#Like it's not my dream home but I'm no longer living in someone else's garage?

[justonefeather]

Found a picrew. I'm OBSESSED it's "pre cracked maker" so here's my transition in a nutshell i suppose!!!

Me at 13 immediately before transitioning -> me now (26) after ~8 yrs T, top surgery, hysto, and finally feeling semi comfortable in my body -> further transition goals (depending on if my body and confidence levels are gonna work with me or not)

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Change is due

*Credit to gif owner*

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader

Pov: Reader

Warning: Fighting, Swearing, fluff, angst, Dean being a douchebag, guilt.

Summary: What about talking instead of fighting.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n- This is for band-pyschos 1.5 followers bingo writing challenge. This makes me sad, but whatever.

Square- "Stay with me"

Dean Winchester Master List

Main Master List

Tag list: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @wonderfulworldofwinchester @doctorlilo @hit-meup69 @fofisstilinski

The drive to the bunker was quiet. The rev of the engine. The downright scariness of the way that all I could hear was the passing of other vehicles on the road. That sound too eventually stopped as the driver back to the bunker was much longer than originally anticipated.

Dean had a temper like nobody's business. The temper of a wild dog, or maybe it was a wild bear. Regardless Dean's temper was downright scary most times. But then again most times that temper of his was never directed towards me.

Yes between miniature fights, and getting annoyed with each other fights did occur, but nothing too bad. You see, three years into hunting and now living with the famous Winchesters. I had fallen deeply for Dean Winchester.

Falling for someone is an already dangerous game, but falling in love with a Winchester. The most hunted after, hunters of them all that was a dangerous game to start playing.

I played the game regardless. Can you imagine falling for someone so much that your worlds just connect so well? Like amazing jigsaw puzzle pieces. Or maybe falling in love was like finally figuring out the correct word in a crossword puzzle.

Like Forrest says "Life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're going to get." I would have never been able to tell you that when I was a little girl playing in my room running around in the pure white dress that I would one day grow up kill the monster that haunts this earth, and fall for the most righteous man, the fallen soldier, the best hunter I had ever met.

Could you imagine a six-year-old, coming up to their parent and saying that one day they'd fight monsters, and fall in love with the greatest monster hunter of them all. In your dreams.

Life with the Winchesters was most of the time pandemonium. Life with them was like living in the thunder dome. Like driving on the icy roads and hoping that you don't fall off the cliff. But life was calm sometimes, being able to have a half-assed normal life was good for all of us.

Sam was the best brother a person could ask for. The best friend a person could ask for. I think the moment I met the Winchesters, Dean and I were like magnets dragging each other together. Slated to be together for the rest of our lives, soul mates if you will.

This last hunt was nothing like we had ever dealt with before. So many children had been killed. I had put myself in the way, getting hurt instead of letting more children get hurt. A natural mother... or maybe just a natural instinct of a woman.

Dean, of course, was anger like normal, but usually, his anger would blow over and we'd either make-up or like the band, AC/DC says "You shook me all night long".

this night was different though. Something was off, something felt wrong. Yes, the drive was long and very fucking quiet but something in the air felt wrong. I'd like to think that I'm a tough cookie, a queen disguised as a princess.

I always think that Dean forgets that the reason he and I get along so well is that we are almost alike, in almost every way. We act the same way, love the same things, react the same way. Two peas in a pod if you will.

Dean tends to forget that when he gets angry, but comes to his sense rather quickly after, he either gets blown off, or the subject gets changed, something that he does often to Sam or me. In the situation where he knows he has no control, or where he is uncomfortable, feeling like he's being pushed into the corner.

I used to let Dean act like a douchebag. I let Dean get mad, yell, throw things, get in my face. But recently. Dean's anger has been out of this world, too much to bare, too much to handle. he almost turns into the hulk. It's like he forgets his normal manners and just wants to hulk smash literally everything around him.

How do you make someone realize what they are doing? How do you show someone how they are acting is affecting you?

Finally after what felt like days, but was really just hours of driving we pulled into the garage, the sound of the engine bouncing off of the cinderblock walls. During said drive Dean and I made eye contact once, his green ember eyes staring deep at me through the rear-view mirror. My own eyes making sure to stare at him with just the same amount of deep soul searching Dean was.

Sam steered in his sleep, the coldness of the garage and the car smell waking him from his sleep. Not a single word was said. Sam was the first one out of the car, opening the impalas back, grabbing his bags, and making a rather quick exit of the garage.

Neither of us moving from our spots. We sat in silence. A silence that's a funny word if you think about it. It the most screamed word when you're being told to be quiet. But it weighs heavy between two people.

Fighting was and has never been my style with Dean. Dean wants to yell and be an idiot then I'll let him be, but I won't go without saying my peace. I'll get up and leave if I want to. There's nothing holding me to the man, an argument is just a battle of words.

Finally, Dean moves, moves to look in the back seat. His eye passes over my figure like always. Passing by over my crisscrossed shins up to my jean-covered thighs, over my hips, up my t-shirt and flannel covered belly, up to my tall shoulders, and to my face.

The little light that was streaming into the impala's backseat. "Why?" Was all Dean said, staring at me. I chewed my lip thinking of anything to say. "Stop chewing on your lip. It's finally started to heal." Dean said.

Still, my body stuck in my crisscrossed position. I heard the creak of the impala, as I saw Dean shift from the front seat to the back seat. "I'm pretty sure that I just told you to stop doing that." He said bringing his thumb up to my lips, gently pulling down releasing my bottom lip from my teeth.

"What were you thinking?" Dean asked picking once again at the issue at hand. "I was thinking about the children," I said looking at the man next to me. It was quiet for a moment, then a heavy sigh filled the air.

"The children?" Dean said questioning me. A cocked-eyed eyebrow raised in confusion to my answer. Sometimes it's like my answer is either not good enough, or isn't the right one. "Yes, the children," I stated calmly.

"I'm getting confused here Y/n," Dean said shifting causing the smallest of creak from the old impala. "I stepped in front of the children," I said.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that but why?" He asked. This firstly is going calm, and Dean's asking questions just before assuming shit, but why does this seem odd, kinda like all of the sudden protecting the young kids isn't enough to get a few scrapes and bruises.

"Did the great Dean Winchester just ask me that?" I said now turning the tables and questioning him. "Yeah, I did." He said so cut and dry-like. "You really wanna know why?" I asked

We were still sitting in the back of his precious car. I had rested my head on the headrest, closing my eyes. Dean was just staring, it had become a bad habit of his after we got together.

"Because Dean those kids didn't deserve whatever that monster did to them. Hell, I just pulled ten kids out, you and sam pulled at ten each. Can you even imagine that, because I can. Being so scared that I can't even protect myself." I said.

Taking a deep breath in and sighing loudly.

"What are you talking about Y/n?" Dean asked, looking at me now with more intent. Wanting yearning to get to the bottom jar of worms we had so carefully opened.

"You know what ignore me, it doesn't make any difference," I said uncrossing my legs and turning to unlock the back door. I was stopped before my fingertips even grabbed onto the cold metal on the handle.

"Do you remember that promise you made me? All those years ago." Dean said, pulling me into his warm touch. His scent of bourbon and wood fell down around us. "No, I don't Dean," I said honestly confused about what I had promised.

"You promise me that whatever was on your mind you would come to me and talk about it. I know six years is a long time, but that day you promised that you've never broken that promise." Dean said while he drew small circles into my lower back.

"Tonight though right now, you're breaking that promise. You don't have to give me every single detail but just don't go walking in front of a monster because you don't know what else to do. You know that you can talk to your boyfriend right?" He said questioning me towards the end.

I only shook my head in response Dean took that as his sign to continue talking. "I just, I'm fearing that you're starting to drift away, and honestly Y/n. Honest;y Y/n I don't think I would know what to do without you." Dean said.

This is different, new, and odd. This Dean is someone who only comes out when the world is ending or the tears are about to be shed for the umpteen amount of time. This Dean, this is the Dean I fell in love with. "So make me this promise now, stay with me," Dean asked.

"Stay with you?" I asked, "Of course stay with you, I guess I just have to learn to be able to ask for help, right Dean." I said hugging him from the awkward position we had fallen into when he pulled me away from the back door.

"No more running, no more fighting alone. We do everything together now." Dean said, cupping my slightly tears stained cheek." Bumping our foreheads together in a sign of good faith you could say. I hummed and returned the favor.

Moments like this the calm, and the quiet. These were those times where I felt at home. I've realized with this job, hunting home isn't a place with four walls and a roof over your head it's about the people in your life. Make a home with the people who care about you. Make a home with the people you would fight anything to hurt, Make home able to be anywhere.

And when you can do that finally you can make home turn into love, and love into strength. Having all three makes you happier I'd like to think in the long run of things. So just "stay with me" that's all I'm asking of you, the rest we can do together.

Completed on: 05/06/2021

*Happy Throwback Thursday*

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_________

Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

[faythelyse]

Joji x Reader {female reader} Apocalyptic setting. Part two.

It had been about a week since I had invited the two new men to our community. Tending to George became a regular part of my day. Cleaning the wound and dressing it atleast 2 times a day. He has slept through all of it, I wonder when he will come to. Ben and Ashlee have been going out every day for a supply run. We haven't been this stocked since everything shut down.

Ashlee had grown close to Ben already, they go out frequently on supply runs, and spend most of their waking time fixing up the truck that is now currently running. To top it all off we haven't seen any infected near the community in 3 days. On my way to now to what is basically George and Bens room. I think they might end up living here for a long time. The thought of that made me smile.

I walk in medical bag in hand ready to dress up his wound. He was actually sitting up with his legs crossed. He appeared groggy, but smiled as I entered. "Did you sleep well?" I asked in a happy tone. Sitting next to him I open up my bag and start getting stuff ready. George starts to try and rip at the medical tape around his bandages.

I reach out and stop him with my hand. "Here let me help" I take a cotton ball and soak it in baby oil and wipe it all around the edges of the tape. He watches quietly.

"Let that sit a bit." I got up to throw the cotton ball away and his eyes followed me around the room.

"Thank you" he says as I sit back in front of him. "Where is Ben? "How long have I been out?"

"Ben is out in the garage with Ashlee, unless they have left already. They are heading out to get stuff to build up our walls a bit more, and you have been out for about 5 days. Did you dream?"

He rubbed his eyes "Um. Yeah, I did." He watched as I pulled out new clean bandages and tape. I start to softly pull off the tape around his ribs and chest. "You've been taking care of me all this time." I nod and continue to remove everything.

He winces as I clean his injury. Its healing. "You are lucky. It seems to be healing up great."

"Thanks to you.. We were lucky to stumble across you. I don't even recall what your name is."

"It's Y/N, if there's anything else you need just let me know" Right as I was close to the door he speaks up again.

"Can you just stay a moment with me. Ben and I haven't seen any others in months. It's nice to just be around someone who isn't infected."

"I understand. The girls and I who make up this community were getting restless not having anyone else to communicate with besides the raiders who come by to give us a hard time and steal our food."

"Raiders come and steal your food?" George looked genuinely worried knowing we really weren't in a good position to fight back.

"They killed Elenas fiance awhile back. We have tolerated them ever since." You look away not knowing what else to say on the subject. You couldn't yet explain to him that one of the raiders was especially infatuated with you and you had no choice but to go on tolerating it with no real way to fight back.

You change the subject "SO what did you do before the world shut down?"

"I made music. I still make music really. Just no ones around to hear it.. " He scratches the back of his neck nervously. "I heard you singing the other day when you came in to clean up the room."

You immediately blush. You don't sing in front of anyone.

"Don't be embarrassed" he laughed so casually "Y/N you sounded beautiful."

You smile nervously still not able to say anything. You could feel your face get hot as he just sat and stared at you for a moment.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to secretly listen in, I just didn't want you to stop.."

Ashlee opens the door "Y/N! We kind of have a small emergency." She motions for you to follow her. Before you leave you grab a pen and some paper from the desk in the corner of the room and lay it on Georges lap. "To write music." You say and smile before leaving the room.

George feeling great about finally having someone else to bond with besides Ben is immediately struck with inspiration and starts writing. George glances over at the green coat he had been injured in and has a flash of memories about the night he had met you. The tone of your sweet voice bounces around his head. Your messy hair, soft eyes and pouty lips had immediately drawn him to you. He wanted to know you.

Ben bursts in and plops down whilst shoving an immense amount of potatoe chips into his mouth. "They have ramen" he says with a mouthful. George rolls his eyes and smiles at his friend. "Yeah Im doing fine, thanks for asking dickhead."

"Aw come on, I knew you'd be fine, you've literally eaten a hair cake and survived." Ben laughs and shoves more chips in his mouth.

"You keep bringing that up like it's some life achievement." George manages to stand up and leans up against the wall next to the window. Ben walks over and gazes out the window with him. Ashlee and Y/N are outside trying their best to catch a mean goose that had laid her eggs in Elenas garden. They had plans to catch and breed her for food. George and Ben laugh quietly while watching this go down. "So what do you think of the girls? They seem great right?" Ben watches Ashlee, he is clearly into her.

"I actually completely agree with you on this one. They are great.." He says while thinking of you. "What if the people who gave me this" he points out his woind" find us here. Then we are putting them in danger."

Bens expression turns serious. "How are they going to find us? Besides if I see those fuckers again I'll be prepared this time."

"They found us last time, and we barely escaped.."

"That was last time, this is different. Have trust." Ben slaps George on the shoulder and starts to leave " Besides, we owe these girls. It wont hurt to stay awhile."

"And your dick has no alternative motivation for this?"

Ben smirks "Of course not, I have no idea what you are implying. " he shuts the door behind him.

George still by the window looks over the area for a moment. A garden was out in the right corner of the yard where a young woman was planting seeds while talking to

Y/N, who was sitting on a nearby stone bench. She appeared to be writing. George thought for a long time on if staying here was the right choice but something about Y/N made him want to linger a bit longer.

He walked outside, and stood behind y/n for a moment before making her aware of his presence. She was so immersed in her writing she didn't hear him walk up.

"You have nice handwriting." George spoke softly but his gentle voice made y/n jump even higher. "Jesus, you scared me. Also its rude to spy on someone who is so obviously journaling." You slam your book shut hoping he hadn't read to much into what you were writing. His big dark brown eyes lightened slightly in the sun. "Could I get a tour of the place? We can talk about how to pay off my debt to you. I really owe you my life." He was serious. You stand up and glance over at Elena. Elena looks up and waves her hand at you giving you the okay to leave her to her garden. "Sounds good, I'll show you around." You lead him out the gate into the front yard. You turn around and show him the full outside view of the house. "This is where we lived before we combined the house behind us, we decided it would be better to have a larger space, and fenced in both backyards, even cleared the second house. Now we have plenty of room in and out without having to worry about infected." You both walk back in, you lead him around the kichen and show him to all the rooms. "Where is your room?" You are starting to get the sense he could be flirting with you. You open the last room revealing your space. It was filled with old cds, books and papers, a bed with maybe too many blankets, and couple game systems hooked up to a tv that was plugged into a generator. "Homey" he says as he walks in making himself comfortable and plopping on your bed.

"You seem comfortable." You smile taking in his small gestures and goofy smiles as he gives your room a good look over. "Okay we can move on to the -" he interrupts you "Whats this?" He picks up a wrinkly piece of paper. It was a suicide note you had written a month or so ago after the raiders had killed elenas fiance and deemed you their new play thing. You didn't want to live in a world where you were trying so hard to survive only to get used whenever they decided to come back. Which was about twice a month. Sucked it up though. You care to deeply for all of your friends. You couldn't leave them to a worse fate. "I don't plan on doing that anymore. It's not a big deal." You whisper while looking down out of embarrassment. He walks up to you and pulls your chin up to meet his gaze. "Y/N I'm here to help if you need me." He pulls you into an unexpected hug. You relax in his arms. That was the moment he decided he didn't want to leave. He wanted to hold onto you and this peaceful place as long as possible. This felt like a dream to him. Ben and George had been wandering with no real home for atleast a couple years now. This felt like it could be home. "I'll pay my debt by helping you get rid of those assholes who think they can come by and take whatever they want." You push away from him. You knew this was dangerous, thinking about standing up to them at all made you sick to your stomach. We couldn't continue living in fear though. You nod your head in agreement. And you both walk back outside where everyone was circled up talking.

[hangonimevolving]

***SPACE BAR!!!***

When my sister and I were young in the 1980's, we used to love - LOVE! - this game on our old, gigantic Macintosh II computer. It was called Crystal Quest.

So in the game, the player used the (giant, roller-ball) computer mouse and single, rectangular button to control the cursor (the white circle thing in the center of the above image), as it tried to navigate this black field full of diamond shaped crystals (good), random mines, obstacles, and "bad guys" that made the most hilarious noises ever. Once in awhile, this shiny, massive crystal would pop up on the screen and start bouncing around crazily, and you got beaucoup bonus points if you could capture it - but the risk was running into aforementioned mines and bad guys, some of which shot bullets at you, multiplied, "pooped" out mini-bad guys that acted as more obstacles and mines, and some even exploded when shot. Amazing, amazing game.

If you're dying to see this in action - view here:

Anyway. As you leveled up in the game, obviously things would get hairier and more difficult, and my sister and I had limited talents overall in the video game department... suffice it to say, we never got very far. We never "conquered" the game. The only reason we got as far as we did was because of ***SPACE BAR!***. This became our "safe word" to each other while playing - b/c when things got hard enough, if you were lucky enough to have aggregated enough points or crystals or whatever, you'd start earning the right to "bombs," which were these "clear the palate!" deals that you'd detonate in the game in order to clear the entire field of bad guys and mines that were bothering you. You only had a limited number, so you couldn't do it often, and my sister and I were so untalented at the game, that neither one of us was ever really coordinated enough to control the mouse and the space bar at the same time, hence the need to shout SPACE BAR! at each other so that the person not playing would hit the space bar for the other one! But anyway. They were a saving grace when things got just too complicated and overwhelming.

So. Why am I bringing this up?

A few weeks ago, Dr. Spouse and I officially hit the Space Bar for our family.

After about 100 days on the market, we finally got a real offer on our house. A serious one. We'd had a few others, but none felt serious, and/or negotiations didn't go very far with them. But this buyer really meant business - and they were in a huge hurry. From the time of their offer till our closing date and move-out, only about 17 days elapsed. It felt like the blink of an eye. Funny, b/c there was hardly a moment to waste simply blinking eyes. We had to HUSTLE to get the house packed up, our movers organized, and most of all - to figure out where the $%^& we were going.

Because, our family likes to make things as complicated as possible :)

The truth is, we actually bought a house. We had a house that we were able to buy, and we are OVER THE MOON about it. I'll talk way more about it soon, but suffice it to say - it is my DREAM home. I am so excited about it.

But. New house is a FIXER. We are looking at ~6 months of renovations at that house - renovations so significant, that living in the home is going to be impossible for a time. So we were going to need somewhere else to put up for awhile during this whole remodeling thing. With our two children, and our cat. Eep.

Cue Dr. Spouse IMMEDIATELY launching a great short-term rental apartment/house hunt. Which lasted approximately two days, because we really just didn't have the time for it to last longer, and the silver lining of our situation is we knew that whatever rental we chose, it would only be for a few months.... so. Happily, he found something that we could all live with quite easily: a 3 bed/3 bath, split-level townhome with a one-car garage and a small balcony, with all hardwood floors throughout. The boys would be able to share one of the larger bedrooms, and the main bedroom with en suite separate bath was a generous size for the two of us. The third bedroom would serve as our homeschool classroom, Pixel's nighttime abode, and our "just in case someone has to come stay with us even though Covid is pretty much guaranteeing we won't have guests" guest room. Best of all, the apartment is only about 3 minutes from our new house, so we can keep an eye on the renovations. It's also zoned for the same public school that the house is, so in the event that we are still living here by next school year (which OMG, we better not be - the house better be finished by then!) - the kids could enroll in the school, and then continue going there even once renovations are done and we move into the house.

Soooo many FaceTime tours of apartments provided by Dr. Spouse....

As he tackled the "where will we live" question even while working an extraordinarily busy few weeks at work, I did my best to handle pretty much all the other details. I dealt with all the paperwork and communication with the realtors about the sale of our house. I got estimates from three moving companies, found a storage unit for the 60+% of our household belongings that we wouldn't be bringing to the apartment, and I worked on some household repairs at the old house to get it in shape to hand over to the new owners....

Honestly.... I feel the need to give you all an EXTRA moment of time, to take in and appreciate this haute couture ensemble I am rocking as I use my power sander to smooth out the drywall compound that I've slathered onto our TV wall mount holes. Just look at me. I'm a vision, in my Amazon Basics T-shirt, jean shorts, pink flying elephant apron, Isotoner bedroom slippers, and my protective eyewear and mask. Rawr. Sexy beast.

The glamour didn't stop there. Then came the Packing Up of the Shit. Decluttering, tossing out trash, donating stuff, then boxing up the contents of the universe. BOXES, BOXES, BOXES. I was swimming in them. And, it wasn't just the boxing. It was the decision-making. Because, as I mentioned earlier -this was a complicated-ass move. We were moving from one house, into not one, not two, but THREE different locations: the temporary digs during renovation, the storage unit that would house all the shit that wouldn't fit in the apartment, and then we made the decision to have all of our outdoor patio furniture and crap delivered directly to the backyard of the new house. So, one point of origin, THREE points of delivery with this move. COMPLI-CAAYYY-ted. I developed this elaborate numbering/color-coding system. For real. Numerous round colored stickers were involved.

Okay, Tumblr is being weird and saying I've exceeded the number of pictures that is permitted in a single post.... so I'm going to pause here, and continue in a sequel!