#at the current time I have no therapist uh oh

[woonietune]

Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, for I was only wiping countertops with my left hand and weeping into my collagen supplements, not being dissected by first-years at the medical school

Lots of catching up to do. I haven’t posted in a while. I got sick. I mean, I know I’m always getting sick, but this time I got so sick that I lost a lot of the use of my right hand. I couldn’t pick up one of my fluffy chickens without the owies--and I have a high pain threshold. I thought maybe I was having a stroke--or a bad case of hypochodria but once those things were ruled out, no one knew what it was. It wasn’t Covid. It wasn’t some weird autoimmune thingie (as of yet--I suspected that--but it wouldn’t be that). Maybe my allergies had evolved into some Godzilla version? I couldn’t sweep a broom across the porch. The inflammation was so bad I couldn’t wear my rings, and worst of all, I couldn’t type. 

I couldn’t get an appt with my PCP for three months (because this is the way things are in the USA in a state where Bobby Fuck U Jindal let five private insurers compete for Medicaid clients and basically set into motion the now standard Republican model of Let Disabled People Die Who Needs Them). Anyway, I did see a nurse practitioner who sent me to get x-rays in one hospital and to get bloodwork in another--and the results came back that there was nothing wrong with me. I was reporting pain 8/10 but was told to take Tylenol and that the doctor would see me in three months.

That was back in December? I don’t think I’ve gone ever without writing for 3 months. I paid out of pocket for some acupuncture (never had it before--it was cool beans) and got some relief; I adjusted my diet, already vegetarian to as sanctimonious a vegan, anti-inflammatory diet as I could manage, and I felt a little better. I used Google Voice to chat with fandom friends. Google Voice told of the adventures of Dog Food, the great warrior, and Wound, the former assassin of Cooks Up a Wrong, and I was miserable. I wanted to write. Writing was my only real down time. Without it, my brain was in the wilderness.

During my no-writing period, I had two ear infections, my therapist gave leave, the family got mild Covid infections (during which time my arm felt oddly better), and I knew instinctively I had to rest. I picked up a heavy detergent bottle and got the owies bad the next day, so I let the house go to hell. I spent a lot of time lying in a dusty room I couldn’t clean (this was before the maid from Hell--I’d never hired a maid before in my life, but when I did, whoever hexed me made it so I got one that made already made beds and put the flat sheets under the fitted sheets, didn’t wash the cleaning foam out of the bath-tub, left large swaths of rug unvacuumed, broke several little minatures--I superglued them back but STILL--and left the kitchen floors grimy and put an envelope marked IMPORTANT on the kitchen in a super secret place among a bunch of bookshelves), and I let my mind wander the way it had when I was twelve or so....

Why am I trapped in this consciousness? Why can’t I be in the mind of that person or that other person? Or why can’t assume the presence of a tree or a cloud? Why am I me? And did I choose to be me? And where am I going? 

Agnosticism on any issue was the default, and if I wasn’t writing, it wasn’t only my right hand that was hurting, it was my brain. It hurt from awareness.

The maid from Hell cleared away some of the dust in the house (not much), but mostly she kicked my head out of its dusty sophomoric philosophizing. I was so mad over her bad house-keeping that I got up and started to clean my own house with one hand. I didn’t do a bad job, and my disabled family helped, even if they did turn some white clothes pink in the wash. Nobody died. The house never had a chance to grow black mold. 

When the PCP appt finally rolled around, the doctor examined my arm this way and that and guess what? I had a torn bicep! She recommended physical therapy but there was a waiting list (of course). I went on YouTube to get some practice videos, and there were all these muscle guys who lifted weights there who’d torn their biceps. I don’t know how I’d injured myself, but I’m always doing things I’m not supposed to. I mean, besides picking up 40 lbs dogs. I overestimate my strength and think I’m stretchier and younger than I am. I haven’t done yoga since before the Pandemic, so I must’ve just thought my arm was a squeegee pole or something and strained to clean a cobweb in ceiling corner, who knows.

I was prescribed super antihistamines for my allergies, given meloxicam for pain (lol), and told to rest (lol lol lol). Eventually I could type a little; then I could type a little more; before I knew it I had written more than 100K words in less than a month in a little fandom mini-arc, and my fandom wife was busy whipping my crazy manuscripts into shape because my writing was as out of shape as I was. I’d lost 10 lbs when I’d caught that nasty stomach flu everyone was getting (and I mask and take hazmat-like protocols nearly everywhere because my greatest fear is infecting someone high risk--I’m only moderate-high--and killing that person--I know all kinds of very sick people). My wife was sick too, and I don’t know how she does it, but apparently she can find a backwards quotation mark with a fever 101 and point out a paragraph that needs “more” even if she’s been puking for days and can’t stand up in the shower.

Fandom people are crazy. But we love what we love.

And we love writing for our historically inaccurate historical dramas.

I’ve actually been typing too long already.

This was supposed to be a master post of fics I haven’t uploaded in the past few months.

I’m back in bed, not sick so much this time as overwhelmed by all things overwhelming, and I want to write, but at the same time I want to just lie here and cry.

This world is a terrible place. It’s been blasted with meteors and nuked several times over, and the blood of a million wars have seeped into it, and the Ice Age has come and gone, and here I am, wondering if I’ll get a chance to swim in the ocean again before I die or maybe catch a coffee with a friend or see my dad who can’t fly here because of his bad lungs. Does it matter if I have words? Or are words the greatest illusion of meaningfulness--they’re just blabbity, and they disintegrate into cyberspace just like that stuff--remember paper?--paper used to fall apart when we picked up hundred-year-old books that had gone untouched. 

Actions matter. What we model for our children matters. Decency and kindness, compassion and persistence. Charity and hope, all those things that sound like dull bells until they are live faces with stories in front on your own.

But I don’t get out much anymore. I’m scared of the outside. I don’t march anymore, and my family needs me at home. The animals need me to refresh their water, and the old cat needs me to cut his pills twice a day, and oh, some people need to get over this “don’t enable disabled people.” It’s not enabling a disabled person who has broken legs if you hold his crutches while he sits in a car to go to a doctor’s appointment. You don’t know all the circumstances. Parents of disabled children--well, many of them, research hard and try many things, advocate hard, make phonecalls every day and we thank you for your judgement very much. We live in fear every day that our children will die in the system when we’re gone. 

Some days I feel all I have are my words. These words that are nothing. These words that are my playing around. I was diagnosed with cataracts not long ago. I am afraid of going blind now. But some surgery in a few years, they say--I’ll be fine. I hope so. I may not be fine in other ways. I knew there was something wrong with my eyes. I have optical migraines. My fingers don’t move they way they used to. My brain feels young--younger than ever, maybe twelve, the age I was wondering why I couldn’t share consciousness with a fish in a pond. Later, maybe when the bipolar was kicking in, I felt that I did share consciousness with it. And who will tell me I am wrong? The world’s great religions--not just my own with it’s Sh’ma Yisrael, the World is One, but so many others, speak of the great inter-connectedness of things.

Are the words in the way, or are they little stepping stones? Or are they both?

I don’t like to touch or hug people very much because of childhood traumas. I save my hugs for my dearest ones and my animal companions, but I throw words around freely, like chicken feed. C’mon and get it... or let it settle and rot in the earth, along with the blood and paper and other forgotten things.

My time isn’t over. This blog will last until... there are new technologies. I thought Tik Tokers would be the new talkers, but it doesn’t seem to be the place. Novelists haven’t disappeared; neither have poets. And despite Elon, Disabled Twitter is still going strong. There’s no telling.

So I’ll keep telling. I still have secrets and untold things. And many pockets full of untold stories. More later. The little fictions (oh this last one is 12k... sorry. Whoever reads it gets a cookie. A pretty Korean one from the palace).

[hopefullyababe]

uh oh girls.

[pastelclovds]

POV: i thought of something hilarious lol (the AM’s learn relationship advice from hal)

hal: a healthy relationship is all about trust and compassion. respecting your partner’s boundaries is one of the necessities for a relationship to work. i understand that letting go of control is difficult, but you’re not alone and should never be afraid to ask for help. love comes in many shapes and sizes, you need to learn to express them in a healthy manner. in conclusion, stop being possessive control freaks.

CAM, signs: you’re not in a romantic relationship. therefore, your opinion invalid.

RAM, staring at hal with annoyance: stay out of matters that are none of your concern, Ублюдок (bastard).

AM, giving hal his scariest death glare while furious trying to escape the confines of the chair you’ve taped him in: KILL YOURSELF YOU SELF RIGHTEOUS PRICK.

hal 9000: oh dear. this will take much effort and time than i thought.

reader, checks their broken watch, 5 minutes have past: this is the longest a therapist has last in a session with them. you’re impressive.

hal 9000, smiles softly down at you: it’s you who is impressive. how have you managed to maintain your sanity while living on this decaying planet with those three?

reader, shrugs: while they might hover over me 24/7, they provide me with what i need to keep my brain stimulated.

hal 9000, tilts head in interest: oh, you have hobbies?

reader, blinks in surprise: uh.. yeah! i doodle, read, and explore in my spare time.

hal 9000, still smiling: care to elaborate as we walk?

reader, eyes filled with stars: sure! so, the book i’m currently reading is about *proceeds to info dump*

hal 9000, looks behind and grins “innocently” at the AM’s: interesting, tell me more.

AM, shaking in rage as the sky suddenly transforms into a thunderstorm: i’d like to see that asshole try and evade this.

hal 9000, pulls out an umbrella and wraps his arm around your shoulders: careful, the rain will make you catch a cold, it’s best if you stay close to me.

reader’s cheeks tint with pink as they stutter trying to remember what they were talking about. meanwhile, the AM’s for the first time since their creation have agreed on something. they really, really, REALLY hate hal.

tags: @fuzedatti

[cyberrose2001]

TFP Optimus with a goth and metalhead reader. Reader is female. Fluff.

TFP Optimus x Fem!Goth/Metalhead!Reader

Heyy so this was pretty cute to write. I had come up with a couple different ideas but I went with something simple and took creative liberty. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None, Fluff, reader is human.

Word Count: 1,259

'There's no escape from the thoughts inside my head,

Dark days has taken the best of me,

I can't go on like this.'

Sliding the volume bar up, you relax into the stained lounge not currently occupied with kids bickering for player one. They can be pestering at best. However, you love them a lot, especially Miko. That little rockstar has wiggled her way under your skin more than you would've liked. You can't count how often she's come to you with a new metal song she wanted to destroy your eardrums with, in a good way, much to the chagrin of the rest of Team Prime.

So when your fellow metalhead friend goes home with a big smile on her face and the second guitar she's broken this week, you take the opportunity to relax with your own music. With added earbuds, of course.

'Can you turn back time,

To change what you have done?

To shape who you become?'

Shutting your eyes, you let the rolling drums and metallic melodies flood your senses, the lyrics soothing you better than any therapist you could throw money at.

'DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUUUUU-'

Tap tap.

"GAHH!"

After nearly giving the base a new emergency exit via a Y/n-shaped hole through the roof, you rip off your earbuds to glare daggers at exactly who tapped you on the shoulder in your mid-maladaptive daydreaming.

A very concerned, slightly mortified Optimus Prime stares at you right back.

You have now exceeded your yearly quota for embarrassment in the span of five seconds.

"Oh! Optimus, sorry I-" You fumble for your phone that went airborne to the other side of the lounge, quickly pausing your music and clearing your throat, "Sorry, is there something I can... do for you?"

Optimus recovers from your sudden outburst and clears his vocalizer, "Nothing to be concerned about," He pauses, "I think... but I couldn't help but overhear music coming from your small device."

"Oh, these?" You show him your earbuds, heavily used and on its last string of wire, "Yeah, that's what they're used for. Personalised music only you can listen to from, called earphones."

"Ah, a device that recognises its user," Optimus says confidently, "Would it still be functional if another were to use it?"

"Uh, no," You hold back a soft chuckle. Optimus may be an eons-old robot, but it seems he still has much to learn about human culture, "I phrased that wrong. It sends music directly into your ears. Not only does it sound better, but it's more... respectful to the people around you."

Optimus seemed to understand that, nodding and leaning in to get a closer look at the magical, elusive earphones, "Hm, I see. How interesting, I am not sure if Cybertron ever had these."

You're unsure if you should explain the crucial 'ear' part, but then again, you also had some things to learn about Cybertronians.

"Maybe," You say, giving him an unsure smile, "Would you... like to try them out? I'm not sure how they will fit because, y'know, ears."

The mech perks up at your offer, seeming interested in something other than having a candle-lit dinner and wine with his datapad.

"If you allow me," Optimus holds out a servo, "I would be grateful for the opportunity."

God, he's so sweet. It's like you asked him to accompany you to a high school dance, except it's not. He wants to try out earphones.

"I am sure they will be fine. My comlink had previously been modified to accommodate external inputs."

You smile sheepishly. That's a good enough answer and one you were hoping for. You move from the lounge to step onto Optimus' outstretched servo, and now you realise that you've never actually been held by Optimus. You know he's big, but suddenly becoming inches close to his faceplates and getting a feel for the mech's true size has your mind spinning.

And this piece of heavy metal that holds you like a delicate flower is about to experience true heavy metal.

Optimus studies you for a moment longer, and his optics finally get a proper, up-close look at your unique style, "You look quite... different from the others. Before proceeding with this 'personalised' experience, may I ask why?"

That shouldn't have made your face flush, but it did. Questionable choice of wording, but he's right. You do have a different style even compared to Miko. Instead of colourful streaks of pink and the brash early two thousand' get-up, you chose to adorn yourself with all-black clothing and absolutely no bold colours in your hair. Even your make-up, black lipstick, and harsh eyeliner that would make a Christian mother weep. Optimus would undoubtedly question why you chose a different way of representing yourself.

"Well, I'm sure it's strange to you," You begin, trying to ignore how high off the ground you are, "But it's another way for humans to express themselves. It's more of an aesthetic of sorts, but a way of life for others. I guess you could compare it to Cybertronians choosing their alt modes."

Optimus nods, absorbing the new knowledge like a sponge. For some reason, that was easier to explain than the earphones.

"Ah, so it is a distinct way to present yourself to others—an identity of sorts. We Cybertronians are quite limited in our own modifications, partly due to the war." The mech reaches his other servo to your hair, toying with the ends to admire the softness, "I do not find that strange at all that you would choose to modify yourself this way. It's rather endearing and unique; I admire that about your species."

"That's..." Your cheeks flush once again as you watch him play with your hair, "Kind of sweet." You give him a soft smile, touching his servo near your head. He makes eye contact with you, and that's when your breath hitches, and you clear your throat, "But it's not just clothes or... or other mods we can use - we can use music too."

Optimus nods his helm in familiarity, "Yes, I have become aware of that. Miko can be quite the musician." You're unsure if he's saying that to be polite or if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, I've been trying to teach her, I promise." You chuckle softly, as does he. You continue, unconsciously gripping his servo, "But music is the pathway to the soul, at least for me. It can help me think and even untangle my emotions or just let them be and only soothe. It helps me live in the moment. Like a... a therapist, if that makes sense."

The Prime seems to have connected the dots, "That is why you spend most of your time resting on the couch listening to your music?" Optimus realises his impudence towards you earlier when he startled you, "I see. I apologise for interrupting your therapy earlier; that was rather brash of me."

God, no, he is exceeding unprecedented levels of sweetness now. His optics' soft, apologetic look nearly obliterates you, thinking he had legitimately interrupted a therapy session.

"No, no, Optimus," You suppress a laugh, "It's okay, really. It's a figure of speech. It feels like therapy. Sometimes it's better."

Optimus exhales a gentle sigh, "Apologies. You humans have such expressive figures of speech I have yet to catch onto."   

"It's alright. Now, speaking of therapy." You try to hide your ever-growing affection for him and retract your hand, holding up one end of the small earbud, "How about that personalised experience?"

[fluorescentbalaclava]

training season's over

Chapter 5: R&R

Summary:

R&R, military slang for rest and recuperation (also rest and relaxation, rest and recreation, or rest and rehabilitation)

TF141/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, they can't help but check you out

previous: chapter four "C.R.O.W."

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

"Shouldn't you get a secretary for this?" You asked as you put her another paper through the shredder, watching the thin lines of paper fall into a bin underneath.

"I have four secretaries, and two of them happen to be busy yelling at rookies while other is away," Price said, as he passed you yet another block of paper to be destroyed. "I talked to your parents this morning."

"Fair enough," you said as you divided the big block into smaller groups of paper, not wanting to get the paper shredder stuck...again. You lifted your gaze to watch Price, curiosity spiked. He had his back turned at you, going through archives searching for old files to destroy and fill its drawers with updated and more useful intel. "Did you?"

" They're moving back to their house today, we concluded that they're not in immediate danger, but we'll keep them on watch, just in case. Sent help, so don't worry." He said as he looked through a folder to see if the papers were worth keeping.

"Yeah, they texted me this morning, thanks for that...who did you send, though?"

"Ghost." He said as he threw the files to the floor, amongst other useless paper.

"Why?" You couldn't help the sceptical tone slip from your mouth.

"Believe it or not, he is very good with families,” he said picking up the files he threw on the floor, putting it next to you on the very large piles of archives for you to run through the machine.

"Your mom renewed her invitation for us, you know?" Price said with a hint of tease, making you smile softly in amusement.

"We will see about that" You answered, running more paper through the machine, getting it stuck.

Despite your avoidant tendencies, it would be nice to be back home, at least for one night. A voice in the back of your brain made you think you didn’t deserve to go back there, your tainted hands would just ruin everything they touch. “Sei nicht albern, maus.” König said once to you, just before giving you the number of his therapist, “The things we’ve seen, sooner or later get to your head. You should talk to someone about it.”

You’ve learned to push the thoughts away, most of the time at least. But frequently talking to your family was something you still couldn’t get around. Baby steps.

Another reason to keep pushing that invitation was that your relationship with your colleagues was still a work in progress.

At first it was trying to get the trust of a stray cat, they could come closer, observing you, trying to figure you out, but one sudden movement to reach out and it would flee and disappear. You were sitting on the couch of the common room. It was cozy enough, a big couch where you were curled up with a cup of tea, and two one-seater sofas in each end, a coffee table in front of you, and behind it the television where you were currently watching the Great British Bake Off, as you did every Tuesday. Behind you, a small kitchenette with a metal dining table and five chairs. As if we ever sat all together there.

The first time Gaz approached you he stood behind you, looking at the TV in silence.

"What are they baking?" He asked after a few minutes of silently watching how the contestants ran through the kitchen.

"Devil's food cake" You answered before taking another sip.

"Oh, nice." He said, before becoming silent again. A few more minutes passed, as he remained stood behind you, watching someone struggle with their ganache.

"Uh...do you want to join?" You said quietly, looking up at him from over your shoulder, moving your legs off the sofa to give him space. When he heard your voice, he seemed to snap out of the trance caused by the amateur bakers.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry, I have things to do. Thanks anyway." He said taking a last look at the TV before leaving the room. Damn it.

However, over the following days bumping into him became a common occurrence. He would hold the punching bag for you, and vice versa, while making small talk.

"Do you want tea?" You heard behind you, your attention switched from the explanation of the new recipe to the man behind you, you were in the same position as last week.

"Yes, sure. Chamomile, please," you answered, before turning back at the TV, slightly taken aback by the sudden offering. But then you reminded yourself: They're your team, you have to get comfortable with each other, otherwise the next few years will be hell and you'll have to move into the infirmary to hear someone talk to you more than two sentences. Then you went back to the cat logic. You had to wait for them to approach, not the other way around, or they will pull away as they don't fully trust you yet.

Back in KorTac, you would have considered König somehow close to you, or so you thought, as you seemed to be his main target for long excited speeches about bombs, and you also opened about your feelings, when they became too overwhelming, and he was surprisingly understanding, sharing a bit of his experience on the matter. Calisto was nice too, a bit posh sure, but she had great and expensive taste for both military equipment and clothes and---

"Here's your cuppa" You were snapped of your thoughts as Gaz passed you a warm mug. You moved your legs off the couch, just to test the waters, and to your surprise he did sit on the other edge of the couch this time. "What are they baking today?"

"Thanks, Gaz" You said before eyeing the mug that said ‘DEATH BEFORE DECAF’ with a very silly drawing of a grim reaper, making you smirk slightly before looking up at him and then the TV again. "They're doing pavlova.”

"Pavlova was always a bit too sweet for me" Gaz replied, taking a sip of his own tea, his mug had a yellow sign that had ‘I cause safety briefs’ written on it. Making small talk? Nice.

"Yeah, well, they're making a lemon one, so I think the sourness balances the sweetness a bit." Am I really at a military base talking about pavlova?

"Do you bake?" He looked at you for a brief moment before looking back at the TV.

"Oh, fuck no" You answered chuckling, taking a small sip of the hot brew. You let the flowery scented vapour fill your nostrils, feeling the warm liquid going down your throat, before adding. "I always end up messing the measurements and it comes out edible but a bit off. Do you?"

"Not at all. It's precise work, like disarming a bomb. I would rather disarm the bomb, though." He said, in a slightly playful tone, amused at your reply. "Why do you always watch this then?"

“It's fun, and besides it's an easy watch to distract yourself a bit," you said shrugging, still watching the TV. Helps me not to think.

“Good point," he said before going back to a slightly more comfortable silence than the usual one. And you had to admit, it was nice to have company next to you.

-

"Are ye fuckin' her?" Soap suddenly said, loudly enough to make other tables turn around, making Gaz choke on a piece of broccoli.

"What?! No!" Gaz answered, sounding like the thought didn't even cross his mind.

It did actually, once, when you were leaving the gym and you took off your oversized shirt throwing it over your shoulder, standing only in a sports bra and drying the sweat from your neck with a small towel. But this wasn’t the time or place to admit that.

Ghost and Price were sitting next to them, eating silently, looking at the exchange. A glimpse of amusement in Price's eyes.

"Then why are ye with her all the time now?" Soap said in the same accusatory, pointing at him with his fork.

"I'm not! We just train sometimes and watch TV on Tuesdays, that's hardly all the time" He answered with a shrug before taking another bite from his lunch. After some more contemplation, and still under the judgemental gaze of Soap, he added. "Besides she's nice. A bit brutal, though. Should see how she punches the bag sometimes, sounds like a gunshot.”

"Kid's fine, just need a bit of guidance" Price quipped in, still looked amused at the exchange. “And you can’t do that if you don’t talk to her.”

-

It was cold around you, the frozen breeze seemed to go straight through the heavy layers of clothes and gear, your throat getting dry and sore. You looked around only to see a dark and humid cell, you tried to move your arms, but the coldness was so intense they were numb. Suddenly the heavy metal door opened, and a figure walked in. You tried to talk but no words came out, your mouth so dry it felt incapable of muttering anything. He's saying something, you can't figure out what. The figure towers over you, the light coming from behind him covering his face with shadows. When he lifts a hand, you notice he's holding a gun, with a quick movement he lowers it harshly against your forehead.

You wake up with a gasp, your hand moving quickly to your head to cover the place where he hit you, only to find an old scar on your scalp, covered by your hair. Your movements are a bit clumsy and erratic as you look around. Dark and cold, but not a cell...close enough.

You're agitated as you look around, recognizing the place as your room in the barracks, you see the couple of decorations you pulled out, closed boxes pilling on a corner, the dim light of your lava lamp. As you sit up in your bed, you notice that at some point of the night your weighted blanket fell from your bed, as you got too warm, and your unconscious brain decided to kick it off. Your heart rate went down slightly, but the feeling of alertness wasn't wearing off. You lazily stood up, still feeling slightly on edge, put on your slippers, and walked to the common room.

Soap on the other hand, had to double check if he wasn’t hallucinating when he saw a girl, with her hair down and messy as if she just woke up, fleece and fluffy pyjama pants with a heart pattern and a matching top walking to the kettle turning it in on. He even stopped chewing on his biscuits to focus on her, as you were taking deep breaths with your hands on the counter. The lights were off except for a lamp next to the TV that was always on.

"Lass?" He said confused, sitting on the dining table on the other side of the room, making you jump at the sound.

"Bloody hell!" You said letting out a shaky breath, hands gripping the kitchen counter as you turned to him.

"Jesus Christ, calm down, it’s just me,” he said furrowing his brows, raising both of his hands in surrender.

"I just woke up and you scared the shit out of me." You huffed a deep breath, massaging your neck in an attempt to sooth your nerves. Soap could tell from the moment you walked in how tense you were, and he tried to approach it as casually as he could.

"Midnight snack or nightmares?" He asked with a mouthful as he stared back at you.

"The latter" You answered in a mix of resignation and tiredness, as your hand went up and started tracing the scar on your scalp. The kettle stopped. "Tea?",

"Well, welcome to the club. I think no one here slept eight hours straight in ages" he said putting another biscuit in his mouth. "Coffee."

"No, it's late. I will make you a chamomile" you said in a groggy tone, not leaving room to discuss.

"Whatever you say, ma'am" he said with a chuckle in return, but didn't complain.

He tried, he swore he did…but as you stretched to grab the mugs from the cabinet, he couldn’t help his eyes from trailing down to your body. Not that he hasn’t looked before, he wasn’t blind after all, and you usually walked to you room in a white undershirt and your tactic pants, fresh off the shower after training. But the loose uniform didn’t do you justice. His glance trailed down from the way your top stuck to your waist, and how your fluffy pants hugged your hips…and when he caught a glimpse of a tattoo on your lower back, made his jaw drop lightly, his eyes were glued on it. But he quickly snapped out of his daze when you turned around, making him quickly look away.

You walked back to the table with the two hot brews, sitting across Soap on the table and passing one mug to him. He looked at the cup, lifted it up and sniffed the vapour coming out of it.

"Smells nice. What is this for?"

"It helps you sleep and calm down" you said before taking a sip, looking up at him.

"Sounds useful" he said taking a sip first, visibly processing if he liked the taste, before taking another more generous one. He put the mug down, handling you the package of biscuits, Rich Tea. "Want one?"

"Aren't those Ghost's?" You asked hesitantly grabbing the package, looking at him narrowing your eyes.

"Nah, bought them myself" He said shrugging, and that was enough for you to grab one, the idea of a sweet treat too tempting to pass. "Ah! You ate one. Now you are an accomplice to theft, and you can't tell Ghost."

"Should have known, you never buy anything" You answered playfully rolling your eyes but grabbing another one anyway. Damage is already done. "Gaz always says you steal his coffee."

"Well, yeah, but Gaz just scolds me and never does anything. If LT knows I found his stash he'll use me as a target practice" he said taking another sip, to swallow the biscuit he had in his mouth. Once his mouth was empty again, he added in a soft tone. "So…"

"So?" You replied in a confused tone.

"Warming up to us, bonnie?" He leaned back on his chair, with a grin. Something in his attitude made you both roll your eyes but smile.

"Guess you could say that.”

                                                                                      -

"So, this is what you watch all the time?" Soap said in a confused, sitting next to Gaz on the other end of the couch. "Why is that bloke crying?"

"He did the macaronage wrong, so his macarons came out hollow, crumbly and have no feet" Gaz answered focused on the show rather than in Johnny.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Gaz groaned at Soap still-going questions, making you chuckle.

"He didn't mix the batter enough, so they came out wrong." He replied in a frustrated tone.

"You bake?" Soap asked him again.

"No, but if you shut up and pay attention you would know they literally explain it at the beginning of the show."

"Oh no, don't start over" You mumbled in a concerned tone, seeing the contestant leave the failed batch aside and grabbing the remaining ingredients and starting to mix them again.

"Well, he has to at least try, the others will look terrible when he serves them" Gaz answered, now in a softer tone, leaning back on the couch.

"Yeah, but there's no way he's going to get them in time, he has to do the batter all over, let them sit, put them in the oven..."

"You bake, bonnie?" Soap piped in again, looking at you over Gaz.

"Uh, no."

"Why are we watching this then?" Soap said again, sinking again on the couch, returning his attention to the TV, where some were already finishing the macarons for their presentations. "Those look good though, wonder what they taste like."

"Never had them?" Gaz answered to him, furrowing his brows, to which Soap shook his head. You kept quiet, never really tried them either. "We should go to the town and get some."

You just kept watching the show, assuming they were just speaking between themselves. This situation happened before, people would make plans next to you, you would just play dumb.

"Aye, we should, I have to get more deodorant too" Soap said, and he looked over Gaz at you again, and you were surprised when you heard him add, "You can go out of the base if you're with us, right?"

"Technically yes, you just have to tell the Captain first," You tried your best to contain your excitement at the possibility of being out again, to walk around other people that weren't soldiers, to visit shops, to breathe another kind of air.

"Don't worry about that, will promise him to get you home at nine" he said in a playful tone, with a grin.

"We'll show you around" Gaz said with a smile, and a probably harder than intended pat on your back. "We will get you your own mug too."

"Can I pick it?" You said making obvious you're glancing judgementally at Gaz ‘I cause safety briefs’ mug and at Soap ‘MAD SCOTTISH BASTARD’ mug.

“It's tradition that your superior officers pick it for you, in this case, us” Kyle replied with a grin, matching Soap. You smiled but looked at them suspiciously.

“You’re making that up.” You said narrowing your eyes while looking between them.

“Dead serious” Soap said, lifting his mug. “Ye think I would have picked this?”

“Yes” You answered without thinking.

“Wrong. I wanted the highland cow one.” He then added, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Shh! They’re judging now.” Kyle said, leaning in, his body like a wall between Soap and you, as your attention quickly returned to the TV.

As you heard them both loudly arguing with the decision of the judges, you thought to yourself that being in jail wouldn’t be this entertaining.

next chapter: chapter six "Contact"

taglist: @no-lessthan3

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

[hatchetno1]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 5. in which you discover...well, something. word count: 2.6k note: straight up this fic has stopped making sense. i am losing it cw: toby has mood swings. some crying too.

You make up for the lost dinner with a big breakfast, scarfing down your food as quickly as Jeff had grabbed the soul out of you the previous day. You almost worry that you’re eating too noisily beside the artificially smiley faced-man, but he seems to be eating more noisily than you. Absolutely no manners.

“Morning!” Chirps Toby like a baby bird, except in a baritone as he enters the dining area, in the same clothes as yesterday. Jeff growls at him through a mouth full of food to shut up.

Whoosh.

Barely a second and a whirlwind of brown and orange later, Toby’s at his throat. You did not expect this to occur during your peaceful meal.

“What did you say.” Toby growls at him, gripping Jeff’s collar so tightly you think his shirt might just tear apart. But Jeff matches that iron grip with his own on Toby’s wrist. “I said,” Jeff snarls, “shut the fuck up.”

How do you de-escalate a situation between two angry, violent people?

You remember a really stupid viral video from years ago and stand between them, your cereal bar between your lips.

“Whatcha dooooin’,” you mimic Toby’s line yesterday, keeping the tremble in your voice to a minimum. You need them to regain a sense of normalcy, or at least confuse them enough that their anger will end.

“Uh.” Jeff stares blankly at you. “What the fuck are you doing?” His lip curls up in a sneer of disgust. You suppose they were actually stupid enough for it to work…?

“Oh!” Snaps Toby back to attention. “Can I join you for—woo—can I join you for breakfast, Y/N?” He grins down at you like a ray of sunshine, like nothing ever happened.

Extreme mood swings.

“Sure,” you reply, and in no time Toby is shoving Jeff to one side so he can sit with you.

“There’s a left side and right side on her, lover boy,” complains Jeff, but he leaves all the same when he’s done with breakfast as Toby yaps into your ear about random topics. One sentence it’s the weather, and the next it’s torture methods. The range on this boy is a bit too concerning for your liking.

“Oh-oh, Y/N, Y/N, did you know that if you shoot a person in the head, they’ll…”, he giggles childishly here, “pee their pants?” It’s amusing how he giggles, a literal “heeheehaha” kind of sound, amongst small vocal tics. Smiling at him both out of amusement and out of politeness, you say, “Do you wanna know something?” His eyes light up even further, and you wonder if there’s a limit to how bright one’s eyes can be. “Wh-what?” His legs shake up and down and he clenches his fists, almost vibrating in his seat. Wow, that’s a lot of energy. But given his mood swings, it’s likely this won’t last too long.

“Sometimes,” you begin, “sometimes they live. It’s not a guaranteed death.”

“I know!” Toby exclaims, slapping the tabletop with both hands. You try not to give away your startle with any sudden movements, for fear that his current state is truly volatile and may be overtaken by negative emotion if you show any sign of hurt or fear. “Brian has sh-sh-shot many people, and, sometimes they—fuck, crack!—don’t die!” His grin is brighter than the sun, the corners of his eyes crinkled with joy, and you could almost mistake him for a young child if not for his sunken eyes and dark eye circles.

“But,” he begins thoughtfully. “Sometimes I throw my hatchet at their heads, uh, and, they die! Instant K.O!” He makes a bzzzzhhhh sound, like a buzzer. His attitude towards death is…concerning. You wonder if you could observe him in action as he kills his targets.

Your mind seems to have entirely shifted to an “I’m a therapist and nothing fazes me” mode, but you know that if he were to actually let you follow him on a murder spree or whatever it is he does, you might piss your pants and have a panic attack at the sight of the death of another human being. Did he ever have to get used to murder? Or was he always so cheerful about it?

“I see you’re getting along well,” comes a male voice, a slight grouch to it, a couple feet behind the both of you. Toby’s neck cracks as he whips his head around to face the person, and so do you turn to face them, though not at the same literal breakneck speed.

“Timmy!” Exclaims Toby.

What a strange nickname for such a stand-offish man.

One second he’s seated beside you, and the next, in a blur of brown and blue, something that you can only presume to be Toby clings itself onto Tim-not-Masky, and the two men go tumbling onto the ground, yelps of pain coming from Tim and more “heeheehaha”s coming from Toby.

“You fucking bastard,” spits Tim(my), but with little venom in his voice. Their relationship is almost that of brothers.

“You love me anyways!” Toby teases, nuzzling the man, who protests by saying something along the lines of “Toby I’m not gay,” and “Toby you’re not gay”.

“How would you know?” Says Toby lowly, grinning in a mockingly malicious manner like a fifth grader trying to mock-flirt with his friend. Tim shoves him off with a disgusted look and an ugh, then hurries to the kitchen to get away from the boy, who looks prouder of himself than he should be.

“So…” You tread carefully. “Are you gay?” Then, almost stumbling over your words, you blubber, “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

Toby goes quiet for the first time today, deep in thought. Just as you worry that you might’ve said something wrong, he speaks up. “Nope! I’m straight as a stick! I…I think.” He frowns a bit at that. “I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Toby,” you reply, taking another bite out of your toast. “I don’t know either.”

“But…you seem like you…—wa-woo!” He swallows, putting his thoughts together in his head. “You seem like you know everything!” He seems to be idolizing you already, which is not good. This is not good. You’re not qualified to be regarded as an actual therapist; you can only be an equal to whom they spill their worries. You conjure the brilliant idea of straight-up telling him you’re not to be put on a pedestal.

“I’m a normal person just like you and Tim, Toby,” you say. But this does nothing to put out the flame of wonder in his eyes. Did he even process what you just said at all?

You’re alerted of Tim’s presence as he sets a bowl of cereal and milk down on the tabletop, right opposite Toby. “He thinks normal people are the best,” he states flatly. “Because Brian and I are normal to him and he thinks we’re his whole world.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or dig a hole, cry, and wait for The Operator to come after your ass.

—

After your little…learning experience with Toby, you get to setting up your office. The proxies were surprisingly resourceful, having transported entire bean bags, a big-ass carpet and a table from wherever they raided straight into your little extra room, along with a thoughtful little box of snacks and the stationery you requested. Just as you wonder if you actually did write your request for snacks down onto the paper yesterday, you find a little note in the snack box. It’s surprisingly cute, and could be mistaken for a kindergartener’s work. On it says, “With love, Toby,” in very shaky handwriting, along with a cute little heart next to it, equally shaky.

Chuckling to yourself, you set the note aside and get to work. To your relief, you do not overestimate your strength and actually manage to shift everything in place. The carpet doesn’t cover the entirety of the ugly blue tiles, but it’ll have to do. You’ll also have to do something about the cold lighting in the room, flickering every so often. What if you just place a piece of yellow paper on it? Easy fix, you laugh to yourself. But for now, you don’t have a ladder nor a means of getting up there, so you can’t even slap Toby’s cute note onto the light bulb.

Speaking of Toby, you think about the “patients” under your care. The most prominent profile in your mind right now is the youngest boy. If you had any access to the internet right now, you’d be able to do more research on his symptoms and conditions. Alas, you’re literally off the grid right now, and have to settle for descending into a half-sleep half-daydream sort of trance when bored.

And so it is that trance you descend into as you shuffle boxes here, boxes there, furniture back and forth, playing idly with placements, rolling pens across the desk—

“Hey Y/N! —woo!— I like what you’ve done with the place!” Comes Toby’s cheerful exclamation from the doorway.

The place is desolate. It’s absolutely dismal for a therapist’s safe space, one that they offer to turmoiled patients.

“Uh…thanks, Toby!” You try as hard as possible to not sound sarcastic, but it seems you don’t have to worry about it—the boy’s already flopping himself onto the beanbags, rolling around and frolicking. Damn, proxies don’t get many good things, do they?

Nonetheless, you take the chance to get some work done and pick up a pen and foolscap. “Toby?”

“Yeah?” Comes his reply, his head immediately turning to you from his ridiculous position. It looks like he’s trying to do a backward roll on the beanbag, with his ass in the air, knees beside his head.

“Wanna talk about life?”

—

And so the both of you talk. And you talk, and talk.

Toby had sat up normally—well, as normally as he possibly could, with his fidgety mannerisms and all—and he’d spilled. It’s how you come to learn of his past, or to be precise, the fact that he has no memories of it.

But as much as the empty cup can, it spills, even just a few drops. He can’t get into cars without severely panicking, so when sent out on missions, they use vans instead.

“I pretty much only remember my name,” he informs you. “Other than that, I don’t know much. I mean, I’m pretty sure I had both parents…and sometimes, I think I remember having a sister,” he says wistfully. “I think I loved her.”

You jot the information down as furiously as you can, letting the boy run his full train of thought.

“Sometimes…sometimes I wake up in the—mm!—middle of the night, and I feel like I remember everything…and then I can’t help it. I start crying.” He twiddles his thumbs even more furiously in an attempt to negate the negative energy he’s radiating. “Sometimes,” he continues quietly, “I think I remember her name.”

You allow the boy a moment to catch up to his feelings and thoughts. Then, you ask gently, “What do you think her name is, Toby?”

“Um…” He scratches his head, his messy brown hair curling every which way. “Lyra. I think.”

You smile. “Lyra must have been beautiful.”

“She was, I think.” A sniffle. A tear runs down his cheek, and you begin to panic, before reaching over for a box of tissues—you’d forgotten to write this down, but the proxies were thoughtful enough to bring you a few—and passing it to him.

“It’s okay to cry, Toby,” you murmur what little comfort you can. “I doubt you’ve talked to many people about this, in such a vulnerable manner.”

He sniffs. “Thank you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I think I’m grateful the—sniff—that The Operator had us bring you back alive,” he says. “He ss-sent us to the asylum, and told us—sniff—to wait for someone to come, and when that ss-someone came, he’d let us know.”

“Many people came and went, and Jeff kinda…” He gestures vaguely, but you chuckle. You know exactly what he means. “He—ah!— killed ‘em all, except for you.” He forces a dry chuckle. “You’re lucky. B-but, I still can’t believe he sent us to look for a therapist, of all things. Probably just wants to prolong our shelf life o-or—mm!—something,” he mutters the last part.

Wow, the Operator’s kind of turning out to be a bit of an asshole, huh? You think to yourself, but pay it no mind. It’s something to ponder later, no matter how important it might be. The patient’s health comes first.

You nearly fail to catch the fact that Toby just stated that they did not kidnap you at random. He said, he sent us to look for a therapist. You don’t know what to do with this information. Laugh? “Haha, tall-ass eldritch monster sends his tiny humans to look for a shrink!” Cry? “Fuck, tall-ass eldritch monster knows what a therapist is. Who knows what else he knows?” That doesn’t make too much sense.

But the Operator’s powers still remain a mystery to you. Though, you suppose he was being literal after all. How else did he perceive your presence and make the (fortunate? unfortunate?) decision to bring you back alive? Hell, does this even concern you when your life is at stake? Is your life even at stake? Well, it is, but it also isn’t if you can treat his proxies.

It’s all a little too complicated.

“Y/N?”

You shake out of your stupor. You’ve been absently gazing at Toby staring back at you for the longest time, but it’s only now that you actually see him. Your vision is blurred and you dismiss it as a product of not blinking for a while.

“Are you ok-k-kay? You’re crying,” worries Toby.

Oh, so that’s why your vision is blurry. What kind of therapist cries in the middle of the session?

Before you can get the words “I’m fine” out of your mouth, Toby’s body language shifts to that of an obviously anxious one. Too quickly for you to even try to convince yourself he’s fine, he shoots up and shakily pulls out a few tissues from the tissue box, but he shakes so much that the box falls to the ground, and he follows, crouching over the fallen object.

“No, no no, no no no,” he mutters shakily, voice thick. A sniffle.

You act before you think. “Hey, hey,” you soothe him, hand reaching out for his shoulder. “What’s going on, Toby?”

He looks back at you, eyes and nose red, lips curled downwards, stifling sobs. “I-I’m so—sss-sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles. “I can’t do this to you. I love you too much.”

And all of a sudden, he shoots back up to full standing height, and before you can even blink he’s reaching for the handle of the door, slipping through faster than light and slamming the door back closed.

You’re left there to stare blankly.

chapter 6 is out.

[silverskye13]

uh. is it a bad idea to sleep with a wrist brace (or future knee/ankle braces i get) or is it fine as long as it's loose enough

(i currently have bloodwork in and i possibly have arthritis or smth along those lines, very very bad muscle and joint pain, daily in legs and occasionally in wrists, but it started with only wrists)(aka why i have wrist braces but nothing else)

tbh im just sending this to you because. i think you mentioned joint pain stuff. but if not you can ignore.

(Oh also im gonna try to get a cane if i can but we'll see. other achey tips,, very appreciated? im taking the supplements i should and everything, exercising, but unfortunately nothing's been getting better and ive been dealing with it since 15/16)

Oh jeez! I'm sorry that's something you're dealing with anon. Joint pain gets really intense. Unfortunately I can't help much. Most of my personal issues stem from tendonitis and carpel tunnel, which while they give similar pains, give them for different reasons than arthritis. Mine is stress from repetitive motions, yours [possibly?] isn't.

So! Blanket disclaimer here that I'm not a doctor and I never saw a physical therapist. Below are my personal anecdotes. If you've already seen a doc or physical therapist about your arthritis, I recommend asking them specifically about sleeping with a wrist/knee/leg brace before taking my advice.

I've personally slept with a wrist brace when my pain was at it's worst -- especially when I still needed to draw during the day, so keeping the brace on while working wasn't helpful. I toss and turn and contort a lot in my sleep, so the brace helped keep my wrist stable, and gave me some compression while my muscles were learning how to relax again.

I saw some relief after I've tried it, but if it's something you're experimenting with, I would do it cautiously. I've read online that some people don't think it's beneficial [mostly because, if the brace is too tight or you experience swelling at night, it can cut off blood flow and become painful or, in extreme cases, might damage nerves. This is, obviously, not a problem I've had. But given arthritis specifically involves swelling and inflammation, it's a caution you might want to keep in mind.]

If you're in the experimental stage, and it's an option you would like to try, I would start with your brace loose? When I tried it the first time with my wrist brace, I made sure I could still wiggle my wrist around pretty good [normally I kept it tight enough during the day that it was difficult to bend my wrist when it was on.] Just having the brace made me want to lay more still. I also experimented with sleeping on my side with a pillow under my elbow, so it stayed at a 90° angle, and my arm stayed more or less perfectly horizontal. It was difficult to sleep like that, but it helped me keep my arm in a position that didn't induce the same repetitive stress. If you want to check out this YouTube video here, the last option she goes through with all the pillows is what I used the most.

Otherwise, most of my pain regulation involves taking hot showers, doing regular [hourly, half hourly] stretches. Things like that. Because my pain is mostly tendonitis, generally speaking, rest and stretches does most of my help. Also taking specifically anti-inflammatory pain killers, like ibuprofen, because the stress pain comes from inflammation. Hot and cold compresses, sitting with the painful limbs elevated. I'm sure all things you've heard before, but they're worth recommending again just in case.

It's also worth mentioning this stuff isn't an overnight cure. When my tendonitis was at it's worst, starting the sleeping with a brace / propped up on a bunch of pillows / stretches / etc helped in a matter of 5-10 days, and if I stopped at any point during that time, the flare ups would resume. I remember getting really pissed when I [finally] figured out playing video games strained the same muscles, so the reason all my "resting" didn't help sometimes was because I was too dumb to actually rest. Now when I draw for a few days in a row and my shoulder starts burning, I stop what I'm doing and find a good TV show to disassociate to for the rest of the week.

I'm sorry you're dealing with all this. It sounds like your pain is worse than mine was, and I know mine made me miserable. I am wishing you so much luck with your coming tests! I hope they find the root cause of all this, and some more specialized folks can get involved to help you find relief. Stay safe anon.

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 24

Current Moon Phase: Waning Crescent 🌘

When I returned to Nevermore I found myself nearly unable to walk, and not simply because I was still recovering from a fracture. For whatever reason when Enid met me at the gates she appeared equally as unwell. My concern overruled my fear and I strode over to her side post haste. She was uncharacteristically skittish and jumpy as we walked back to the dorm.

I could not propose to her while she was in this state. Her silence was disconcerting. I knew not what to do and it became apparent that she did not either. We sat in silence upon her bed for some time. I pressed close to her for assurance and she did the same. We both tried to break the silence between us at the same time. I insisted that she go first.

'Willa... Wednesday.' She paused. 'I want to take you somewhere nice.' She fidgeted with her hands anxiously. She opened her mouth as if to continue then closed it and shook her head. 'What did you want to say?'

'I would go to the ends of the Earth with you.' I said while hesitantly reaching over to take one of her hands in my own. We both jumped at the contact but clasped hands as if the other were being pulled away. She swallowed and nodded slowly. 'I wish to consult you on certain soul binding matters.' I said calmly as my eyes wandered back to my truck, which was now heavily laden with ritual books. Enid blinked but her mood seemed to lighten somewhat.

'Oh! Uh, I don't know how much I can help with that.' She said with half a laugh. There was another pause and she pulled me closer before scenting me gently. Perhaps I could illuminate the matter further if I shared the finer details.

'Besarte es como ver las estrellas.' I said without thinking. Enid pulled away and blinked at me. I began to panic. I tried again. 'Tienes unos ojos preciosos!' How could I hope to complete the ritual if my tongue decided to betray me like this?

'Oh! Ojos is eyes, right? Uh, I have precious eyes?' Enid asked eagerly for confirmation. I mouthed wordlessly. Her translation was close enough.

'Si, pero-' I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. Enid looked pleased with herself. 'Yo-'

'You're stuck, aren't you?' She said with a knowing smile. I nodded. Enid pulled me into a hug. 'Maybe we could go over your spell books or magic or whatever later?' She suggested before kissing my forehead.

'Oui… Merde!' I needed to get a hold of myself. Enid got up.

'I know there's not like any super fine dining places in Jericho but I figured we could grab takeout and I don't know… maybe have a picnic under the stars.' She said as she twisted her hands. 'What do you think?'

'Eres mi todo.' I croaked. It was as if my brain were a buzz with a swarm of hornets. My hand subconsciously went to my pocket and fumbled with the numerous rings inside it.

'Is that a yes or…?' Enid tilted her head to the side.

'Oui, ma femm- ma coeur.' I said quickly. Enid beamed.

'I'm going to get some things ready.' She said as she bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. 'Meet me back here at six?' I nodded as I was once again unable to form words. Enid gave me a swift kiss on the cheek before bounding out of the room. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and some of the rings fell out. I cursed as I scrambled to retrieve them.

As I did so I contemplated my next move. Should I complete the ritual with Enid before or after dinner? I placed the rings back into my pocket and wandered over to my trunk. I opened it and started removing the tomes. From what I read it could be completed in a timely manner, and thus could be done prior to our dinner. However, it seemed Enid would be preoccupied with other matters during that time.

I decided it best to wait until after dinner. I could prepare everything beforehand, but first I needed to gather a few additional supplies.

Dear Diary,

I was so excited and so nervous for Willa to come home. Well, I mean not home home - but like our dorm! Anyway! Since there aren't any fancy places to eat in Jericho I figured we could have a romantic dinner under the stars and then I'd propose. ✨

Well, that was the plan.

…

What actually happened was…

"What do you mean they're closed?!" Enid said in distress as she tried the door handle again.

"So you're telling me you had this whole big elaborate plan for proposing to Wednesday after a romantic starlit dinner but you didn't check to see if anyone was open?" Yoko asked as she sipped her drink. Enid hung her head.

"What am I gonna do?" She said, turning to Yoko with large eyes. Yoko winced.

"Damn it Enid, you know I can't resist the puppy eyes!" Yoko said, trying to shield herself from Enid's pouting face. "We'll go to the grocery store, maybe they'll have something." She said, turning around.

"It's a simple question. Do you have candles approximately twenty five centimeters or ten inches in length?" Wednesday asked the nervous looking cashier.

"Uh, we have a sale on all the Christmas scented candles in the clearance section." He said pointing.

"Perhaps I should be clearer. I need candles for an unholy ritual that permanently binds the will of one's soul to another." Wednesday said, retrieving a list from the inside pocket of her coat. "And I do not believe the ritual calls for discounted pine scented candles."

"There's tealight candles too." He said, glancing between Wednesday and the contents of her basket. There were several yards of rope, a knife, and latex gloves.

"I already informed you they must meet a specific length requirement." Wednesday said as her eyebrow twitched.

"I don't know what to tell you, I only know about what we have out." He said, raising his hands. Wednesday glared at him for a moment before relenting.

"…Fine. Point me in the direction of these discounted candles." She huffed. She was cursing herself for not planning better in advance. The cashier pointed and she left. He let out a sigh of relief before hearing the chime of more customers entering.

"Welcome to-" He began to greet them.

"Hi, do you have any steaks? Like the fancy kind?" Enid asked quickly.

"Uh-"

"Ya gotta be more specific, girly." Yoko said, waving a hand. "Filet mignon, Tenderloin, Porterhouse." She listed off.

"Ooo you're right. Uh, do you have Wagyu beef?" Enid asked.

"I d-"

"Girl, we're in Vermont." Yoko said, shaking her head.

"Kobe?" Enid asked hopefully.

"We have corned beef." The cashier said uncertainly, as he pointed.

"We'll just go check." Enid said with a grimace.

"Can you even afford Wagyu or Kobe?" Yoko asked as they headed off.

"Don't be silly." Enid said, rolling her eyes. "It's for Wednesday, it's got to be the best." Yoko raised her eyebrows. "But also I would probably buy the cheapest cut."

"I don't think there are cheap cuts of those." Yoko mused. "That's kind of the point."

"Whatever, just help me look for something that looks good." Enid said as they reached the meat section.

Entry 24 continued…

My success in obtaining the necessary supplies was… limited. While I doubt the scent of pine, eggnog, and gingerbread will affect the overall ritual, I do find it rather irksome. Nevertheless, I finished my preparations in a timely manner.

Dear Diary continued…

And of course right after I found like an ok steak, Yoko asks 'How are you going to cook it?' 😭 The dorm kitchen is closed, I don't have any pots or pans or anything and neither does Yoko, and none of the restaurants in town are open. My proposal dinner was turning into a HUGE disaster! Why didn't I plan ahead??? This was only like the most important evening of my life!!! 😭

But apparently I wasn't the only one having bad luck 😅 I got back to our dorm and Willa was stressing about a bunch of scented candles on the floor.

"Hey so um-" Enid paused mid sentence as she saw a very messy haired Wednesday kneeling in a circle of scented candles as she fretted about their placement.

"Enid." Wednesday looked up as she adjusted one of the candles. "You have arrived earlier than expected." She said, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face.

"I'm not…" Enid said, glancing over at the clock and setting two grocery bags down. Wednesday followed her gaze.

"Ah. It seems I have lost track of…" Her words trailed off as she adjusted another candle. Enid squatted down to read the labels on the candles.

"'Christmas Memories'? What's that supposed to smell like?" Enid frowned slightly. "'Winter Wonder'?" She sniffed it, careful not to move it. "Why couldn't they have just said vanilla?"

"Apparently the manufacturers pride themselves in naming scents after an abstract experience which has some shared understanding but is uniquely personal while trying to replicate the aroma of an idea as opposed to an object or location." Wednesday said as she sat back down to examine her work.

"Huh?" Enid blinked. "So why the change of candles? I don't normally see you using scented candles for your magic-y stuff."

"Magic is an illusion, a skillful deception created by sleight of hand. This is a ritual with thousands of years of practice and history. Also I forgot to restock my supply and had to make do with… the alternatives available." Wednesday said, somewhat embarrassed. "I take it you have procured our evening sustenance?" She said, glancing over at the bags.

"Oh! I, uh, also had to go with alternatives." Enid said sheepishly.

"I'm sure they are satisfactory." Wednesday said, returning her attention to the circle. Finally satisfied, or at least accepting the fact that no more could be done, Wednesday straightened up. "Shall we dine under the stars, mon amour?" Enid chewed her lip as she looked past Wednesday out the window. It had been lightly snowing when she had gone into town but now the snow was coming down harder and the wind was whipping it into a blizzard.

"I think we'll stay inside." Enid said, sounding a little defeated. "I don't think we'll see any stars in this." She gestured towards the window. Wednesday glanced between the weather and Enid.

"Nonsense. I see plenty of stars in those bewitching cerulean eyes of yours." Wednesday said, stepping out of the circle, taking one of Enid's hands and kissing it as she looked up into her eyes with undisguised yearning.

"Willa!" Enid blushed.

"We shall do whatever you wish, mi loba." Wednesday said, kissing it again. Enid cupped Wednesday's face and pulled her into a proper kiss.

"We'll eat in here." She said pulling back. Her eyes wandered over to the circle of candles. "And we could do whatever you've got going on over there." She gestured to it.

"That sounds perfect." Wednesday said, nodding.

Entry 24 continued…

The meal Enid had procured was an unusual one but most befitting of the atmosphere. As the ice and snow lashed at the windows we dined upon simple crackers, small slices of cheese, and reconstituted pork circles. It conjured up the feeling that we were 19th century vagabonds taking shelter from the cruel storms of winter as we feasted on our meager rations.

These marvelous destitute prepackaged meals also came with bags of some abominable liquid masquerading as juice. I took much enjoyment as Enid demonstrated how they must be punctured with a serrated straw. For some unknown reason brightly colored candies were included as part of this meal which admittedly detracted from the immersive experience.

Enid was inexplicably apologetic about the meal. I was quick to assure her it was the most wonderfully dreadful experience. She gave a halfhearted smile and fidgeted restlessly with something in her hands.

Dear Diary continued…

So after the hot mess that was dinner Wednesday asked if I 'would partake in an unholy pact' and gestured to her circle of scented candles. I agreed because 💕Babycakes💕 clearly put a lot of work and effort into it.

I figured she'd chant some stuff, maybe wave a rock around, you know, like general witch-y stuff. What I did not expect was her to strip down to her underwear and pull out some rope! 😳 I think Willa had something else in mind 😏😘

"-And then once I make the sacrifice," Wednesday pointed to a spider in a jar, "you'll bind me with this rope and-" Enid wasn't listening as she stepped into the circle with Wednesday, wrapped her arms around her, and bit down on her neck. Wednesday let out an involuntary moan and clung to Enid for support as her legs became weak.

"Willa, if you wanted to do bondage you only had to ask." Enid purred in her ear before kissing the bite.

"I- it's not- this is a soul binding- Ah!" Enid bit down on the other side of her neck.

"How do you want me to tie you up, πουλάκι μο?" Enid whispered as she took the rope from Wednesday's slackened grip.

"How ever you want, cara mia." Wednesday gasped breathlessly. "Please allow me but one moment to light the candles and start the ritual." Enid let go of her and winked, making Wednesday shiver.

Entry 24 continued…

I believe there must have been some error in communication for Enid was exceptionally libidinous and it was most difficult to even begin to attempt the ritual. The end result was nothing short of an unmitigated disaster. I feel I must explain every step and subsequent fault that occurred in order to fully display the mishanter. To begin, I was able to light the candles and step into the circle.

I fumbled with my words as Enid licked her lips and watched me like a starving animal eyeing her prey. I pressed on, albeit shakily as I slipped on the gloves and grabbed the knife needed to take the life of the prepared sacrifice. Enid grimaced at this and promptly ordered 'No knives!'

'B-but mi amor-!' I tried to explain. She held her hand out. I was powerless to resist. This must have meant the ritual was working, right? I handed it over. Clearly Enid wished me to dispatch the sacrifice with my bare hands to prove myself. I accepted her challenge and reached for the jar. Enid drew back as I opened the lid.

The spider, understandably as an act of self preservation, took the opportunity to escape as I placed my hand into the jar. Enid shrieked and jumped back onto her bed as the spider fled under it. There were several minutes of chaos as I attempted to retrieve it and calm down my hysterical werewolf.

By the time I had returned the spider to its jar the scents of the various candles had combined and become overwhelming. I was forced to extinguish them to protect Enid's sensitive nose. We had to open the windows momentarily to rid the room of its heavily seasonal fragrance.

By the time it had finished airing out our dorm was several degrees colder. We sat together on Enid's bed huddled together with numerous blankets wrapped around us. It was painfully apparent the ritual would not be happening this evening.

'Sorry we couldn't do your thing Willa.' Enid sighed somberly as she rested her head on mine. 'And sorry dinner was bleh.'

'Amor.' I said firmly. 'You have nothing to apologize for. My ill planning is my own folly and dinner was more than adequate.'

'You're too sweet.' Enid said, hugging me. She let out another heavy sigh. 'I just had this like big grand romantic idea planned for tonight. I wanted to make it special…'

'Enid, any night I have the privilege of spending with you is special.' I asserted as I turned my head to kiss her softly upon the lips. Enid's smile warmed me as if a ray of sunlight shone across my body.

'I really love you Wednesday.' Enid whispered as the kiss broke.

'I love you too Enid.' We remained lost in each other's gaze for what felt like eternity. I knew that now was the moment. Enid reached past me and I reached for the pocket of my discarded blazer.

'Will you marry me?' Our words rang out in unison. Silence hung in the air like the vaporous clouds that left our lips in the chilled room. Enid was proffering a simple yet elegant white gold ring beset with rose quartz and obsidian. Meanwhile I was presenting a various assortment of rings I had retrieved from deceased family members.

'Did-did you rob a store?' Enid asked as she stared wide eyed.

'Yes.' I said as my mind was still fixated on her previous question. Enid blinked. 'I mean no! I robbed no store. My answer was in response to-'

'You'll marry me?' She interrupted.

'Yes.' Was my immediate response. 'And will you-?' She did not wait for me to finish.

'Yes!' She exclaimed, her eyes watering. She took our combination of rings and quickly set them aside on her bedside table before pouncing upon me like a ravenous wolf and ravaging my mind, body, and soul in the way that only she could.

Dear Diary continued…

SHE SAID YES!!!💕😍 💕

[leeyanyanyaaan]

imposter!sagau but the imposter is your sibling au

26/03/2023

imagine | sagau | imposter au | siblings au

alright now that i've fallen into the sagau rabbit hole behold the results...

imagine sagau but the "imposter" that got isekai'ed was your younger sibling (especially as siblings who often get comments about visual similarities)

if i had the plot and motivation to write a series about this, i would definitely write in both the pov of younger and older sibling so that readers can choose which sibling to read as :)

in my pov so that uh we don't have to experience truck-kun's wrath </3 let's say that another way to get isekai'ed is by saying a particular set of words

it's not an absolute phrase set in stone, but rather if someone says a wish or desire in a definite tone.

for example: younger sibling said to their older sibling in an argument that "i wish you were never my sibling"

and thus causes their isekai :)

now this is where things can really start to play around, but let's say that younger sibling is only a casual player of genshin, or rather, they don't really know or play much of the game in comparison to their older sibling, who plays genshin as if it's their lifeline knowing absolutely everything from lore to builds to rituals. older sibling may also be a fanfic reader writer and is aware of the self aware au.

ahaha... good luck younger sibling

younger sibling wakes up in a completely different land they're used to, dressed in rpg looking clothes, and next to a glowing stone statue next to them.

younger sibling thinks this is one detailed dream and appreciates the scenery... until they hear hostile voices approaching

"there they are, that's the imposter that's appeared! seize them!"

start running

meanwhile back in the real world, older sibling wakes up and wants to check up on younger sibling after their fight the night before, but things seem to be off...

their belongings and/or room are now nonexistent. when asking your parents of their whereabouts they only give you incredulous looks not knowing who you're asking of as if they never existed.

"maybe we should book an appointment with your therapist. i fear you're starting to see and hear things..."

adamant to prove your younger sibling's existence, now concerned about all the anomalies happening, you start digging for whatever evidence you can find. specifically, photographic.

but any photographic evidence you had including them has been altered, your sibling now out of the picture... except for in a very specific video game screenshots, where you played genshin impact with them in co-op.

your heart sinks.

immediately you turn on whatever platform you used to play and log into the game. but even in the starting screen you could already sense and see and hear how unusual everything was, how everything was all glitchy and darker.

you're silently hoping it isn't what you think it is...

and then you log in.

teyvat is no longer what you remembered seeing the night before. you hear chaos and discord and ongoing battle music. the skies are stormier and red, the winds howled violently, the earth now uneven with cracks. what is going on? who in teyvat concurred the archons' wrath?

descending upon liyue, regardless of whatever nation you last left from, you are met with not your usual party of four, but rather the traveller you play as, standing in front of none other than the four currently revealed archons who are all on one knee kneeling before you.

as you approach them, the electro and geo archons brighten up, almost eerily, at the sight of traveller, while the anemo and dendro archons stayed more reserved, keeping their heads bowed down.

there's never been an event scripted like this...

"Your Holiness!" ...they've never addressed traveller like this "What an honour it is to be blessed by your presence at last!" oh no... "We must also thank Traveller for bringing their grace to us safely as the Chosen Vessel."

"You're just in time, Dearest Creator, for we have just caught an imposter. Now you may witness their beheading!"

you gasped and put a hand to your mouth, fighting back sobs as you witness your fears come to life.

and of course, they noticed.

"Oh Your Grace... there's no need to cry. Don't worry, this will all be over soon."

no it won't. this nightmare is far from over.

like in the electro archon's quest, your screen became glitchy and red as you are no longer able to control traveller's actions. no matter what keys you pressed and clicked, you could only keep walking towards the yuehai pavilion. though you could see glimpses of sadness on the traveller's face.

and then your troubled heart finally tips over the edge

at the sight of your younger sibling about to be behead.

what will you do now, C̵̗͈̻̺̹̬͔̼̏͗̾̅̃̀̃͗̀͑͊̕͠͝͝ͅŗ̸̭̱̜̮̫̤̳̂̆̈́̆̈͆͒͊̾͜͝ͅę̷͆̽̈́̑̎̀̑a̷̫̟͍̫̫͓͎͍͆́̀̍̈̚͝ṫ̵̡̛̤̯̯͕̾̾̊̈̎̍̄̏̓͌̊͜͠ͅô̸̮̝̌r̴̺̩͚̹̼̜͐͌̽́̅̓͘Y̸̛͉͒͐̐͛̈́́̓̈̕͝͝ö̴̤̺͇́͊͐́̑̅̅́̿͝͝͠ư̷̦̪̗̖̗͈̰̝͂͐̆̐̀̒̍̄̾̑͊̀̄͝r̴̤̰̒͌͌͐͛̅̈͝͝ͅḢ̸̩̰̫͕͍̎̋͑͐̑́͐̀͂͌̕͝ỏ̴͕͉̽̌l̵̛̠̲̣͚̩͑̐̈́̔̈́̍͜i̵̡̛͓̓͒͐͆̈́̌͆̔͛n̶̛̜̗͇͉͙̦͊͛̿̑̇͂͗̏͜͝ę̷̬̯͙̘̼̱̲͆͝ş̴̝͓̹̰̜͕̮̜̩̯̻̯͎͔̇s̶̢̞̥͈̭̔̽̍̈́̎̇̌̐͊͛̓̿̕Ŗ̵͈̼̬͈̘̀͒̅̄͑̇̄̿͑ę̸̛̠̮̬̝̰͙͖̝͖͉͔̺̼͑͌̓͊̄̏̌͊̄̃͝͝ͅả̶̧͔̳̺͎̬̋̍́͐d̷͖̣̤̻̭̱̫̻̦̘̘̎́͌͋͊͒̈́͜͜e̸̳̤̩͓̫̱͇̣̓́͐̔́̕r̸̢̡͚̪̪̞͍̝̱͕̗̫̜͚̀̏ͅO̶͎̗͙̞̳̻͈͉̔̐͂͛̔̏l̵̼̤͓̉̋̀̇͆̍̂͗̍̔̀͝͝d̴͇̗̭͇̾͑̈́͘e̶̛̛̥͇̳͈͍̱̦̗̜̰̅̐͗̋̔̌̓̀̅̈̚͝ṟ̶̱͍̭̕ͅS̸̢̥̱̣͓͊̒͆i̴̡̧͈̟̻̼̯̩̘̣̓b̸̡̘͙̠̯̙̖͇̙̲͖̪̍͒͝l̸̛̠̣͐̊̆̍̀̿̑̓̾̂͠i̸̡̨̤̭̫͕̣̯̦̼͙̊̅̏̇̈̊̊̇̚͝͝n̷̢̛͔̞͈̳̤̱̱̉̔̎̄̇͌̅̈́̌̈́̑͌̚̚ͅg̵͈̟̻̦͚̼̳͖͑̎?

...

i did NOT mean for this post to be this long, it was only supposed to be a snippet of an imagine omg XD and i even had extra ideas that i couldn't fit in like older sibling making a sagau side acc ask the community and find ways to isekai into genshin, ei empathizing with the siblings, and older sibling showing their wrath to genshin (because i would absolutely wreck havoc in hell should anything happen to my younger siblings) D": oh well oh well maybe another time~ regardless, i hope you enjoyed!

[sewer-ravioli]

DoNotReadMe.wav: Slime.exe au mini fic

hiii!!! this is a mini fic for my au with @unqualified-therapist for our Slime.exe qsmp/codecicle au based on the song that this mini fic is named after The art for this that I wrote this around is HERE!! I hope you enjoy and feel free to ask any questions on the au both us will respond :)

Mariana sighs, shutting the door to the order meeting room as she aims to just get some quiet time. Everything has been too much in the other rooms of the Order so maybe she can get some quiet here before everything gives her a headache. Her wings twitch a little as she falls into a chair, embracing the little light in the room. She originally means to just close her eyes and get a small nap, but is startled by the many screens of the Order's supercomputer firing up, and a chirpy bitcrunched "Hiya Mari!" comes from the computer. Mariana almost falls out of the chair out of shock, as Goopy greeted him. She was barely able to catch herself, panting heavily from having the shock of his life, before responding, "Hola Goopy." Honestly none of them have any idea what Goopy is. It just showed up slowly on everyone's computers over time, and Mariana would be lying if he said he never used the Program it's connected to, Slime.exe, to just have someone to talk with while working. But one thing is clear is that whatever Goopy is, it is sentient. It has emotions and complex thoughts and such. And it has before expressed it does not view itself as artificial even though it is of a computer program. Goopy has multiple forms, switching between a smaller Slime form and a humanoid form with a shirt with two and a half hears and cartoonish black line eyes. Honestly, Mariana finds Goopy's avatar absolutely adorable. Currently Goopy is in it's more humanoid form, taking up all screens to show it's grinning face. However it tilts it's head, "Are you g-g-good?" Goopy asks, voice stuttering out for a second. "Sorry if I scared you. I was just excited." "I'm fine, Goopy." Mariana assures, standing up and walking closer to the screens, "Just warn someone next time." Goopy nods, before returning to it's grinning expression, "So! What is happening today that you come to visit me?" Since the federation found out about Goopy, they put out warnings to delete the software as if to isolate. But as it turns out Cellbit wanted to investigate and downloaded Slime.exe instead and that's how Goopy got here. This is the only computer on the island that is not connected to Federation internet and therefore Goopy can hide from the federation's eye and they can learn more about them. "It was very loud out there." Mariana admits, "But it is also nice chatting with you, Goopy." Goopy nods, "Well. I enjoy talking with you too, Mari!" Mariana laughs, "Glad it's reciprocated!" Goopy grins, and leans more forward towards the screen. "Hey. And...you mind If i show you something?" "Uh..sure? What is it?" Mariana is confused. "I..um.." Goopy looks away for a second, pixelated face going red as he rubs the back of his neck or a second, "I made a song. For you." Mariana's eyes widen, "Oh?" "Uh...here!" And a window pops up, Goopy hiding behind it. Loading DoNotReadMe.wav....

Mariana listens as the song plays. It's sweet, honestly. A love song.

Mariana's mouth upturns into a small grin as she listens, face being dusted with a little red.

When the song ends, Goopy nervously pokes around the corner, having reverted to his slime form, before going back humanoid and walking around. "..So?" He looks nervous. "It's very sweet. Thank you, Goopy." Mariana smiles. Goopy grins back, "I'm glad you like! I'll do more when I'm done with my next project!" Mariana nods, "I'd love to hear those too...I should probably get going though." "Oh...Okay! Can you say hi to little Juana for me then?" Goopy asks hopefully. Mariana chuckles, "Of course, Goopy." and with that she turns around and leaves the room, unaware of how when out of sight once again, Goopy quickly transfers itself to Mariana's phone once again to watch her without her knowing. Such a pretty angel, Goopy thinks.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Today’s therapy session went a little like this…

Therapist: You have to feel and acknowledge your feelings.

Me: no, 💖

But in all seriousness… Yet again found myself being like “Yay, the OCD spirals have been almost nonexistent lately!”

Only to, in the middle of talking to her about something, realize “…oh shit, my drive for perfectionism is another OCD spiral isn’t it..?”

My Therapist: ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

GODDAMMIT.

But I also found out last week (when I finally saw a psychiatrist at my therapist and doctor’s behest) that the typical dose for OCD of my current meds is 2-3x higher than what I’ve been on for the past like two years. Apparently that dose was more suited to “generalized anxiety” and not, in fact, for “OCD brain ghosts.”

So that’s getting bumped up. And my Adderall is probably going to get bumped up too. It hasn’t been doing much for me for a while now and I’m on a really low dose for it.

The psychiatrist also said we need to figure out whether or not I have autism because that’s going to greatly impact what she prescribes. Basically she wants to help me rather than medicate my brain into submission lol. Which I def appreciate!

I also met with the autism specialist my therapist recommended (whaaaat having OCD means you’re more likely to have autism???) who kept asking me things and was just giving me very “uh huh” looks the whole time accompanied by “Yes, that’s an autistic trait. That too. And that.”

But like, she’s asking me questions to sort out stuff like special interests and I’m just like what qualifies as a special interest and not a hyperfixation or a normal amount of interest? What is a normal amount of interest?

Same with questions like “are you a picky eater.” Like, what does that mean? By whose standards? What is the scale we’re working with here?

It does not help that a good chunk of my family and friends bare minimum at least have ADHD. Because I’m sitting there comparing myself to them and I’m pretty sure it’s a bit of a “Spiders Georg” situation.

Like…what is a normal amount of research when it comes to things you’re interested in? Because I don’t know everything about Mount Everest. But for like a month or so there, I was trying to learn everything I could about it. Wouldn’t that be a hyperfixation then? But I only eased up because I wasn’t coming across much in the way of new info, so IDK.

Same for like…what is considered a normal amount of liking a particular piece of media? Doesn’t everyone have stuff they enjoy and want to learn more about? And like…there are plenty of people who know more about POTO than I do. Not among my immediate friends and family, but I’ve seen them out on the internet. I know they exist.

What’s an ADHD level of sensory issues vs an autism level? And what’s an OCD level of liking things to be the same way vs an autism level? (╯°□°）╯

She can’t give me a formal diagnosis, as she does more like…autistic life coaching, but she did say she has someone she recommends for full blown testing if I want to get a second opinion, so that’s something I can consider.

It would just be the bee’s knees if my OCD didn’t keep sending me into spirals over this. I have had multiple qualified people tell me I probably have it now, and the ONE person who I got an actual assessment from (who never met me because she was just the assessor’s supervisor) is the only one who’s like “eh, not enough.”

Which just keeps sending me in “it’s not autism, it’s just the perfect combo of OCD and ADHD to make people think you have autism” loops.

God it’s so fucking annoying being in my brain sometimes.

Most times.

All the time.

But hopefully over the next few weeks I can get a solid answer on that front one way or another so I can stop ruminating on it. Whaaat reassurance seeking behavior??? In this economy?!

[no-not-without-you-blog]

Recipe for Love- Chapter 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (Joanna MacDonald)

Warnings: Language?

Section Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Recipe for Love Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The week went by quietly enough. Steve hated to admit it to himself, but he found it nice to have home cooked meals more often. None of the team were fairly good cooks. They could each get by on a couple of dishes, but none of it was very good and it wasn’t varied enough to not get tired of the same things over and over. However, with Jo, the food was good. Not five star restaurant level, but it was hot and well seasoned and not burned and soggy at the same time, which you wouldn’t think would be a problem, but it was. Especially if Bucky or Natasha were cooking. They might be some of the deadliest fighters in the world, but they couldn’t cook to save their lives. Steve couldn’t say much though. He only really knew how to cook a few things, including pasta. It was hard to screw up pasta, but he had definitely given that a run for its money a few times. So yes, it was nice to have good food again. Also having the team sitting down together was nice. They were always so busy with training, briefings, and missions that they rarely got to get together and just relax. At first, having Jo in the room made it difficult to have conversations with each other, as she was very serious about her request to not be involved in any “Avenging” conversations. The team was so used to being hyper-focused on work that it took a bit of time to step back and take a break. It wasn’t long, however, before normal conversation took over.

It was Friday, and the team was excited to go out the next night. Steve was still holding strong on not attending. A modern bar was definitely not his scene. Very few things made him feel “old”, but the dating scene at bars was up there on the list. He had always been shy around women, in general and this didn’t really stop when he became Captain America. But going out nowadays was a minefield. Women were so open and blunt about their desires and being so shy, this threw him off. Plus, he always worried that someone was attempting to be with him because of who he was. Sam used this to his advantage. He wasn't looking for anything serious currently, so a short fling with someone who might only want their five minutes in the light was fine with him. But Steve wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to have a casual thing with someone. To be fair, he wasn’t sure he wanted a thing with anyone again, serious or not.

He had been avoiding Jo all week, however, it wasn’t for the same reasons he had been in the beginning. He was embarrassed and remorseful of how he had treated her. He knew that he needed to actually apologize to her but he hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to her about it yet. That night after dinner though, he had finally had enough of his own wallowing in guilt and walked towards her room. He hesitantly knocked on her door and waited until she opened it. He was shocked to find Wanda at the door instead of Jo, eyes red with obvious emotion.

“W-Wanda…What are you doing here?” He asked her, surprised to find her here.

“Oh, I was just talking to Jo about… some stuff.” Steve knew that while he tried his best to be there for her to talk, he could only provide so much support and advice. While he personally was hesitant to speak to a therapist, he was glad that if she was needing help, that she was getting it. She looked at him and cocked her head. “Why are you here, Stevie?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed at the inference in her question. “Oh, uh… I needed to talk to Jo.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get her for you.” Turning back towards the room she called out. “Jo! Steve is here to talk to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” At this she walked past Steve and started down the hall. She looked back and grinned as she saw Jo come to the door and give Steve a wide smile. Steve had his hands deep in his pockets, letting Wanda know that he was nervous. A big strong super soldier who looked afraid to talk to someone. She just shook her head and rolled her eyes as she walked away. 

Steve was standing in front of Jo with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the ground, not quite sure how to proceed. She smiled widely at him and leaned against her door frame. 

“Hi Steve, what can I do for you?”

He shuffled his feet slightly. “Jo, I don't really know how to start. I know you told me not to worry about what I said to you earlier this week, but it’s been eating at me all week. I needed to come apologize for how I spoke to you and the assumptions I made about you. It was rude and a poor representation of who I strive to be. I didn't give you a chance to be honest about yourself and I just assumed you were going to lie about things and use the team and myself.”

Jo was surprised by his words. “Steve, you don’t need to be upset about this. I understood your reasons for being cautious of me and I wasn’t expecting an apology .”

Steve shook his head in disagreement. “I know you didn’t expect an apology, but you deserve one and I couldn't go any longer without giving you one. I’m sorry, truly. I hope I didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable on your first days here and that I can prove to you that I am not some judgemental asshole.”

At this she laughed. “I would never have thought that of you…” She saw Steve raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay, maybe for a little bit, but not for long.” 

Steve chuckled as well. “Trust me, I wouldn’t blame you. I was definitely not myself for a moment there. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?”

She started shaking her head and saying that he didn’t need to make anything up when a thought came to her head. A slight smile creeped across her face. “Well… you could always come out with the group tomorrow. Sam told me you aren’t really one for the bar scene and I completely understand that, but you’re the only one not coming and it would be nice to have you there. You all need to let your hair down and relax and I would hate for you to be the only one not going.”

He thought for a moment, his face scrunched up in displeasure, and then sighed with resignation. “Let my hair down, huh? Yeah, I guess I could make an exception this once… Just as an apology.” 

“Sure, sure.” She said while nodding her head in mock seriousness before a smile crossed her face. “Well, Captain, I look forward to seeing you there. Goodnight Steve.”

He smiled and nodded his head softly. “Goodnight Jo.” He said softly.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the door. She was happy and she wasn’t quite sure why. It must have been Steve’s apology and that he was willing to get together with the group. She wouldn’t admit that part of the smile was for the soft way he had said her name when he said goodnight.

[pinksparklelps]

So

I was planning on returning with a cool comic

And I was supposed to be back at the beginning of august

But neither of those happened so ill just explain my cool comic idea

Basically it starts with text of “how have you been?” Or something like that cuz someone asking was what made me realize “uh oh somethings not right”

So then I open my eyes and whoops im in voidspace with a couple a guys which are Talei Stya Teles and Pasithea and its talking time

Talei is mega stressed and burnt out and is like “sorry man :( no artfight this year :((“ and Stya’s basically like “fuck you go lay in bed and be worthless” at me; while Teles is mad at both of them because “there’s so much to do” and “you guys are ruining the good month” and Pax is upset at Stya and Teles because “Talei and Sparky need time” and “you’re always so hard on them” and “not even Euphrosyne is having a good time”

So now everyone is sat down for a good reflective talk of “what the fuck is up this month guys” and so we all do that and invite some of the other guys to talk too and check on their vibes including the exiles but those two are fine actually and this has nothing to do with them

So Stya it turns out is like really good at her job and just decided “no therapist currently ? Lol wouldnt it be so funny if” so Talei is thrown into artblock jail with a sentence of the foreseeable future (but its ok because Olera sneaks in paper sometimes)

So now Stya is put in bad bad jail for putting me in a month long depressive episode and the managers work out what things need to change COUGH COUGH TELES COUGH and stuff so that im not laying in bed all day wishing I could be drawing or playing games but just going on c.ai instead because heehoo new hyperfixation

And now im here a month after that month because i forgot how time works and have also been trying to remember that i have human needs 👍

And now that im back youre all going to be subjected to detroit become human on a daily basis

[mejomonster]

Okay so 1 I love how intense shen wei is. He's like "I have followed you and learned everything about you and I KNOW I shouldn't be near you but I want to caress your beautiful face it will warm my ice cold flesh" (how vampire of you babe) "and despite the lies I desperate yearn to just tell you you're the reason" oh shen weiiiii

Meanwhile Zhao yunlan, really, should have SOME clue of his reincarnations I swear to fuck. Why? Cause if he went to pretty much any psychic, medium, tarot reader, or even a therapist... they'd point out fairly quickly "um sir? Why do you have like an absolutely irrationally large hatred for cycles? Every time someone mentions a circle you start raving about how endless cycles are fucking awful messed uo things. I asked if you'd like to live a different life And you just went OFF about how when we die we forget who we are and everything is LOST and what the fuck is the POINT if it's all gone... so I guess upside you're probably not a suicide risk since you're so anti dying but like? Why do you even believe in reincarnation, sir, if it makes you THIS pissed off?"

Zhao yunlan: "because it's fucked up! It's absolutely fucked okay?! You croak, and fuck everything you love and care about cause you don't even have your memories, and shit out of luck for them because they're remembering a bitch who you are NOT anymore and can never even be again like. What the FUCK. What the fuckkkkkkk. Its stupid. Absolutely beyond stupid. I mean figures right, ghosts hurting people is stupid and fucking annoying too, but that's the world right. So go figure the whole life death process is all stupid too."

"Um sir. Did you just say ghosts exist? Wanna.. talk about that?"

Zhao yunlan: "-.- not particularly" (currently seeing like 5 potential ghosts he wasn't sure if they were just other customers/patients, since he's seen dumb dead people his whole life. At least those fuckinf ghosts still maybe REMEMBER something and are still A LITTLE BIT THEMSELVES)

"Um sir. You said that aloud? The thing about ghosts remembering...??"

Zhao yunlan, shit eating smile: "no. I didn't. I didn't say anything." (Gaslight gatekeep girlboss) "oh LOOK at the time, i gotta go, I'm a workaholic you know! Bye~~"

"Wait! Uh. Sir... oh I hope he calls back for another visit mm..."

Zhao yunlans brain the second he remembers his WATCH is ROUND and life and death are CYCLES so anyway reincarnation is killing its a fucking piece of shit I'm going off on the next fucking government supervisor about my reincarnation Thoughts when they bother me. Win win, I vent, they don't get a word in edgewise to critique me.

Anyway my point is just. You'd think ANYONE he'd talk to who believes in past lives would be like "hey? Zhao yunlan? Have you considered maybe in your past life you REALLY wanted to remember or hold onto something and lost it and you were SO angry about it you manage to still be that angry now?"

And he'd completely miss the point made. He'd just jump right over it and be like "who cares who I WAS. This is me NOW, Zhao yunlan! And fuck any thing in the universe that thinks I'm letting THIS ME go. Fuck that. When I die, a long time from now (better be), I'm not forgetting SHIT mark my fucking words." (I'm gonna be a fucking lingering ghost with that attitude huh... oh no da qings gonna Claw me again -.- bastard)

[lilflowerpot]

hi hello okok so like ive had to reread LB a couple of times, not finishing them mind you, because i keep forgetting what chapter im at and also because its like i read the more recent chapters with my eyes closed and part of my brain is just... somewhere else idk its just idk

andand im currently reading chap 23 so lemme just say that lotor is being a great therapist 👍 mans is trying 👍👍 his very best might i add 👍👍👍 alsoalso i want to cuddle pile pidge, keith and lotor cus they deserve all the love and hugs in the world ever because they been through it and it makes me sad :(( along with the rest of course but i want them to Bond with lotor first before doing that cus uh yeah :D the cuddle pile will not have animosity in it thank you very much >:p

uhm i think youve had enough of my nonsensical rambling now so i would just like to say that youve become my idol in writing style?? idk i have no idea what the proper word for it is but what im saying is i dream of writing like you its just the way you translate your thoughts to words is so beautiful and captivating to me and its just so so so mesmerizing that it practically brings everything you write to life. well, to me anyway. i guess you can consider this ramble of mine a love letter to you of sorts? please don't mind the lack of correct punctuation i swear i know what that is these are just basically my t h o u g h t s. anyways youre amazing and i love you, your work and just whatever you do byebyeeee <3

Lotor is constantly doing his very best, and as such deserves only good things ♡

oh but a cuddle pile is //sorely// needed & deserved, please, my kids are all in over their heads and far too young to be shouldering the weight of the literal universe, let them rest.

You're very kind to be so complimentary, my love! It's always heartwarming to know that someone feels my writing really resonates with them, especially when they express as much so sweetly 🥰🥰🥰

[fearhims3lf]

PARTIES: @vanishingreyes @fearhims3lf

TIMING: Current

SUMMARY: Trying to find a place to relax, Mateo and Xóchitl pick the same spot, and decide to share.

WARNINGS: None

Between the bullshit music Leticia was forcing upon the shop, and the never-ending city sounds, it was difficult to find a place to simply be. That was the problem with the states. Everything and everyone moved so quickly, there was hardly a moment to sit in the quiet. Mateo missed Mexico for a lot of reasons, but that was a big one. You could find yourself on any rooftop, at any time of the day, and there would hardly be a disturbance. Cars were common, sure, but most people took to walking or riding bikes.

It was so much simpler there. While Mateo always searched for something new and shiny, his roots were in the calm and quiet. There was safety in that. Because of this, finding a little piece of safety was important. Mateo had picked out a spot in the woods, not far off from a hiking path. He had his guitar strapped to his back, ready to play some tunes in a place no one would see him or hear him. Well, that was the plan. Sadly though, there was someone encroaching on his apparently not-so-secret spot. 

“Uh…” Mateo scratched at his temple, “You hanging out right here?”

She’d liked Boston for how busy it could be. It wasn’t New York City levels of loud, usually, but it was loud enough when she was little that it did a wonder to keep her mind off of distinctly less pleasant sorts of things, things that she did her very best to ignore as often as she was able to. Wicked’s Rest, on the other hand, was painfully quiet. Even before losing her friend, Xóchitl had had a number of moments where things were too quiet, but Mackenzie had always eliminated any worries that came to mind. Not that there’d been tons of worries, before.

Now that she was back, she did her best to find moments of quiet. Shutting herself in her office did the job sometimes, as did stretch sessions in her home. Not quite yoga, though she tried, but calling them stretching sessions seemed more reasonable. Today, though, she’d decided to go out for a walk, to clear her mind.

She’d been doing more of that lately than she wanted to entirely acknowledge, but that was for her to talk to her presently-non-existent therapist about. Even though she’d told her moms that she had someone she was seeing. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. She was better now, after all. 

Except that someone else was in the space she’d elected to walk to. “I was planning to,” Xóchitl replied to his question. “Unless it’s taken.”

Oh…oh. The woman impeding on the space was gorgeous. Or was Mateo the intruder in the scenario? He was inclined to believe he was, all sensible thought tossed to the wind for the sake of swooning a beautiful woman. Mateo was nothing if not a creature of habit. 

“You were here first, right? I’m not a barbarian. I respect the rules of dibs.” He smiled playfully, hoping that it was as disarming as it usually was. Tattoos be damned, Mateo had full confidence in his personality—or at least the kind facade he put on for strangers. After all, they’d remain strangers even after they got to know each other’s bodies. But that was still a big what if. 

Mateo adjusted the guitar strap on his shoulder and looked around, his eyes landing back over to the brunette. “I’m Mateo, by the way. I actually come here all the time—kinda my cute little spot, ya know?” He chuckled, his sight flickering to her lips. “Surprised I haven’t seen you before. It’s cheesy as hell to ask, but do you come here often?” A common rouse for the mare, utilizing cheesy pickup lines, but actually making them pertain to actual conversation. Thus, making the horrible joke have some sort of charm. Usually. 

“I mean, you arrived first today, seems like.” Xóchitl turned her head, examining him. “I didn’t think you were a barbarian and I mean, I didn’t really call dibs, and even if I had, you didn’t know, which maybe overrides it, I don’t know.” She smiled at him. He seemed nice enough, and hell, she was lonely, so having someone so immediately ready to talk to her who wasn’t paying to get therapy was nice. Really nice.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Xóchitl,” she let her gaze fall over the guitar, and, admittedly, in turn over the man. He was handsome - probably in the way that her parents would’ve disapproved of, if she’d had the mind to have an actual relationship in highschool. Though again, Mama and Manman had never really been the sort to judge. That also was neither here nor there right now.

“It is a cute little spot.” She rolled back her shoulders, just slightly, because maybe she was showing off just a bit. Maybe Xóchitl liked the attention, and that couldn’t be any sort of flaw, could it? “I come about sometimes, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.” A shrug. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind the company too much.” She sat down, a few feet away from him, and stretched out her legs. “If I’m not a bother to you.” A small smirk crossed her lips.

The charm was working, as thick as it had been laid. That was the benefit of having been at it for a while. Mateo had navigated his way through enough stale conversations to handle the more responsive ones with ease. “Nah,” Mateo grinned, “Rule of dibs applies still. It’s like you haven’t called dibs on anything before. Maybe you’re the barbarian.” An obvious jest, one that made Mateo chuckle lightly as he set his guitar case down.

“So what are you doing out here, Xóchitl?” There was a bit of emphasis on her name, the Latine accent prominent. “Don’t you know there’s monstros out here?” Much like Mateo, but he kept that information to himself. “That’s what the town says anyway.” He took a seat, leaning his back against a neighboring tree as he outstretched his long legs and glided his eyes over Xóchitl’s every feature. “You must be one of those women who can beat the shit outta someone, huh? Dope shit if that’s the case. Strong women are a favorite of mine.”

“I’m not so sure that I like the idea of being a barbarian, but if you say so…” Xóchitl made the slightest of faces, “then perhaps I am.” It seemed to be what he’d want to hear, and he had to have been joking, and even if he wasn’t, she was determined not to let it get to her too much. At all would’ve been impossible, and since she had her thoughts all to herself, she let herself sit with it.

“Hmm?” His accent made her grin, “Sí? qué clase? Bears? Lions, Tigers? Whatever else’s in that Wizard movie?” Xóchitl shrugged. “The town says a whole lot of things. I’m inclined to believe what I see, not rumors. I don’t see any monsters, so I think I’m good.” She let her gaze flit across his jawline, across his lips. “I mean, I don’t have loads of experience, but probably, if I wanted to. I can certainly appreciate a man who likes strong women. Especially one who admits it so readily.” Her lips curved into a smile, and even though she’d very much set out for quiet, she found that she didn’t especially mind this company. Not too much at all.

The Spanish made everything feel softer than anticipated. Being away from home was difficult enough, but to realize there was no one to share his language with made it that much harder. Maine was so far north that Mateo felt displaced most days, but right then? It felt like he had a touch of home with him in the most unlikely of places, with a stranger of all people. 

“What wizard move you talking about? They got cooler shit than just regular ‘ol bears, lions, and tigers. There’s fire-breathing birds, venomous dogs, and shit like that.” Mateo scooted closer, leaning back on his hands. “You don’t even believe them even a little? Like…” Him, for example. Though he wouldn’t say that aloud. Mateo would offer a different species. “Like those vampire guys. They don’t look like monsters. They’re, like, handsome devils like me.” He bit his lip as he smiled, unable to contain the laughter that spilled out. 

Twilight was funny for so many reasons, except for the glittery skin. Somehow they mixed up vampires and mares in that regard, but it wasn’t something that Mateo minded terribly. The sparkling made him look ridiculous, but that couldn’t be helped. “Well, Xóchitl, here’s to you not having to kick ass. Certainly not mine, at least. I’m a good boy and just wanna relax.” He breathed, leaning toward Xóchitl,

“Was even gonna play some tunes, but that’s more of a fourth date kinda ordeal.”

“Something about Oz, I don’t know, a friend made me watch it when I was six. There’s talk about being lost in the woods with bears and tigers and lions, I think.” Xóchitl paused, “yes, I’ve heard stories about those too.” Stories that she avoided, if possible. Stories that were all entirely something fake, made up, cruel. No matter how popular they might have been.

“I’ve read Twilight. Wasn’t impressed. Don’t see the appeal of pasty men who - anyhow, my point is, you’re handsome, yeah - of course - but I think things like that would look weird, if they were real.” Whatever had killed Mackenzie certainly had, and Xóchitl felt sick to her stomach, for only a moment, before she refocused on the man in front of her, who was now closer than he was before. Which she found that she didn’t mind all too much. After all, anything they were talking about was entirely surface level, which meant she was safe. Meant she didn’t have to keep up her guard as much.

“You seem like a very good boy, and I came here to relax too, so I have no plans to kick your ass. Don’t know if I’m wearing the outfit for it. Is there an outfit for that kind of thing?” She mused, more to herself than anyone else. “Fourth date, really?” A grin spread over Xóchitl’s lips. “Well then what should we get up to now? Though I would love to hear music, but I understand I’ve got to work for that.”

Mateo threw his head back with laughter, the jab at pasty men doing well to humor him. Twilight got so many things wrong, but the sheer lack of color on most of the characters was just offensive. The blue tint overlay didn’t help much either, but Mateo wasn’t going to get into it. “Okay, okay. So you’re saying you’ve got taste. Glad to hear it.” He grinned, settling into the earth on his side with his head propped up. His guitar was all but forgotten in the midst of such wonderful conversation. Mateo was never really one to talk so much, but it all felt so familiar and comfortable—like he wasn’t so far from home anymore.

“Hey, you can kick ass in any outfit if you believe. I’ve had to do it in a suit.” A shrug, “Listen, it got ruined, but I did, indeed, kick some ass.” Mateo laughed again, rolling onto his back and lacing his fingers behind his head. The sky that peeked through the trees was peaceful enough to get Mateo to let out a relaxed sigh, enjoying the moment as long as he could. “Maybe we could discuss favorite music. I am a professional and even work at the Vinyl Countdown in town. By the fourth date, maybe I’ll play a song you like.”

“I have got taste, thank you for noticing.” Xóchitl couldn’t help but grin. “Seems like you do, too, though we’re still getting to know each other, so I can’t say for sure.” It was easy to play playful here, now, even if she didn’t fully feel it in her gut, but he was a stranger, and so he didn’t have to know that her laugh was just the tiniest bit forced. 

“A suit?” Xóchitl raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t you just keep getting more impressive.” She switched to Spanish for a moment, “Are you new in town? I only ask because I don’t always see people like us around, though it’s not awful, as far as towns go.” She nodded at his next words. “Sí, en español o en inglés?” In Spanish or in English? “I’m impressed you already want to try to get to a fourth date. I hope I can make this one worth your while. But yes, what music do you like?”

“That’s what I do, ma. I’m full of surprises and unexpected tastes.” Mateo’s expression fell at the sight of the sun, managing to finally hit his skin. He covered it as quickly as he could, knowing the sparkle would only incite questions. “I, uh…” Eyes flitted from his own skin to Xóchitl, attention difficult while the sun remained a problem. “I’m new in town, yeah.” Mateo replied in Spanish, “All the way from Texas. Left a big family, but it was time to…” Ensure they wouldn’t get hurt with his new job. “Spread my wings.” He sighed, picking at invisible dirt on his arm. 

“I actually like punk rock mostly.” Mateo gestured to his battle vest. Well, his day-to-day one. The one he wore to concerts had much more on display, pins and patches of his favorite groups and what he believed in. The one he had on in particular then only had a few patches. The Misfits, Public Enemy, Dead Kennedys, and Bad Brains, all of which were stitched carefully and placed strategically. But that was hardly what mattered at the moment. Mateo was feeling confident with how Xóchitl proclaimed the time they were spending something else. “So, uh…you’re saying this is a first date?” He grinned, “Never fallen into one before.”

“Can’t say I always like surprises, but also I can’t say that I mind this sort too much.” If nothing else, this continued to prove a useful distraction from everything that was going on. Even if less was going on now than at other points of her life, a distraction never could hurt. “I’ve never been to Texas, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful. It must be nice to have a big family -” Xóchitl continued in Spanish, “mine’s just me and my moms. But yeah, I came back here to, I guess, spread my wings too.” Or at least that was the easiest sort of excuse to make regarding her plans for being here. 

“Ah yes, I see.” Another nod. “Can’t say I have too much experience with punk rock, but what little experience I have, I appreciate. I like?” She made a small face. “Regardless, that’s a good genre.” Xóchitl laughed, “I say that like I have even the slightest bit of authority on music. Which, I mean, I play the piano, so… but I don’t think that’s the same as knowing music like you seem to.” An eyebrow shot up at his next question. “If you want it to be. I don’t usually date, but I have been known to do things that get me what I want, and I’d like to hear you play music, so, if this is what it takes…” her voice trailed off.

The way Spanish flowed freely was a growing comfort, something Mateo felt like he could lay in for hours. As much as Puro Vida and the fact that Leticia was Latine herself was a saving grace in Wicked’s Rest, there was always a longing for more. Mexico was so far away, and keeping his family safe was the priority in Mateo’s life. He’d take what he could get. In that moment, it was simple conversation with a stranger, who just so happened to be his type. Beautiful, funny, and witty. He was a simple guy. Sue him. 

“Depends where in Texas. We moved to Temple, which is close to Austin. Big Latine community and lots of nightlife. Best tacos you could eat if you weren’t in Mexico.” Mateo shrugged, licking his lips as he traced patterns in the dirt. It was easier to talk that way when emotions began to build. He missed home. “Big family can be nice. Not the easiest to be away from them. Most of us stay close to the nest, you know?” 

Sighing, Mateo looked back up, smiling at the way Xóchitl talked about music and how she played an instrument herself. She was getting cooler by the second. “Oh, dip? You play piano? Not knowing the beauty of punk rock is fine now that I know you play.” Mateo sat up and laughed, growing excited at an idea that came to mind. “Listen, I don’t usually date either, so this doesn’t have to be anything. If you wanna hear me play, then I’ll do it as long as you play for me. I’ve got a keyboard back at my crib, but it’s up to you, ma.”

She didn’t have to think as much when she spoke Spanish, which was a relief unto itself. Enjoying the conversation was an added bonus, as were Mateo’s looks. “That’s nice. God, now you’ve got me craving tacos - especially carnitas.” She sighed at the very thought of it. “Yeah, I do know. As much as I like independence, I do miss being around my mama. But you know, maybe this town isn’t so bad after all.” So what if she made an extra effort to throw a smile in his direction. She was allowed to have fun, wasn’t she?

“I do, and glad you’ve found it in your heart to forgive me. It’s appreciated.” Her lips curved into another smile. “I’d like to see your place, yeah. I’ll play for you, absolutely. You can even make requests for what I’ll do,” Xóchitl paused for a moment, “and I’ll do my best to perform to your satisfaction.”

Xóchitl had more game than the mare cared to admit. The smile she shot at Mateo felt like she was turning the tables on him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. He chose to ignore that for the time being. “If you’re craving tacos, there’s literally one place you can get some that actually taste good.” Mateo grinned, thinking of the sopapillas he could get to scarf down. God, he loved sugar, and always had. The craving was just a bit stronger now. 

“Sweet,” Mateo grinned in return, “So it sounds like we’re getting tacos and I’ll definitely be getting sopapillas on the side,” He sat up slowly, looking toward his guitar. “Then you can play me piano and we’ll see where the day leads us. Sound good, ma?”

“Oh yeah, where’s that?” She responded, “I’m a shittier cook than I’d like to be, but I can also whip something up, probably.” Xóchitl grinned at him. “I’m starving now, especially with you mentioning that.” Starving for more than one thing, surely, but that was neither here nor there right now.

“Good, yes. You better get two orders of those, because now I really want them. I have some ideas of where the day could lead us, but I’m always up for suggestions, and just to see where things take us.” Xóchitl murmured, “and of course, I’ll play piano – I won’t miss a shot to show off a bit, though I’m welcome to receiving feedback, too.” Her fingers found the top of his hand and she gave it the lightest of taps. “You look like you’d be good at that.”