do and say to Amari, but he was also one of his biggest supporters.

Amari was closest with Matt and Nick. They'd walked up to her one day in 5th grade, asking her for a pencil in sync, and they've all been friends every since.

Even though she was friends with all of them, she and Matt instantly clicked. They went everywhere together, and they told each other everything. They had so much in common, anxiety, love for nature, their style, their music taste, and their humor. They actually let each other speak, unlike Nick and Chris.

And that's how it was for years. Matt and Amari, Anthony and Chris, and Nick. Even though some were closer than others, they made sure to make sure Nick was never left out. He distanced himself, but that all changed when he came out.

So then things went back to normal, and Matt and Amari were still best friends, 6 years later. So during her panic attacks, she'd call Matt, who talked her through them. Since he related to how scary and uncomfortable they were, it was easy for him to tell her what helped him. Mostly, he could do it through the phone, but sometimes, he'd have to drive to the house and call up Anthony to unlock the front door.

They never had to worry about Mr. Hansley finding out because he spent most of his nights at the hospital with his dying wife.

Since Mrs. Hansley was improving, according to the doctor, she was able to come home for a little bit. "Let's go say goodbye." Amari sighed, reaching for Anthony's hand, helping him up.

"Just... be quiet and quick... please." Mr. Hansley spoke quickly, fiddling with his fingers. All this sickness made him so anxious and quite jumpy.

Amari nodded, leading Anthony to the guest, which is where her mother stayed, because she couldn't really make it up the stairs. Amari slowly opened the door, the smell of the hospital must've came with all the equipment.

There, her mother lay, hooked up to NG tube and a heart rate monitor. She was asleep, and soft snores could be heard leaving her mouth.

Anthony looked down, fighting the instant tears that filled his eyes when he saw his mom. Amari reached for his hand, rubbing his knuckles almost instantly.

"Come on, you can do it." She whispered, leading Anthony to Mrs. Hansley. He complied, slowly following his older sister.

"Hey Mom, we love you. We'll see you after school." Amari spoke softly, not wanting to wake her. Anthony nodded. "Love you, Mom." He voice cracking as tears threatened to fall.

He reached for his mom's hand, rubbing her knuckles gently. She stayed asleep, and he smiled at her peaceful state. At least she wasn't in pain.

"Okay, we gotta go. We're gonna be late." Amari spoke, rubbing Anthony's shoulder.

"We're always late." He grumbled as he walked towards the door.

Amari chuckled as she closed the door behind her. "I know, but come on."

And with that, the twins walked out of the house and began their day. They had most of their classes together, except for one: World History.

Amari had every class with either Matt, Nick, or Chris, so she was always with one of her best friends. There were other people too, but they weren't nearly as close as the Sturniolo and the Hansley's were.

As the day progressed, Amari felt a sudden wave of anxiety come over her, just after lunch. She walked into the World History classroom, trying to pinpoint where the emotion stemmed from.

"Hey bitch, so you remember that guy I was talking too? Yeah, he asked me on a date -" Nick sat down next to Amari, immediately rambling about some guy who wasn't good enough for him.

Amari nodded along, not really listening, just trying to figure out where the daunting fear came from. Her leg bounced as her thoughts raced. She was terrified, and she didn't know why.

She was consumed in her thoughts that she didn't even notice that Matt came in and sat down next to her. She only noticed when he put his hand in her bouncing thigh. Butterflies brushed her thoughts to the side, and her face instantly turned red.

"Hey, Mari, did you hear me?" Matt asked softly. She looked up, finally being pulled from her thoughts.

She looked at Nick, who was staring at her. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, not hearing a single thing that was going on.

"No, I didn't, sorry. What'd you say?" She said, quickly.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked, his blue eyes trained on her brown ones. Mari nodded, trying to convince herself as well.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm good, sorry. What were you saying, Nick?" She turned to Nick, who smiled, continuing his rant.

She glanced at Matt, who was looking at her with worry, unconvinced at her answer. It was foolish from Amari to think she could lie to him. He knew her better than he knew himself. She was his best friend.

The bell rang, and the class continued as normal, the teacher asking for everyone's homework and then writing notes on the board.

Suddenly, the loud speaker clicked on, and a voice rang through.

"Can Amari and Anthony Hansley please gather your things and report to the office? That's Amari and Anthony Hansley. Please get your things and report to the front office." And with that, the speaker clicked off.

Matt, Nick, and as well as everyone else's eyes turned to Mari, causing her to feel uncomfortable. "What'd you do?" Matt asked, half-jokingly.

She shrugged as she packed her bag, her hands shaking as her anxiety spiked once more. Nick and Matt sent her a 'good luck' look, and she sent them a small smile.

She said her goodbyes before walking to the office, her heart dropping as she saw her grandfather and her brother waiting for her.

"No." Was all she could say, as she followed them out.

______________________________

[in-ghost-we-trust]

No dew on the morning grass

Chapter 2

Dewdrop x reader

Rain x reader???

A rewrite of twilight new moon

When dew left you crumbled into pieces, you've blocked out everyone

Rain = jacob???

Swiss = mike???

Also so very sorry this is so bad I'm on my phone not my computer, I haven't used my phone to post somthing on tumblr in years and I've completely forgot how to find bold and italics so pleaseeee don't judge I'm working with what I got

You haven't left your room in days, why should you? He's left and there's nothing else for you out of this room. When you do let yourself think, you realize that it sounds mean seeing how you have the rest of your friends, rain primaril. He was your best friend since he was summoned, you"ve been to peas in a pod ever since.

The first couple of days you didn't leave your room, he'd tried and tried to get in or you to come out, just anything, somthing. After you never did he would sit outside your door and tell you about his day, any stunts swiss pulled, mountains new flower beds for spring. He'd never get a reply but he could hear you shuffle out of bed to sit on the other side of the door, head pressed to the cool wood. You listened to him, took everything in. Anything he told you, you'd think about it when your mind wasnt on dew. As much as you wanted to open up that door and see rain, as much as you wanted his embrace, his familiar face, his safety, you couldn't bring yourself to open it. Your room was your salvation, no questions, no looks, you could just sleep, forget or dive into your grief, make yourself feel all the pain again and again. The pain was the only reminder that he was real, when mountain brought you back the pictures you had hanging from a line of fairy lights were gone, the blanket he got you for Christmas? Gone. All the shells he had dived into the lake by the abbey for you? Gone. It was as if wherever he had gone he had tied strings to anything that would directly remind you of him and tied them to himself and walked away.

You were in your bed when you heard it, the lock of your door being wiggled and a soft click, you weren't facing the door, you couldn't see who was comming in. Did you even want to look? You shut your eyes praying whoever this was would think you were asleep. A soft creak at the end of your bed sent a shiver down your spine, it didn't cross your mind it might be a creep or a werido until then. Staying still you heard soft foot steps and some rustling next to you. Your bed was about four feet from the window, you and dew had picked out a rocking chair when you both decided which one of your rooms to stay in when you became a couple. You hear it quietly creak like someone was sitting in it and rocking back and forth. A hand brushed stray pieces of hair away from your forehead, you fought the instinct to shoot your eyes open. The hand was cool and remind you of the smoothness of a rock. The hand left your skin and footsteps lead to the bathroom, the sound of water and more creaks towards you sounded in your ears. Your arm is lifted and a cold rag ran over it, you haven't even noticed you were burning hot, the rag moved to your other arm and the sheets you had covering you were moved away and you could feel the coolness of water run over your legs and stop just above your knee, at least whoever this is, is respectful. You heard a little drip drop of water and felt wetness on your face, gentle and safe, like you would wash a small child after they fell off their bike in the mud. It leaves your face and you don't feel anything else until a small part of your hair is moved, like someone trying to play with it. The rocking chair creeks and sounds like it is being pulled closer to the bed more than the window. You buck up enough to open your eye enough to look asleep and to see whoever it was.

Rain sat there looking at you, fingers fidgeting with the tips of your hair. You shut your one eye again. You relax a little bit but your brain starts to wonder. How long has he been doing this? How did you never notice? You decide to flip on your stomach to face him more, you feel his hands snatch away and a sharp intake of breath. You pretend to mumble somthing. You hear a shaky exhale and him starting to talk "I couldn't sleep again, swiss thinks it's werid for me to be here but I have to know your okay, I miss you so much ______ I mean everyone does but everyone has someone else" your stomach drops "cumulus and cirrus and sunshine, aether and swiss, mountains always been more to himself but me? I don't have you anymore" you feel like crying, you've been so caught up with your own heartache you've caused one "whenever you're okay and come back, I'll be there, as much as you need me" thank satan you had your eyes closed because if not tears would have been running down your face. You don't know what to do, you feel you have to do somthing. You "mumble" in your "sleep" again and stretch a arm out from under your head and let it flop on the arm of the rocking chair. You feel his hand take yours, it was a awkward angle but it was nice to feel his skin on your own. "I miss you so much _____" he whispers and traces your hand with his index finger. You actually do start to fall asleep with his voice as a lullaby. When you wake he's not there, your door is locked and there's no rag by your bed, no water, the rocking chair back in its spot. No evidence of him, just like dew.

Thanks to @the-fem1n1ne-urge for commenting, it really gave me motivation to write

Also sorry for no word count I'm writing this in tumblr and not my normal word docs

[fallingblueroses]

Part 4 of the Panic! story.

***

Layne sat in the passenger seat as Cyndi drove him to PattyCake Productions. She'd wanted him to stay home and rest, but his mind was his own worst enemy. PattyCake would have to shut down for a bit, and there were phone calls to be made...and he wanted to go back inside while he still had the nerve.

His mind kept replaying everything. Eli had left to get coffee, and when he hadn't come back Geoff had gone to get him. Earl had wandered off somewhere. Layne had heard J groan behind him, and when he turned around he'd come face to face with Tony. Tony had swung a baseball bat at Layne's head, but Layne had brought his arms up. He could still hear his forearm bones breaking as the bat had made contact. He'd screamed and doubled over in pain, and then Tony had brought the bat down on his head.

His heart hurt as much as his head and arm as he looked out the car window and remembered waking up in the darkness and hearing Geoff begging for their lives. He still couldn't believe Geoff had had the guts to try to run away with the bomb.

"I have to get it outside!"

He still couldn't believe Tony had betrayed them all.

"They deserve it."

He could barely believe it had all happened just yesterday.

The police hadn't found Geoff's body but Layne was quickly losing any hope he might have had. Even if by some miracle Geoff wasn't hurt he was still with Tony, and Tony had lost his mind. It was difficult to say "No, Tony wouldn't do that" considering what he'd already done, and Layne's imagination was running wild.

Cyndi pulled into PattyCake's parking lot and brought the car to a sudden stop. Layne blinked, jolted out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"Look." She pointed.

Layne's eyes went wide. Tony's car was in the lot. Rage flooded his veins, and he began to get out of the car.

Cyndi grabbed his sleeve. "Layne, no! We need to call the police!"

He knew she was right. He was injured, and who knew if Tony was armed or not. But he wanted to wrap his hands around Tony's throat and demand explanations, demand to know where Geoff was, or just watch as Tony passed out..."Call them."

Cyndi did, and Layne got out of the car and looked at the building. The lights were off and the "Closed" sign was on the door. Everything looked to be in order. He considered calling the others, but held back. Maybe later once he had something to tell them.

Cyndi came up and held his good hand. He kept his eyes on the door until the police arrived, but Tony didn't appear. One of the officers told Layne and Cyndi to remain outside before joining her partner. They checked the inside of Tony's car first, and then Layne unlocked the door and let them in.

Finally the officer who had spoken to them came back out. "It's clear. You can go inside." She paused. "The place is torn up. You should brace yourselves."

Layne stared at Tony's car for a moment--he must be driving something else. Now we don't even know what to look for.--then went inside. The lobby appeared fine, then he noticed the cutout of Jessica Rabbit--their mascot--had been beaten to a crumpled heap. His stomach sank as they went through the studio. Paint splattered over the walls and floors. Windows shattered. Desk drawers yanked out and the contents flung everywhere. Their work computers smashed. Blood on the floor showing where Tony had attacked each of them. Not much at any one place. But blood all the same.

Ruined. The word stumbled around Layne's brain, mixing his thoughts and numbing his emotions. He finally sank to his knees beside the blood spots near the breakroom. We're ruined. He felt Cyndi's hand on his shoulder as he stared at the dried blood. The spots blurred as tears began to fall. "How could he do this...why did he do this..."

Cyndi kneeled next to him and held him. He leaned into her and cried. "It doesn't make sense. He was our friend. We trusted him." The dam crumbled, and Layne sobbed into Cyndi's shoulder. "He tried to kill us. He's taken my best friend. He's destroyed PattyCake. Ruined. It's all fucking ruined...everything's ruined..."

Cyndi held him and let him cry. The storm subsided, and he lay against Cyndi for a couple of minutes. The rage began to creep back in his mind, and he got his phone out. It was probably useless, but he was going to call Tony.

***

Tony rubbed his eyes as he drove along the highway. He'd been driving for hours, stopping only once for gas and food, and was now deep into Mississippi, almost to Louisiana. He'd relaxed once he'd crossed the Florida border. He doubted the other state cops would bother him as long as he didn't violate any traffic laws.

Geoff was laying in the horse trailer. Tony had stolen pillows and blankets from the hotel they'd stayed at to make him somewhat more comfortable. He'd managed to get Geoff to eat a few bites of food and drink some water, but he'd passed out again immediately after.

He jumped when Layne's ringtone went off. He ignored it, but then Layne called again. A sigh escaped him as he pulled his phone out and put it on speaker. "...Hello, Layne."

"Tony. You son of a bitch."

He heard himself laugh, and when he glanced over to the passenger seat his double was sitting there. "Layne sounds pissed. There's something new."

Layne went on. "Where are you?!"

"None of your business," Tony said evenly as the pressure in his head began to build.

"Where's Geoff?"

"Sleeping."

The double tsked. "Well, you're not wrong."

Layne's angry voice came over the phone. "I want to talk to him."

"No. I'm not waking him up."

"You can't wake him up," the double reminded him.

Tony's nerves snapped as a dart of pain went through his temples. "Shut up!"

"Let me talk to him!" Layne almost screamed.

Tony realized Layne thought that last comment was directed to Geoff. "He couldn't talk to you even if he was awake."

Layne's voice dropped to a whisper. "...Why not."

The double laughed. "Go ahead. Tell him."

"Why not?!" Layne demanded.

"Because he's deaf now!" Tony snapped. "He's deaf, he's blind, he's burned. He passed out hours ago." He glared briefly at his double. "There, is that what you wanted me to say? Are you happy now?"

The double grinned. "Estatic. Although I doubt Layne's happy."

"My God." Layne's voice dropped again. "Tony, you have to get him to a hospital."

"Might already be too late," the double taunted him.

"You listen to me," Layne said coldly when Tony didn't answer. "If he dies...if you let him die...I don't give a damn what happens with the cops and the courts. If he dies, I'll hunt you down. I don't give a damn if you go all the way to Antarctica. I'll find you and I'll make you pay for what you've done, you hear me?"

Tony hung up, and the double laughed softly. "Well, what do you do now? Layne's right. Geoff won't last much longer. The way he's being jostled around in that trailer. Not to mention the heat. His burns are probably getting infected too." Tony was silent, and the double went on. "Once you drop him off, the pressure will be off you. Why do the cops ever pursue a kidnapper? To get the victim back. Once the victim is found they lose interest."

Once again the double was right. Tony didn't say anything, but looked at the road signs as he drove along. He followed blue hospital signs off of the highway and into a town. Once he was in front of a set of emergency room doors he got out of the truck, unhitched the trailer, then got back into the truck and drove off. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see a curious passerby already heading for the trailer.

His double smiled. "Well. You finally did something right."

He glanced over. "I've done everything you wanted."

"You did what you wanted to do. You're the one who decided to kill VoicePlay. You're the one who decided to take Geoff. I just gave you suggestions."

Tony sighed as the pain increased. "What do I have to do to get rid of you."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me," the double said as he patted Tony's shoulder. "It's just the two of us now."

Tony resisted the urge to drive into a utility pole as he pulled back onto the highway. He'd drive for a few more hours, then stop to rest and eat again. At the moment he didn't care if the police caught him. A bullet to the head might actually be a relief.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Iron Man 3: Part One

Pairing: No Pairing (Implicit Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader and Loki x Female!Reader)

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Tony's past is catching up to him, causing all sorts of problems for not only him but or the people he loves and cares for. Aldrich Killian is back and he is back with a vengeance after one meeting goes wrong. You don't know what he is part of or how Tony is involved but you do know one thing: he messed with your friend, and you don't take that lightly. Now it's up to you and Tony to bring down a world terrorist before he can do any more harm.

Warnings: canon violence and angst

MCU Rewrite Masterlist

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Back in 1999 when Tony wasn't tethered down to anyone, he loved going to parties and dragging Happy along with him. If there was alcohol and women, Tony was there. Everyone didn't think the world would make it to 2000 so the party being thrown is one of the biggest Switzerland has ever seen. Tony loved a good party but there was another motive for coming here.

There was a woman, Maya Hansen, who had research that immediately grabbed Tony's attention. She calls it the Extremist Program. It's a form of genetic manipulation that can help a person self-heal, to completely rewrite their DNA to better themselves. Maya knew he was interested in seeing her research, so she didn't waste time trying to get him on board.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Uh, to town on each other, probably back in your room. I also wanna see your research."

"Okay, you can see my research, but that's... I'm not gonna show you my 'town'."

They got on the elevator that would take them away from the party when a man with long blond hair rushed to them.

"Mr. Stark!" The man leaned on his cane since he had a bad leg, and he grinned at Tony. "Oh, wow! Hey, Tony! Aldrich Killian." He noticed Maya. "I'm a big fan of your work!"

"My work?"

"Who isn't? He means me," Tony shrugged.

"Well, of course, but, Miss Hansen, my organization has been tracking your research since year two of MIT."

He tried to get on when Happy stopped him.

"Yeah, we're full."

Happy put his arm up to prevent Killian from entering the elevator, but the man ducked underneath and slipped inside.

"Oh, wow. He made it. He made the cut," Tony chuckled.

"What floor are you going to, pal?" Happy gritted out.

"Oh, now, that is an appropriate question. The ground floor, actually. I've got a proposal I'm putting together with myself. It's a privately-funded think tank called, Advanced Idea Mechanics or AIM for short." He took out a business card and handed it to Maya. He pointed to the logo on his shirt. "Do you get it?"

"I see that because it's on your t-shirt."

The elevator stopped and everyone filtered out of it.

"Thank you, I'll call you," Maya said.

Just before Killian could leave the elevator, Tony put up an arm to stop him.

"I'm titillated by the notion of working with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, cheese clown. I'll see you up on the roof in five minutes. I'm just going to try to get my beef wet real quick." Tony winks. "You know what I'm talkin' about?"

"I'll see you up there," Killian smiled widely.

Tony and Happy followed Maya to her apartment. It was a normal apartment with a ton of research just lying about. Once Maya got to talking, she couldn't shut up about her revolutionary idea. She showed Tony the research on her computer, everything she had gathered about the topic.

"Come on! I thought that was just a theory," Tony chuckled.

"Well, it was. If I'm right, we can access the area of the brain that governs repair and chemically recode it. This is revolutionary."

"That's incredible. You're essentially hacking into the genetic operating system of a living organism. Wow."

Maya looked over his shoulder and tensed when she saw Happy touching one of her plants.

"Can you not touch my plant? It's not... She doesn't like it."

"Happy, leave her ficus alone." Tony followed Maya into her bedroom where there was more research. "You're starting with plants?"

"For now, yeah. I'm calling it Extremist. Well, it's human application. Dendritic revitalization, disease prevention, and even limb regrowth."

"You're the most gifted woman I've ever met," Tony grinned. "In Switzerland... This week." Tony and Maya laughed at his joke. "You almost bought it, didn't you?"

She backed Tony up to the bed and he flopped down on it. She crawled over him and kissed him. Suddenly, there was an explosion followed by glass shattering in the living room, and she rolled off Tony with a sigh.

"This is what I'm talking about, the glitch."

"Have you checked the telomerase algorithm?"

"The what?"

Just then, Happy ran into the room and tackled Tony onto the bed. He was taking his poison as his security too far.

"Down! Stay down! Stay down, boss."

"We're good. You're... You're right right on me. I made it." Happy got up. "What the hell was that?"

"It's a glitch in my work," Maya sighed. "I'm working on it."

That night, Tony left her room after a night of passion, leaving her a note to read in the morning. He never returned and refused to be part of the party scene, especially after being kidnapped and forced to build a bomb in an Afghan cave. Now, Tony is focused on Pepper and his suits, of which he wanted to show you.

He took you all the way to Malibu to his home to show you the revolutionary suits he made. Since you two last got together, he's made so many more suits. You guess being traumatized by aliens from space got to his head. His lab has a display for some of the suits he's built, all proudly standing to attention. His lab is a mess (no surprise there) and Dum-E is sweeping the floor with a DUNCE cap on his head.

Nothing has changed since that fateful day yet everything has changed.

"Wow, you've been busy," you comment.

"I have." Tony walks over to his desk and sits. "So have you."

"Probably not as much as you. So, what did you want to show me?" Tony grabs a thick syringe and starts injecting something into his arm. "Hi, Jarvis."

"Welcome back. You certainly know how to stay out of the news."

"Tony, have you been teaching him sarcasm?" you laugh.

Tony injects himself again and yelps in pain. "Ow!"

"Sir, please may I request just a few hours to calibrate--"

"No." He injects himself two more times before wiping the blood from his arm. "Micro-repeater implanting sequence complete."

"As you wish, sir. I've also prepared a safety briefing for you to entirely ignore."

"Which I will. Right. Let's do this. Y/N, you're going to love this." Tony gets hyped up by punching his fists in the air. "Dum-E." The robot looks at Tony. "Hi, Dum-E. How did you get that cap on your head? You earned it. You know what you did. Blood on my mat, handle it."

"I see you're still treating him the same," you shake your head.

"Like I said, he deserves it."

"Sir, may I remind you that you've been awake for nearly seventy-two hours."

"Tony! Why aren't you sleeping?"

He doesn't answer you. He looks at the suits in their glass displays. "Good evening, and welcome to the birthing suite. I'm pleased to announce the imminent arrival of your bouncing, bad-ass, baby brother."

"You made another suit?"

"You're going to love it. You might want to take a few steps back."

You do as you're told and watch as Jarvis controls a camera to record this session. It reminds you of when he was creating the very first Iron Man suit and wanted to document it all.

"Start tight and go wide, stamp in time," Tony instructs Jarvis. "Mark 42 autonomous prehensile propulsion suit test. Initialize sequence. Jarvis, drop my needle."

Music starts playing from the record player in the corner. Funky Christmas music. The lyrics from Jingle Bells remind you of the very few Christmases you've celebrated over the centuries. You're not religious nor do you celebrate religious holidays, but there was a time when you were with Ikaris in London. Christmas wasn't a known holiday but there was this small town where everyone celebrated it.

It was nice to be part of it even if it was fleeting.

The most memorable Christmas was every one spent with Bucky in the 30s. You're a living, walking reminder of the Old World, and you can't even tell anyone. You've thought about going to researchers and historians and talking to them about the Old World, but you'd get treated like a project rather than a person.

No, those times are best left in your memories.

Tony's left hand closes into a fist by his head and his right hand is outstretched in front of him, palm up. There are parts of what looks like an unfinished Iron Man suit on the table across the room, but nothing happens. Tony looks defeated but he won't give up. He cracks his neck before doing the same position.

Again, nothing happens.

"Shit," Tony mutters.

He starts biting his arm in the same place where he injected himself, trying to get whatever it is working. When he resumes the position again, one of the pieces on the table jump-starts to life. It lifts into the air and shoots at Tony, latching onto his hand. Two more pieces fly at Tony and latch onto his upper arm and shoulder. He points his left hand, palm up, at another table and another piece flies at him and sticks to his hand.

"Wow. Very impressive," you nod. "Such a good use of your billions."

"Just wait," Tony winks. "Alright, Jarvis, I think I got this. Send 'em all."

One after another, pieces of his suit fly at him. He lifts his leg so that the piece can attach correctly, moving so that he can catch all the pieces of his suit. The moment is short-lived when a piece goes flying at his head. He deflects it from his arm piece and it shatters one of the suit displays.

"Probably a little fast, slow it down. Slow it down just a..." Another one flies at his head and he has to duck or else it would have smacked him in the face. "...little bit."

"Should I be doing anything?" you ask, a bit worried now.

"No, I got it." A few more parts fly over and attach themselves with force to Tony's back and crotch area. "Cool it, will you, Jarvis?"

All of the pieces are on Tony's body except for the face plate. No, that one is hovering in mid-air as if challenging him.

"Come on. I ain't scared of you." The faceplate starts flying over to Tony but hits the corner of the table, causing it to flip upside down. Just as it's approaching Tony, he does a back flip and catches the faceplate on his face. He lands in a superhero pose with his fist on the platform he is standing on. "I'm the best."

"Wow." You clap slowly and walk closer to him. "Very well done. You brought me all the way from Greenwich to show me this. What does Pepper think about all this?"

Before Tony can answer, a spare piece smacks into Tony, causing him to fall to the ground. All the pieces of the suit shatter around him, and you can't help the laughter from coming out.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Tony groans.

"As always, sir, a great pleasure watching you work," Jarvis quips.

"I've missed you, Tony," you say. "Maybe you should get some sleep, huh?"

"I'm fine."

You step over his mess and grab the TV remote to turn the TV on. The news channel immediately starts playing until the screen glitches and the news is replaced by something else... something more sinister.

A man with a long beard walks the streets of a third-world country. The video shows disgusting and horrific images one after the other. In front of the man are people on their knees with burlap sacks over their heads. Behind them are soldiers with guns pointed at the people. The man walks away from the people just before the soldiers shoot every single person who is kneeling.

"Some people call me a terrorist, I consider myself a teacher. America, ready for another lesson? In 1864 in Sand Creek Colorado, the U.S. military waited until the friendly Cheyenne Braves had all gone hunting, attacked and slaughtered their families left behind, and claimed their land." The images switch to the Cheyenne Braves, a Native American tribe. "Thirty-nine hours ago, the Ali Al Salem Air Base in Kuwait was attacked. I did that. A quaint military church filled with wives and children, of course." Images of burning buildings show up on the screen. "The soldiers were out on maneuvers, the braves were away. President Ellis, you continue to resist my attempts to educate you, sir. Now, you've missed me again. You know who I am, you don't know where I am, and you'll never see me coming."

The last thing you see before it ends is the Ten Rings symbol.

"The Ten Rings?" you gasp.

"Didn't you say you knew them?"

"They're assassins and highly dangerous. They're not to be messed with which is why I never came close to them."

The news comes on after the interruption, and even the news reporters look worried. President Ellis stands behind a podium at a press conference, most likely to address what was just shown.

"Central to my Administration's response to this terrorist event, is a newly minted resource. I know him as Colonel James Rhodes, the American people will soon know him as the Iron Patriot."

Rhodey in the War Machine suit steps onto the stage, and you put a hand to your mouth when you see his new look. Instead of the normal metal look, he's painted in red, white, and blue. Talk shows and news across the country are having a field day with this.

"And how is President Ellis responding? By taking the guy they call War Machine and giving him a paint job," Bill Maher says on his show.

"Same suit, but painted red, white, and blue. Look at that. They also renamed him Iron Patriot. You know, just in case the paint was too subtle," Joan Rivers states on her show.

"You should go," Tony says to you.

"You don't want my help with this?"

"I guess it couldn't hurt. You don't have any other worldly things going on, right?"

"No, I have nothing going on. Let me help you."

"I think we should talk to Rhodey. He seems to be in the middle of it all."

"Fun. I haven't seen him since Justin's deadly robots," you grin.

x

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