#i do plan to write this eventually but BEAR WITH ME i am slow and love procrastinating ‼️

[cowboydisaster]

Lobo

reupload; originally posted on 14 february, 2023

read part two here

pairing: werewolf!Arthur Morgan x reader

word count: 5.2k

summary: You're on the run, hiding from the law. One night, your dog runs into the woods and comes upon a poor creature stuck in a bear trap. This isn't just some normal wolf... His eyes are the color of the ocean and he seems to understand you. The wolf continues to visit you, shifting back and forward between man and beast. He offers you his name, and eventually his heart.

a/n: this was originally a submission for the rdr events valentines exchange! This was my first ever werewolf fic and I was hella intimidated by it, but it was SO fun. I'm definitely down to do a part two if that's something people want. Let me know! Important things to know about this fic because everyone writes werewolves differently: - A werewolf's eyes glow red when they have found their mate, and after they've found their mate, their eyes glow red during very emotional/vulnerable moments. - A mating bite is just a way for the bond to seal between the two. It can be given by one or both parties -Arthur is a fully normal human being, aside from the fact that he can shift to a wolf. -Werewolves can shift between human and wolf at any time in this fic, not just on a full moon - The full moon makes a werewolf more primal. i.e. wanting to run, wanting to stay shifted as a wolf. It also makes the wolves more drawn to their mates and more protective

also as a little warning I am not well versed in werewolf lore, so if anything in this fic is way far off I apologize.

fic is below the cutoff

Your stallion's hooves slosh in the mud as you canter, riding towards a little area near Valentine that you’re planning to camp at for the night. The moon is full tonight, resting high in the sky and casting the night in an eerie, pale glow with dark shifting shadows. For the last few weeks you've been on the run, sleeping under the stars or in abandoned houses and buildings as you drift further and further away from Saint Denis. It wasn't your fault really. The man you killed? Well he deserved it. But every action has consequences… You’ve been drifting since it happened, never staying in one place too long. Parts of you miss your old life, the structure of society and sleeping in a bed. But the freedom that your current life offers is unmatched.

You've made it all the way up to the cliffs now. It would probably be safe to stick around, surely you're far enough away by now. But an itch under your skin urges you to keep running, to get far away so that they will never find you. Pushing the doubts out of your mind, you whistle, and hear a bark in answer from your Australian Shepherd, Marley. He's running beside your black thoroughbred, Ares, just as eager as you to set up camp for the night. 

After some convincing that the law won't find you this far north, you slow Ares down to a trot, passing by a lightly wooded area along the train tracks. Beyond the trees is a small opening. It's big enough for you to comfortably set up a little camp, but wooded enough to protect you from the near constant drabble of rainfall, and more importantly any wandering eyes from the tracks. You deem the spot safe for the night, whistling for Marley to follow as you trot through the treeline.

It's been a tough few weeks. Your clothes have been growing a little looser around your frame, and your little stash of money from your father’s savings has depleted to nothing. You don't know how to hunt, you're from the city. With no means to get food, your options have depleted to two: steal or starve. There's already a bounty on your head and you don't plan on increasing it, but you know what they say about desperation. Twice now you've stolen saddlebags off of tethered horses in search of food or money. You've rationed your supplies enough to get you this far, but now? Well you're pretty well screwed. 

Hopping down from Ares with a pat of gratitude, you reach into one of the stolen saddlebags in search of something useful. Something soft touches your hand, and you pull out some clothes. There's two shirts and two pairs of jeans. With a sigh, you shove the clothes back into the bag. They're of no use. They're way too big for you, but maybe you can repurpose the cloth later. You step around Ares’ backside to reach into the other side of the bag. Luckily, you find two pieces of salted beef. 

“Well, we got dinner, boy.” You smile, tossing one up into the air and watching as Marley catches it in his mouth. 

You don't have a tent, never got one after escaping Saint Denis, and you don't have a bedroll either. So as per usual, you opt to find shelter under a large oak tree, laying on your saddle blanket and resting your head on your saddle in the dirt. It makes a decent pillow, and it provides Ares with some relief for the night. After finishing your dinner, you eye your boys. Ares is lying in the grassy patch ahead of you, enjoying the subtle rainfall after a long day’s run, and Marley curls up in the grass at your side. 

“Don't worry boys, we’ll find somewhere more permanent soon, alright?” You whisper to them, almost drifting to sleep. You try to stay awake to watch the night. The moon is so full, so bright, unlike any night you’ve seen before. It's equally beautiful and mysterious. The grass dances in the breeze, shining under the moon’s white light while being tapped by slow sprinkling rain. Your eyes slip shut… and Marley barks. 

You know Marley. He’s your best friend, and Marley only barks at danger. Immediately you sit up on the saddle blanket, gripping the handle of your knife out of instinct. 

“What is it boy?” You whisper, scanning the treeline to no avail. Ares has stood up, and is whinnnying, stomping his feet and tossing his head in trepidation. 

Every hair on the dog’s back is standing straight up, and he bares his teeth towards the eastern side of the forest with a low growl. Your brows knit together, as you see no lights or signs of anything. 

“Marley, what's the matter?” You coo, reaching out to calm the dog, but he's too quick. He barks, and takes off into the east side of the forest. 

“Shit, Marley!” You yell after the dog. 

With a sigh, you run over to Ares, not even bothering to put the saddle back on. You sit on him bareback, quickly urging the stallion into the forest after your dog. It's difficult to navigate the dark forest, but Ares needs no guidance as he weaves around trees and jumps over fallen logs after your dog. You have to hang on for dear life as he jumps a particularly large log, as it's much harder to sit without the aid of your saddle. Slowing Ares down to a slow trot, you stick two fingers on your lip and whistle as loud as you can. It's too dark to see anything, and the rain has picked up, soaking your hair and causing rivulets of water to drip into your eyes and drench your clothes. 

You hear his returning bark, and you spur Ares in the direction of the familiar sound. After cantering around a few more trees, you spot Marley. He’s cowering on the ground, shaking with his head on the ground in submission. At first you’re afraid he’s been hurt, and you jump down from your stallion to approach the dog. 

“Marley…?” You whisper, slowly approaching him. 

The breath leaves your lungs when you hear it; The loudest howl you have ever heard. It’s mangled and painful, and so, so close. Your heart beats rapidly, time slows, and you can feel the moment its eyes are on you.  Slowly, you turn around. 

In front of you is the largest wolf you have ever seen in your life. Well, you’ve never seen a wolf other than in the paper but this wolf- there's something different. It’s a male, surely the alpha of his pack, if he has one. He has a sandy blonde coat, broad head and shoulders, and even standing on all fours, the wolf is almost as tall as you. But the most stark detail is his eyes. They are bright, a green-blue mixture that can be compared to the blend of the tide and the sky. There’s something so human about his gaze that you’re almost knocked to the ground by its strength. The wolf’s eyes are locked onto your own, and it tries to step towards you, but stops suddenly and cries out in pain. Your eyebrows draw together, and you step around the right side of the massive wolf. His eyes stay on yours, and suddenly you feel no fear. It’s like you’re supposed to be here, you're supposed to find him. It causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and a dull pressure to buzz in your chest, but you ignore it, continuing your observation of the animal. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” You whisper under your breath upon the sight of his mangled, bloody back leg. It's caught in a particularly nasty bear trap, who knows how long he’s been stuck here. You eye the wolf carefully for a moment, and when you sense no aggression, you step forward. The trap is a pressure lock, and you can dismantle it with your bare hands. Determined, you wipe your hands on your jeans. 

“Alright, now I’m gonna set you free, but you can't eat me, okay?” 

You swear the wolf chortles at your comment, and you lean down in the mud, pressing down on the bear trap with all your might. It clicks a few times, meaning that it’s close to opening. You stop pushing the trap and gasp in shock when you feel the wolf press his nose into your waist, inhaling deeply as if he is savoring your scent. You stutter, and quickly continue pressing down on the trap until it fully snaps open. The wolf takes one full deep breath of your scent, and then throws his head up towards the full moon and howls. It's so loud that your ears almost hurt, but it's not nearly as strong as the pressure in your chest, the unfamiliar buzz that is threatening to rip you in two. You clutch at your rib, gasping in shock when the wolf brings his head back down to look into your eyes. The wolf’s blue irises have been replaced with two deep crimson circles that stare back at you. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear it. But just as quickly as you found him, he is gone. He turned tail and ran, limping away on three legs. You’re left in shock, mouth agape, sitting against the wet forest floor.

— two weeks later —

You search through the bottom of the same leather bag that you’ve checked three times, foolishly hoping to find some food for you and Marley. You need to find something soon, or you’re going to have to venture into town, which may or may not end up with your neck in a noose. With a sigh, you toss the bag on the ground by your campfire. Tears threaten to fall as you pet your shepherd dog, apologizing for the lack of dinner. Ares is already laying in the grass, and you decide to hit the hay as well. Like every night, Marley curls up beside you while you try to fall asleep. His steady breathing, and eventually his snores almost lull you to sleep, but you’ve been having trouble sleeping. For the past two weeks all you’ve been able to think about is him. You know what he is now, you remember the stories that your Pa used to tell you. The legends of beasts in the west, far more dangerous than the outlaws inhabiting it. Well, they weren’t just stories. You think of him every night, wondering why he ran, why he’s this far east in the first place. Tonight is no different, in fact the ache in your ribcage is especially strong tonight. You’ve felt it ever since that night. 

Eventually, you’re able to quiet your mind, blinking foggily as sleep overtakes your senses. Just as your eyes begin to flutter shut, two blue circles blink from behind the treeline, and then you fall asleep. 

— the next day —

The evening sun wakes you up, surprisingly warm despite the cold day. The light filters through the trees, casting your face in a yellow glow. You'd slept almost the entire day, but you needed it. You haven't been sleeping well, too busy thinking of the wolf. You yawn, sitting up and stretching your arms before checking for your boys. Marley is chewing on a stick beside the charcoal left over from the campfire, and Ares has his head to the ground, grazing on some fresh grass. As you go to stand up, something fiery red catches your eyes and you snap your neck in its direction. About five feet away from your makeshift bedroll is a fox. It's been killed, perfectly hunted in such a manner that the pelt is in perfect condition. With your brows drawn together, you lean over and pick up the fox. Two neat, large canine teeth marks have punctured the animal's neck. 

This was him. 

You're overcome with relief at the fact that he's okay. After he'd run off you weren't sure where he went, or if he had a pack, and someone to fix his wound. You've been thinking about the man for weeks, wondering what he looks like, sounds and acts like, what his name is. Quickly you pull out your hunting knife, taking your time to skin the animal neatly. Every cut is articulate, something you learned from working for the trapper in Saint Denis. You know how to clean, cut and cook an animal, just not how to actually hunt one. You rest the red pelt fur down against the dirt to dry, and then get to work on your fire. Marley brings you back enough twigs and sticks to get a fire going, and before long you're placing nice cuts of meat over the fire, cooking a decent meal for the first time in a while. Marley seems grateful as well, coming over to the campfire to check on the food with his mouth watering. 

It's a good breakfast, well dinner. You don't have much to season the meat with, but a few pieces of oregano manage just fine. You and Marley share the fox, saving the rest of it for the following days. With the day pretty much over before you've even started it, you pull out your journal. 

Ever since that night in the woods, I feel this ache. It's like a rope. I don't understand it much, but… it's pulling me to him. I know it is. He left me a fox- first good meal we've had in a day. That's gotta mean something, right? 

Your fountain pen stops on the paper, and some ink pools out of it, leaving an ink blot. Your eyes widen at the sound of a twig snapping, and the feeling in your ribs intensifies. You carefully close the leather journal, setting it down on the ground before pulling your knees up to your chin and smiling. 

"Come out. I know you're here." You call out boldly, standing up from the ground and facing the forest in the direction of the snap. You can feel eyes on you, but you can't pinpoint his exact location. Behind you, Ares begins to spook, pawing at the ground and snorting in irritation. Marley growls, and you follow his gaze until you see the wolf. 

He's even more beautiful in the daylight. Now you can really see the contrasts in his coat color, like brindle between tan and brown. His eyes are just as striking without the added glow from the moon, and now they shine bright blue. He steps out from the forest slowly, head down to placate you. He steps right up to you, almost eye to eye. The buzzing in your chest is so strong, like the rope is pulled so tight that it's on the verge of snapping. 

"You ain't no regular wolf… I've heard the legends, but I didn't think there would be any of you this far east…" 

The wolf's eyes close and he nudges his head into your side, one again inhaling your scent. You're not sure why he does it, but you don't mind. Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to the wide spot between his ears. You expected his fur to be coarse, but you're wrong. It's soft, like thick layers of silk. Your hand glides over his head, petting his ears while he leans further into you. 

"Thank you for the fox." You whisper, smiling sheepishly at the familiar stranger. 

Slowly, he turns around, going towards where your saddle blanket is laid out on the ground. He gently takes the serape blanket in his maw, backing up and dragging it with him until he's a bit away from you, hidden in the shadows of some trees. You watch on, confused, turning around a few times to coo to your animals. You can hear some growling, some uncomfortable joint cracking, and then to your surprise, the exasperated groan of a man. Your eyebrows dart up in surprise, and your jaw drops when he steps out of the shadows. 

He's the most attractive man you've ever seen. His wolf form is a perfect match to his human form, he has tanned, sun-kissed skin, peppered with freckles. He's covering the lower half of his naked body with the blanket, but it doesn't hide his strong, chiseled chest. Clearly he takes care of himself. His build is muscular and broad. His hair is the same sandy blonde as his wolf's coat, and those eyes, they're just as beautiful now as they are as a wolf's. You don't realize that you're staring until he talks.

"You ain't afraid of me?" He questions, almost unbelieving that you haven't run away yet. His brows knit together just enough for a petite line to make itself evident on his forehead. 

"No… you've been nothing but kind and you've helped me. Hell, you coulda ate me." You chuckle. 

At the mention of that night, you remember the trap and his injury.

"How's your leg?" You ask. Your eyes move down his right calf and you see a freshly pink, rough scar marking the wound where only two weeks ago he was torn into. No human could ever heal that fast, it must be a werewolf thing. 

"S'healed. Got fixed up in no time." He says, drawl low and deep. He moves over towards the fire and sits on the ground, you follow. 

"What are you doin' out here anyway? Ain't safe, 'specially not by yourself." He inquires, making sure he's covered with the blanket as he looks to you for an answer. 

You're not sure how you know, but you know that you can tell this man the truth. And yet you find yourself hesitating, so instead you rebuttal his question. 

"I could ask you the same, mister." You quirk, smiling a bit as Marley trots over to sit by you.

"Well what's your name, then? Finally get to speak to ya, I should know your name." You ask. 

You're shocked that somehow your manners slipped and you forgot to introduce yourself, but the introduction feels… odd. It's like you've known him for years. You tell him your name, to which he smiles, nodding his head like he approves, or is proud of it. 

"My name's Arthur Morgan." He chortles. As if the situation isn't indecent enough, you just remember that you have an extra pair of larger clothes from the stolen bag that might fit Arthur perfectly. 

"Oh, I have some clothes that might fit you. Don't even bother askin' how I came about these but- should be clean and hopefully your size." You say, standing up and grabbing the stolen saddlebag of clothes. Your boots squish in the wet grass as you bring the bag over to Arthur. 

He takes the bag, and with no shame, drops the blanket to the ground. 

Oh. 

So apparently the part of his body that was earlier covered by the blanket was the best part. You can't help it, and he doesn't mind. You watch as he grabs clothes from the bag. There's a trail of soft brown hair that trickles from his chest hair and dips down to the base of his shaft. You gulp, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to look away from the absolute masterpiece that rests between his legs. 

When Arthur is decent, you turn around, cheeks still flushed bright pink from shock and embarrassment. He hands the saddle bag out to you, which you take and toss back towards your saddle on the ground. Both of you glance to the west, realizing that the sun is setting and it will be dark soon.

"I better get goin'. It'll be dark soon…" Arthur whispers, as if there's something he wants to do or say but can't bring himself to. His eyes look to the ground, and he tips his head to you before turning around. 

To his surprise, you grab his wrist. The tether between you two grows so strong that it hurts. 

"Arthur, please don't go. Why don't you stay the night? Head back to wherever it is you go to in the morning." You practically whimper. 

He doesn't even have to think, of course he'll stay, for you he will.

— four hours later —

The night is cold, very cold. The combined effect of your lack of coat and the slowly approaching winter doesn't help. You're curled into the tightest ball you can manage, hugging your knees and shivering. It's miserable, the type of cold that seeps into your bones. Arthur had shifted before laying down for the night, and you can hear his steady breathing behind you. He hasn't slept all night. You've drifted in and out of sleep, but he has stayed awake all night, watching you, protecting you, checking the perimeter a few times. 

As soon as you begin to shiver, Arthur stands up. He circles you a few times, whining as if he is debating with himself over something. But as you whimper, miserable from the night's cruel nature, Arthur trots over. He lays at your back, and you practically moan at the relief. Arthur is so warm. You turn around, curling yourself into him. His fur is like the softest blanket you've ever felt, and his body radiates heat. It's cathartic. 

"Why are you helpin' me? Bein' so kind?" You whisper, nuzzling your nose into his warm fur.

Arthur presses his wet nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent once again. Just like the first night you met him, the color in his eyes bleeds to red. It's beautiful, and you look into them, curious about the change of color. You can feel that tug in your chest again, it's strong tonight, but you ignore it, pressing yourself into his frame until blissful sleep finally overcomes you. 

When you wake up he's gone. 

— twelve days later —

Arthur… I saw him up on the ridge above my camp today. I don't know if he runs in a pack, or why in the hell he's so far east, but… he keeps an eye on me. I swear I see those green eyes just beyond the treeline when I fall asleep. I can feel his presence when he's nearby, like something is pulling me to him. I have this drive to be around him in a way that I can't explain, like I need him… but I haven't seen him since that cold night. 

You steady your hand, focusing on the old oak tree ahead of you. As you exhale, you release the knife, smiling as it lands directly into the thick trunk of the oak tree. 

You trod over to the tree, bending down to pick up the few knives that you've lodged into the tree, and the two that landed on the ground. Marley barks excitedly, and you turn around to find the source. 

Arthur…

He steps out of the woods slowly, head held down as he approaches you in his wolf form. He's breathing heavily, as if he was running for a while to get here.  

"Been wonderin' why you haven't come to see me. Had me worried some hunter had you mounted on their wall." You joke, reaching out to pet Arthur's head. His eyes slip shut, and he pushes his nose into you, almost roughly, as if he needs this like a starved man. He once again inhales your scent deeply.

It's then that you notice something in his maw. Your eyebrows knit together as you hold out your hand. He opens his mouth, dropping a rolled up piece of paper and a wooden wolf into your hand. You're confused as to why he didn't just tell you whatever it is the note says, but you don't have time to ask as he turns tail and runs away, eyes red. 

"Arthur, don't go!" You cry out to no avail. 

The buzz in your chest grows as he runs and you ignore the ache, looking down to the items in your hands. The little wooden wolf is beautiful. It's been hand carved from a piece of oak and a knife. Tears well in your eyes as the ache in your chest grows, and you open the note. 

I'm sorry. I can't stay around you. It's hard to explain, but it's better if I leave you be. That ache in your chest, like something pulling you? I feel it too, and more than anything, I wanna be with you, but it's not fair for me to do that to you, darlin. ‐ Arthur. 

Rivulets of tears run down your cheeks as you sit on the ground, hugging your knees. You've been doing research, stopping into libraries to read books on legends of western wolves and lycanthropes. You've learned how they used to run in large packs, how they were hunted almost to extinction. But most importantly, you learned about their mates. 

They can't choose their mates, instead they are pulled together by the moon. You think over the feeling in your chest, how many times you've written about the invisible tether that  pulls the two of you to each other.

Is Arthur your mate…?

And if he is, why is he leaving you?

— two weeks later — 

The moon is full tonight, and all you can think of is Arthur. You know he'll be out running tonight, and you hope that he comes by. You haven't seen him in weeks, and it's only made your ache to be around him stronger. Maybe the moon will alter his control, drive him to come see you. You’ve been stopping in at libraries in town, sneaking just enough to hide your face from the passerbys. Every book on lycanthropes that you've been able to find has been thoroughly analyzed. You know why he’s hiding. And dammit, if he would just come back you could convince him to stay. You rest a stray leaf in between the pages of your book to mark your page before setting it down on the ground. Marley trots over and you chuckle as he lays down on your bedroll. 

It's late, past midnight as you stand up and start to dress down for the night. You’re not worried about wandering eyes, it's dark, and anyone who steps foot in your camp to look will be met with a bullet. You strip your jeans and shirt, standing bare in the grassy opening. You run your fingers through your hair, before reaching onto the ground for a clean shirt. Just as you go to grab the cloth, you hear it. A low, deep, growl resonates from the forest, it’s him. Through the opening in the trees you can see glowing red eyes, and relief washes over you. His crimson orbs are locked into the little wooden wolf that is tied around your neck. 

“I know why you left, Arthur, why you think it would be best for me.” You whisper, extending your hand out as Arthur steps out from the woods slowly. His paws are massive, expertly stepping over the terrain as he inches forward. 

“I've been reading and learning about wolves… I'm your mate, aren't I?” You say, barely above a whisper. Arthur leans in and licks your collarbone lightly. His eyes are so beautiful, deep red like roses. 

“I feel it all the time. It’s like a tether, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You sigh as Arthur just stands there, listening to what you’re saying. 

“Be great if I could hear what you’re thinkin’.” You bite a little, irritated that you are always talking but can never hear him. 

You watch as he shifts. It's a fluid movement, much more graceful than you would have expected, and in just a few moments he is standing in front of you. His eyes have returned to their soft blue, and you lean in to press your hand against his cheek. Both of you are completely bare before the other, and yet neither of you are uncomfortable. He looks to you with a question.  

“You would tie yourself, you would mate to a stranger?” He asks, eyes glowing red for just a moment on the latter half of the sentence. You chuckle at his misconception. Arthur gently takes your wrist in his hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the tender skin on the inside of your wrist. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Arthur, you’re not a stranger,” you chuckle, “In this time I’ve known you, you've shown me your character time and time again. I was hungry, cold, alone, and now I’m not.”

You both feel a buzz of electricity run through you, and Arthur groans deeply as he wraps his hands around your soft waist.

“Arthur, I- I need something, but I don’t know what it is. Please-” You moan against him, the tether clouding your mind. He presses his lips to your forehead, gently kissing down your temples. 

“I know what you’re feelin’ and I can make it better, but darlin’ you know how this works, right?” He asks, squeezing your hips a little. Something comes over you and you can't feel anything but him, you need him. 

“I want to be yours, Arthur.” You mewl, pressing your nose into his chest. Arthur growls so deep, it breaks you out of your trance for a moment. His blue eyes lock onto yours. 

“You look at me. Don’t let the bond fog your head, you want this?” He asks, gripping you tightly. 

“Yes.” You whisper with more clarity than you’ve ever felt. For the first time in your life, you feel at home. This is where you should be, what you are meant for. 

He’s yours

Arthur’s eyes remain locked onto yours as he lifts your wrist up to his lips. Your breath quickens in anticipation as he gently bites down on the side of your wrist. 

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Suddenly you are whole. You are part of something bigger, you are with him. His other half. Your souls are permanently bonded and you can feel him all around you. You gasp at the raw emotion of it all. The tether between you and him pulls even tighter for a moment before it snaps and releases. There is no need for it anymore, as you are one. Tears fall down your cheeks as you lean up to kiss Arthur. Everything is right when your lips crash together. He moves against you as emotions sweep through you like a wave, crashing and swirling together.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony

[winterchimez]

hi......yes im alive 😃

i'll be honest i don't really know where to start...so i might as well try my best to give a proper update for everyone on the dash and explain everything as i possibly can

so it's been a month (a little more than that) since i left and to put it simply i was at the lowest point in life, physically and mentally. a lot of irl matters happened; losing close ones and going through a tremendous amount of stress and pain has not made anything better. with that, i was on meds a lot; mentally, i was very unwell, and neither was my physical health any better.

i had to take a step away from all social medias i had, and even shut myself out completely and not talk to anyone, all because i just didn't have the strength and energy to do it. i've lost count on the amount of times i've broke down over the past several months (but May was the worst), and i just couldn't keep going on like this.

so i finally made the huge decision to quit my current job by the end of the year (my job played huge part on my health) so that's finally a huge burden off my chest. though, all of that fatigue and stress are now slowly getting to me (since i've held them in / ignored them for so long) so by the time i'm home i'm beyond exhausted to do anything else.

which also comes to the main point of all of this: writing. it's still a hobby that i absolutely love since a young age till now, and i have so much in store that i can't wait to write them! though with my current condition it's hard to determine when i'll be able to get back into it. i am somewhat working on one or two wips but it's going REAL slow, and i don't even know if they'll eventually see the light of day.

what i can promise though is i'll definitely write when i'm capable & feeling much better. i may or may not drop some fics once in a while, or that might not happen until i quit my current job but we shall see. i'm definitely planning on finishing all of the ongoing series (both here & on my other blog), writing the requests that you guys have sent in, and more collabs to come in the future!

so i humbly ask that you guys be patient with me, and i will be back when i can. i might hop into tumblr to check notifs once in a while, but know that i'm slowly coming back out of my shell so bear with me.

till then, take care yall & see you guys real soon. 🫶🏻💗

~ ally ❄️

[congregamus]

the usual

Today was surprisingly hard. I can't suss out what its problem was, but from the time I left the house until work was over, it was emotionally strenuous. I didn't plan to talk this out, but oh well. Here goes. Maybe it will help.

The Mystery is so deadly serious because it is quotidian — so total in scale of metaphor that there is nothing to do before it but shut the fuck up; though unfortunately, as will be immediately, abundantly clear, I am not able to do so. May it be to the betterment of all sentient beings, and not a burden to them, that it is thus and not otherwise.

Sometimes I delight to scandalize my colleague at Jesus Factory #2 who is still on a traditional monastic path. In the first place, I started our conversation today by denying the possibility of Unity, which is to negate mysticism itself, with which he, as Rohrian a disciple as ever has clicked a Rosary bead, will brook no business. He couldn't follow me into the conversation behind the fantasy of Unity. But that's OK. Language breaks there anyway.

And then, later, I said, "It is useful — even eventually necessary — to read the Ikon of the Trinity with the language of Schizophrenia." I was pleased enough with 1) the idea in the first place, which (surprisingly enough) had only occurred to me just then, and 2) with its concise construction, as well as 3) the barely suppressed shocking effect it had on the hearer that I didn't unpack it further.

But I should now.

We might well be shocked and surprised at reading the Trinity as an expression of the schizoid, for a schizophrenia diagnosis is a stigma (and yes, we should read "stigmata" there, too). Does not Christ bear all such "wounds"? In so naming this Ikon "Christ, Schizophrenic", we likewise name God.

However true it may be, this 'Bread' will turn many away (cf. John 6: 60). And_what_about_it_Ariana.gif, and all, I suppose. It doesn't change anything about the truth. It does change pledge units, of course lol, which are a different emphasis of "Truth."

In other news, I have rounded back to the opening and have finally slowed down from today enough at this point to recognize that the strenuousness was related to the fact that I have been 'in my body' more lately than I usually am, and I find the experience of connecting to my whole body exhausting, and then exhausting further still to re-connect the body to the brain, and to receive communications that come back to me from places like my liver and intercostal muscles, and then to clothe this pre-verbal, emotional stuff in language, which I find to be necessary, naturally, but also, sometimes rage- or sob-inducing, or at others, impossible to translate, which makes me feel like a failure.

But I did write a good poem the other day, and I did articulate this. I'm going to hold on to any wins for as long as I can.

[indescribeable]

Wait for your love I Chapter 1

So I made a post about this fic a WHILE ago now but I finally got around to writing the first chapter! This will be cross-posted on Ao3 if anyone would rather read it there! I really hope you guys like this and based on reactions and my motivation well lack there off we will see how this goes. This fic will also contain a few OC's Also, I know I keep saying this but to those who have asks still pending I am SO SORRY I just haven't had the motivation but I'm sure a lot of you feel me on that one ALSO TRIGGER WARNING this fic will eventually include smut and will explore topics of abuse, PTSD and non-con and eating disorders I will put lines like this ~~~~~~~~ above and below chapters that contain those subjects so please be aware of this! <3 Anyway hope you enjoy Also Yes Wait for Your Love by Ariana is at the bottom of this post as I got my inspiration for the fic itself and the title while listening to the song so I hope you enjoy it! <3

Mika had been through a lot of hardships in her life her father’s constant abuse, Lisette’s constant abuse, Andrew's constant abuse, the depression, the PTSD, the eating disorder and anxiety, the loss of her grandmother, the loss of her grandfather and even the trauma that came from finding 5 men bleeding on the floor of her newly bequeathed mansion and then that leading to being kidnapped and almost killed by a psychotic devil and then following that up with an incredibly angry succubus trying to take her boys away from her but this, this was harder. Watching the five men she had grown to love and adore in this world find their love with others. It had been just over 2 years since she had met the boys and only a few weeks into their stay with her she started to develop feelings for all of them that she hid incredibly well even from Damien and he could read minds. Weeks turned into months, months of pain being so deeply in love but watching them drift away, watching them each find someone they loved with their entire being, months of giving advice and reassurance that they in fact could love and that they had nothing to worry about, months of helping them plan dates, helping them solve arguments, helping them pick out gifts and then eventually engagement rings and wedding tuxedos all while slowing dying inside her heart shattering into a million little pieces.

When they each left to move on with her life she stayed strong. She put on a happy face, wished them all the happiness in the world and let them go until she was alone. The house felt so empty without them it was something she couldn’t bear anymore all she was doing was spiralling into self-pity and depression so she decided that if they moved on she needed to as well. Since James the eldest of the five brothers had taken over her grandfather’s company her father had no choice but to let her choose to do whatever she wished with her life. It was something she would be forever grateful for, so she focused on something she loved that helped her get her mind off everything. Mika had been taking dance lessons since before she can remember much to her father's dismay but to appease him she kept straight A’s a 4.0 GPA and took part in whatever ridiculous company events he wished along with taekwondo lessons, her grandfather also paid for all her dance lessons so that helped but her father was never 100% satisfied, he let her continue her lessons so that was something. After high school, she had managed to get full scholarships to multiple universities but the offer that shook her the most was her full-ride scholarship to Julliard the only problem being it was in New York. Sure she had received scholarships from some of the best dance schools in the country even from schools in Chicago but she had a choice to make. The boys or her future, she was beginning to reach her limit.

The boys obviously had no idea about how she felt about them though they did love her but like a sister. As such she was invited to every event, every meal and it was getting harder and harder to sit there and endure the torment of seeing them so happy with their wives not to mention she was the only one who seemed to notice how much they seemed to hate her bar Twila who was quiet yes but friendly and honestly incredibly sweet the perfect match for Damien and that hurt even more. Each new event was becoming more and more uncomfortable for her so she decided to accept the Juilliard offer if she was going to make it through the rest of her life she needed to get away. The boys were devastated upon finding out that she was moving away but were ultimately happy for her and wished her luck. The worst part was the smug look on the wives' faces at the airport as she left and the tearful hugs shared between her and the boys but as she left she willed herself not to look back she couldn’t because if she did she would never have been able to leave so now hear she sat in her last year of university in one of the most magical cities in the world sure she was incredibly homesick and still missed the boys like crazy but she didn’t realise when she left for New york how deeply in love she would fall in over the city.

It was getting close to Christmas so there was constant snowfall the city constantly changing between being covered in a white blanket of snow and brown and grey slush from all the foot traffic that came through it every day. Her dorm room was so nice heating and AC, crisp white walls though they were covered head to toe in posters and pictures, a lovely plush beige carpet, large bay windows looking out over the city and a decent amount of room considering the room was shared. Mika took the left side while her roommate Jada took the right. Mika was so nervous moving in and meeting her the first day but she turned out to be one of the warmest, kind and honestly badass people she had ever met. They were both vastly different but they managed to somehow get along incredibly well, Mika had a Japanese American background while Jada had an African American background, they both had very different tastes in everything from food to music but it was what they loved about each other they where honestly like each others missing halves in a way and Mika was beyond grateful for her. They spoke about anything and everything literally of course them both being witches helped that but Jada knew everything about Mika and her situation and let's just say Mika fears the day Jada ever meets the guys It’s incredibly fair to say she was not best pleased with the whole situation.

Mika was currently sitting at one of the windows in her dorm snuggled up under a fluffy blanket wearing a light brown teddy bear fleece paired with fur-lined black leggings, miss matched black and white fluffy socks and her hair was up in a loose bun. She was content happily cupping a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands watching the small puffs of snow flying past her window. Thankfully her ankle was now out of its cast but it still wasn't 100% yet after what happened.

Mika thanks to her father's treatment never allowed herself to rest she was always pushing herself trying to be what she believed was good enough though she’s never actually got to the point where she thought that she was enough. She had been skipping meals, overworking herself and pushing herself beyond her limits, Jada always liked to say one day she would end up working herself to death and to be fair she wasn't far off being correct in that assumption. Mika ended up truly pushing herself too far over the edge this time ultimately fainting in practice and breaking her ankle, she didn't know what was worse though a dancer hurting their ankle now causing them to have a constant weakness in their ankle broken or not or the fact that she did it 3 months before her final showcase, the showcase was basically the most important event in her life right now there would be scouts from multiple dance companies around the world coming to watch the performances, she needed to be there and she needed to be the best for her future career, the pressure was on but she could still say she was at least somewhat happy, this was something she had been dreaming of since she was a little girl and she would stop at nothing to get to the finish line if not just for her but her grandfather as well. He had been so supportive and put in so much work to help her pursue everything she wanted in life, dance her magic studies even her regular studies, the worst thing she could dream of would be letting him down and that would not be an option for her.

Before tears could start forming in her eyes over the memories of her grandfather she heard the lock to the door go before revealing a very cold and very displeased Jada. Her light blonde curly hair was shoved up in a messy ponytail the platinum locks matching incredibly well with her milk chocolate skintone. Her dark whiskey eyes were set in an unimpressed scowl though not directed at anyone in particular. Her large white puffer jacket black jeans and snow boots were covered in small flakes and her rosy cheeks were shining brightly in the light of the dormroom. Mika had to stifle a giggle at her very distressed and very dishevelled roommate.

“Someone doesn't look happy” Mika couldn't help the teasing smirk appearing on her lips.

“I HATE winter! It’s cold! And wet! And it's doing nothing for my hair!” Jada huffed the last few words struggling to rip the drenched puffer jacket off her slender frame eventually giving up sighing in defeat and blowing a stray curl out of her eyes.

“A little help over here!?” Mika chuckled before placing down her hot chocolate and untangling herself from the warmth of her blanket making her way over to help her friend escape the drenched jacket hanging it up to dry in the bathroom. Finally having escaped the offending clothing item Jada flopped onto her bed tiredly turning her head to look at Mika who had returned to her place at the window hot chocolate nestled back between her slender fingers.

“How's the ankle? Any improvements?” Mika turned to look at her in response a small smile on her face though there was still sadness in her eyes.

“It's getting there it hardly hurts when I put pressure on it anymore and I've almost completely regained my balance.”

Jada’s face lit up with one of her signature warm smiles her eyes slightly creasing at the corners. “Way to go girl! Im proud of you, you put in a lot of work but I still say you need a break” Mika scoffed turning her attention back to the window.

“I don't have time for a break the showcase is in just over a month and im completely behind on my practice not to mention that I haven't even been able to attend practice to watch the routine I planned out because Miss Sharp insisted I stay on “bed rest”.

Jada let out an exasperated sigh sitting up on her bed before getting up and making her way over to sit across from Mika at the window shoving her legs under the blanket with Mika and gently grabbing her hand with a serious look on her face.

“Look Meeks I love you, you know I do but the whole reason you are in this mess is because you weren't taking care of yourself, even if your ankle fully heals within the next few hours you still won't be ready physically to come back to practice, look you have already choreographed and planned out the entire show and Aiko and I have made sure everything is how you want it to be. You need a break. I think you should go home for Christmas.”

Mika looked as if she had been struck eyes wide in fear, Jada of course knew everything about the boys and that whole situation they had become so close to each other that they basically knew all of each other's secrets and she knew how hard it had been for Mika.

“Are you insane?! There is no way im going home.” Mikas face softened from surprised to sad “I can't do it, Jada, it hurts too much.”

Jada let out a sad sigh before lightly squeezing Mika's hand with hers. “Look I know that it's hard for you but you can't keep avoiding them forever even if they seem to be avoiding you.” The last part of that sentence was spoken with icy venom, Mika had tried to get in contact with the boys multiple times but the calls either ended up going to voice mail or somehow the boy's wives always ended up answering, she had tried their house phones, personal phones even work phones but she could never get through. It saddened her not getting to hear their voices, there were times during her stay at uni when she really needed them, needed to hear them, needed to hear their reassurance and the warmth in their voices but she was never successful.

“Girl look first things first you miss home, you miss Naomi and Suzu heck you even miss the little cafe you always used to go to, you wouldn’t just be going to see them, you can't let their dumb ass decisions rule your life plus you might be able to figure out what the hell is going on, based on everything you’ve told me I wouldn’t think they would treat you like this and that means a lot coming from me based on the way I feel about them” Jada emphasized the last bit of her sentence causing a light chuckle to pass through Mikas lips.

Mika set down her hot chocolate for the second time reaching over to give Jada a tight squeeze which was reciprocated immediately. “What would I do without you?”

Jada chuckled before responding. “I don't think either of us would like to find out the answer to that question but im gonna take that as a yes?” She finished her question with a hopeful lilt to her voice.

Mika untangled herself from Jada’s arms sitting back and giving her a gentle nod and warm smile. “Yes, I'll go home already geez I didn't realise you were that desperate to get rid of me.” At that, Jada gave Mika a light punch to the arm causing Mika to lean back rubbing her arm and feigning a hurt expression.

“Ohh, please! I didn't even hit you hard!” Both girls chuckled at finally separating for the night.

Jada headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed and Mika making her way over to her desk flipping open her laptop the blue light of the screen illuminating her face a few seconds after the power button was pressed. She searched through multiple sites for affordable plane tickets for what felt like hours, unfortunately, everything went up in price around Christmas time so it was exceedingly hard to find the ticket she wanted for a fair price. Eventually, though she managed to find the ticket she wanted at a fairly reasonable price, well as reasonable as it was gonna get at that time of year quickly purchasing them waiting for the confirmation email and then shutting her laptop and heading to bed for the night. Nerves raced through her body at the thought of going home but finally, she drifted off nervous for the days to come.

[pbandjesse]

I am very tired. And today was not just boring. Plus the rain. It was just a long day.

I didn't even sleep great. I fell asleep pretty easy. But woke up at 2 and had a really hard time falling back asleep. So I ended up sleeping later then planned. And went in a little late.

James left before I was up. I got up and it was still raining. I tried to dress comfy today and warm. And I do like this fleece but man did rain cut through it and stick around. Good to know for the future.

I drove to camp and still beat everyone there. I was in a weird mood. I didn't really want my breakfast and I struggled to eat. I would get into sewing my bears. I would work on those throughout the day and would eventually finish all 10 I had gotten ready. And I love how they came out.

I would get more of my lessons done. I just really don't want to write the descriptions. I just am so bored thinking about that. But I would get everything else written out best I can. And that was good. I felt like I was accomplishing stuff.

Eventually everyone else came in. And I would get some other tasks. Like going with Nick, who wasn't told the feildtrips was canceled, up to the art building. Where he helped me move some stuff around that was to heavy for me to do on my own. It was raining and very loud in that building with it's tin roof. But we chatted about tv shows he likes and about how I have actually watched movies this week which is so unusual.

I would mostly spend time at my desk. Celia would come in to feed the animals and she worked on the nature lessons some more. And it was nice to be silly with her. We have great banter. We would all learn more about tomorrow's feildtrip which I think is going to be fun. And I worked on sewing the edges down on my temperature blanket.

Once I finished that and was bored of poking around online, I offered to go clean the girls latrine from it's unwinterization. Sarah hadn't come back after a walk to the barn so I was also just looking for her.

And I did find her. And let her know I was looking for her. She apparently fell in the mud and went to Rachel's house to change. Fair. Glad she has that option.

I would sweep and spray the bathrooms and showers. And it honestly wasn't that dirty. Would be better if we vacuumed out the ceiling I think. But it's much better now.

I got back to the office and after some more lesson plans work Elizabeth said something about setting up the hacienda. And I was bored so I just went and did it myself.

The rain has slowed. And I walked up to the pool house. I had music going and spent a half hour setting everything up. It was hard work to do alone but the 90 chairs were set and I really hope that means I don't have to help out then away tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

As it got closer to 330 I decided I was bored and couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to go to target and go home.

And so that's just what I did. I checked in about tomorrow morning. And Elizabeth asked me to look out for some specific camping stuff at target. And then I was off.

I went to the target in cockeysville. And I didn't bring my headphones inside and it wasnt as enjoyable but it was still a nice stop. I got new body wash and toothpaste and a new Vaseline stick. I got cheese for dinner and kitty litter for my cat. And then went to check out.

Which took forever and the woman in front of me had a fake settlement gift card. And was an older woman, clearly getting scammed. I hope she isn't loosing money to someone.

I took moments to pay and get out of there. Speedy. And then it was time to go home.

It was raining again. So it took a half hour to get home stuff. I got home right before 5.

I struggled to park but quickly I was inside. I was happy to see my James. Even if the house smelled stuffy and weird.

James would get to work making pizza. And we would catch up and chat. And eventually I went to the studio to work on some sewing.

I found a simple pattern to emulate to make a mouse plush. So I cut a whole bunch of those and got them all sewn up over the next hour until dinner.

I would finish some ears after dinner. I wasn't in a rush. But it was really nice to get so much done.

James also made a salad. And we ate in the living room. James played some games. And we chilled.

Eventually James went to play a game with friends and I went back to sewing. And once I was done all I felt like doing, including putting eyes in, I cleaned up. I would also pull out some printing stuff for tomorrow. Realized my mats were still inky so I cleaned those good. And once I was done I went to take a shower.

I was really tired and felt weird but the shower got warm at least and I used my new body wash. Which is vanilla and amber and smells sort of like a man. But it's still nice and made my skin very soft.

And now I am in bed. And James joined me. And I am very really to sleep. I am going to go brush my teeth.

Tomorrow I have a feild trip and I'm looking forward to it. I hope it's a really nice day. I hope you all sleep well and take care of eachother. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[theteasetwrites]

🎇What's coming in 2023...🎆

Happy holidays, and happy new year!

Sorry I haven't been super active lately. I have been pretty busy with my job, and to be honest, I got a little burnt out from the drama (which I caused lol).

But a new year is upon us, and I know that they say just because it's a new year doesn't mean it's a new you, but I do feel like there is an air of new beginnings. That being said, I have some exciting stuff planned for 2023!

Here's what I am hoping will be coming out in 2023:

The last chapters of The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning! I am planning on finishing my big series in the first few months of 2023. And these last chapters will lead into...

The Daryl spin-off series! Even though The Beginning is ending (lol), I am going to continue the story of Reader and Daryl in the sequel series, which will cover the events of the Daryl spin-off (in France... yikes). I am really excited to do this series, and to hopefully make this train wreck of a show into something enjoyable lol. I am planning on working on this once the spin-off premiers, so stay tuned...

Merciless Beauty mini-series! This is a knight!Daryl x princess!Reader mini-series (I know... bear with me ok). I just really want to do a medieval vibe, and I already have pretty much everything that's going to happen in the series planned out (and the first chapter already started...) so this is definitely happening. I am going to start working on this guy once I finished The Beginning.

Thy Saints Surrounded! Hopefully, I will actually finish it this year lol. Sorry I am so slow about updating it. I think I just always have it on the back burner. I promise I will (eventually) finish it though.

More oneshots! Of course, I have lots of ideas for oneshots, both standalone ones and ones that take place in The Beginning universe. I also have many requests to get to... They've been sitting in my inbox for so long ugh I'm sorry guys. I will try to get to as many as I can.

Lots of other stuff! So excited to start the new year, and hopefully a new era too. A new era of positivity and not starting shit I shouldn't start.

My ultimate goal for this new year is to focus on writing and not making an ass out of myself. <3 Lets see if I can actually do that lol. Love you guys.

[solarpire]

Hello, optional tag game here! List 5 things that make you happy. Then if you want, you can put this in the askbox of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Learn about your mutuals and followers~

Ohh this sounds fun! Ok ok

1. Trying new foods. Especially fun drinks. I cannot get enough of fun new flavors. I've discovered I really like brazilian cheese bread (unfortunately dont remember the name, but it's such a nice squishy texture), sweet potato fries, chicken hearts, chicken katsudon, taro boba (when it's made well, some people make it very rubbery and flavorless(and I LOVE when I can get cream cheese foam on it)), cheesecake, melon flavored drinks, lychee flavored drinks, and calpico to name a couple things. I used to be really picky when I was younger, so I'm really happy I'm at a place where I'm comfortable trying new stuff :)

2. New hobbies. I really love finding new things to do with my hands, it just feels good to see the evidence of something you've worked hard on. I've tried sculpting, carving, jewelry making, bone cleaning, sewing, book binding, writing, baking, acting, etc etc. I just love figuring out how something new works. Atm I really want to get into fursuit making, game making, car maintenance, and getting better at writing. I've got two different stories on the back burner, a queer slasher horror book and a horror dating game about people in different fields of medicine/science (I really havent worked much on either, but they make me happy to think about and talk about. If anyone is interested in hearing about either just lmk ^^)

3. Being butch. This is a part of my identity I've only recently become comfortable identifying with, I was worried it shouldn't be for me seeing as I identify as nonbinary and tend to be attracted to men and nonbinary people more often than women, but now I feel so at home in it. Loving others and loving myself has just felt so much more authentic through this new perspective on my identity. I love being butch, I love the way my body looks, how I am big and strong and soft and fuzzy and made for loving and caring for the people around me, I love my relationship with queer masculinity, and how it doesnt restrain me from taking joy in my queer femininity when I feel it, I love the way it makes me feel when I clean or fix or make things, when I use my hands, I love how I look with my boots jeans belt and carabiner with a little bear tag on it, I love taking care of my loved ones and making sure they know they're cared for, and I love the way I am loved for it. Butch boy bear girl is just who I am 👍

4. Tattoos. I plan on eventually going into tattooing as a job! Theres a couple things I have to get taken care of before I start seeking out an apprenticeship, but I want it more than anything. I feel like I would really enjoy the medium, and helping people decorate themselves in whatever way is personal to them, whether it's got a deep personal meaning, or they just think itll look nice on them. I think helping people feel that freedom of identity is such an honor and I cant wait to get there

5. My partners. YEAH ITS CHEESY IK. But I just got into a new relationship with two more people that have been my closest friends for a few years just a week or two ago after getting to meet them in person for the first time. We're taking things slow, but all three of them just make me so so happy, and seeing how happy they are with each other makes me even more happy, and I'm so glad and grateful that these wonderful lovely people are in my life (I wont name or @ any of them for their privacy, but if any of you see this hiii ❤❤❤)

[diaryoftheunidropout]

DAY 2

I'm waiting for the metro that'll take me to see my uni best friend. A voice on the speaker said they were going to read a few verses of poetry. The voice was very sweet and the poem about being in a maze and not searching for a way out. I hope I hear it again because I'd love to be able to write down more of what it said.

I have no idea how I'm going to tell my best friend that I'm dropping out. We're spending the evening together, and I can either tell them as soon as I see them, or while we're having dinner, or only at the very end of the evening when we're parting ways. I'm afraid if I tell them straight up, it'll ruin the evening for the both of us, but if I don't get it off my chest ASAP, I fear I'll be anxious the entire evening and won't get to enjoy myself at all. We'll see. But I don't want them to ask me questions like "have you revised for the test" and having to lie to that, and only tell them the truth later on.

Since I made the decision to drop out, I've felt three different emotions: 1) relief 2) guilt 3) sadness. Today I've been feeling very sad, maybe a little lost too (and for the past 10 minutes, probably a bit angry because the metro is packed and parisians are really slow and someone accidentally stepped on my feet, but that's another story).

I haven't fully grasped why I feel sad yet, but I think it might be because I've dreamed and fantasized about this moment for so long that I subconciously convinced myself I would heal immediately (not true obviously). I think I may still feel guilt about resting, like I don't actually deserve it. I don't know. All of this is a lot of process. I'll keep updating this blog!

UPDATE 4 AND A HALF HOURS LATER:

The announcement to my uni best friend went kind of wrong, which didn't help with the fact I was already feeling like utter shit. I didn't tell them right away, I waited until we were sat at the restaurant but hadn't ordered yet. They reacted very calmly but I could feel they were disappointed. They tried to make me change my mind but quickly enough they understood that was impossible. They told me all the things that could go wrong with my plan (not being able to find a job, not healing, hating my new studies and not being able to keep up...) and no matter how many times I said this was a life or death situation for me, they didn't seem to understand the gravity of it all. I'd say the first 20 minutes of our dinner were really tense, but then we were able to mostly change the subject and things felt a little more like they usually do.

But looking back on the entire evening now, I think that, mostly, they're angry at me for "leaving them behind", which really puts me in a Nick-Nelson-in-Volume-5-and-in-the-Nick-and-Charlie-novella type of situation. And this just puts me down even more because on top of having to bear the guilt of dropping out and the fear of the unknown and all the sadness that I ended up in this situation, I also have to deal with the knowledge I'm probably hurting someone I love and care about. Maybe I'm misinterpreting, but I think they're just afraid me leaving uni means I'm giving up on our relationship, when really I am NOT. I think I could see their anger through all their tiny "mean" jokes that they never usually do, like telling me I'm "boring" out of nowhere. It's so obvious to me that we'll remain friends... and it seems like it isn't to them. I hope that just like Nick and Charlie, our relationship survives this, and that eventually, I gain their full support. We're mature enough to talk. If they won't tell me what's on their mind and heart, I will. But right now, I'm saddened by their reaction and it just makes me want to distance myself, which is the opposite of what I intended to do in the first place. I want to believe fighting for our relationship is worth it.

Also, someone I was really hoping to get encouragement from regarding me dropping out didn't reply to my message although I saw they've been online... they might have just missed my message, or I don't know. I think that would have cheered me up a little.

Now I still need to tell my grandparents, my other uni friends, and my Chinese teacher whom I loved very much. That's for another day though. I'm so mentally exhausted from today.

Bye for now xx

"I think that I love you but it's hard

Just to be around you

Don't hate me, but you're not

Don't hate me, but you're not what I thought you was

Don't hate me, but you're not

Don't hate me, but you're not what I thought you was

You said that I'm really fucking boring

Well that's rich coming from you

'Cause when you rain you're fucking pourin'

I can't win, I can't lose

And it's cool if you don' wanna hang and get loose"

[lawngnomeofdoom]

Part Six: when I'm near you

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 PT5 PT7

Warning: 18+ Smut!

Summary: Connor and Y/N finally manage to have some alone time together!

A/N: Thanks again to everyone for being so kind toward my writing. In regards to the taglist I feel super slow for not figuring out how to do that yet, so bear with me. I hope you enjoy this sauciest of chapters!

"Some other time” did not arrive as quickly as Connor had been hoping. You were seemingly being pulled in every direction at the station, your expertise becoming a commodity among the other officers. Connor admired your work ethic and your commitment to the other officers, but he couldn’t help but feel annoyed every time he tried to have a moment with you and it was cut short by someone demanding your attention or advice for their case. To make matters worse you would look at him with big puppy dog eyes that screamed, “I’m sorry” and he would make himself smile and tell you that it was alright, that he understood. He expressed his frustration to Hank who simply shrugged and said,

“Well, do something about it then.”

Connor took the advice in stride and came up with a plan. He knew that you usually got up to grab a snack from the kitchen around 2:00 pm, so if he positioned himself in the maintenance closet you passed around that time, he could pull you in for a private moment. Connor waited until he heard your soft footsteps across the tile and then quickly pulled you into the closet before you could process the action. You let out a small yelp but calmed when you saw who had grabbed you.

“Apologies for startling you Y/N, but I find myself displeased with our lack of time together, so I decided to steal you away, at least for a moment,” Connor explained. He noticed that he had you pinned against the wall and released his grip, much to your disappointment.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been spending time together Connor, I’ve just been so swamped.” You sigh and play with the loose strand of hair that falls over his forehead.

“I understand. But perhaps…” Connor says and places a hand over your head and angles his mouth toward yours.

“You can apologize another way.” He finishes eyeing your lips. Your heart begins to beat faster as your lips near his, and you see him smile.

“I sense your heart rate increasing, is that because of me?” He whispers into your ear, causing a shiver down your spine.

“Are you going to kiss me or analyze my vitals?” You tease him, embarrassed. His smile fades and he closes in, his lips on yours now. Connor has a hand on your side, and you feel it tighten as you pull him closer to you by his tie. He moves his lips down your chin and to your neck, forcing you to release a small moan despite your best efforts to remain silent. Connor pulls back for a moment, a satisfied grin across his face. As he goes back for more you put a hand on his chest and hold him at bay.

“Connor, this is…really really nice, but I am not having sex with you in the maintenance closet at work. I mean, at least not the first time.” You tell him regaining your breath. He forces himself back and straightens his tie.

“I didn’t mean to assume…” He starts, but you put a hand up to stop him.

“My place, 8pm, don’t be late.” You say with a wink as you exit the closet.

Connor knocks at your door at 7:55 pm, more purple roses in hand. You throw open the door immediately and pull him inside. He was going to tell you about the flowers, but his mind goes blank when he notices the black lingerie you’re wearing under a short lacey robe. He drops the flowers on your floor and hoists you into his arms.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“Second door on the right.” You say playing with his hair. As he carries you down the hall you plant light kisses down his neck and revel in his frustrated groans.

“Do you like that?” You whisper into his ear. He quickly makes it into the bedroom and gently lays you down, taking a moment to gaze over you before undressing himself. He throws his suit jacket to the floor and you lick your lips at the sight of him undoing his white button-up, revealing his lean physique underneath. From that moment he looks lost, and you don’t waste a second. You rise and push him to the bed deftly undoing his belt. He looks down at you, his expression a combination of mild terror and excitement as you take hold of his cock and move your hands up and down his shaft, eventually making circles with your tongue around his tip as you do. Connor throws his head back in a tremendous moan, and you decide to push him even further and wrap your lips around him and take as much of him as you can. He softly pats your hair as you do but as you increase speed it changes to a tangled grip in your hair, and he pulls you off.

“That is…more wonderful than I can say. Please, let me return to the favor.” He says and pins you to the bed with ease. He rips your bottoms off and begins to kiss your inner thighs, making you shudder. Finally, he rolls his tongue over your clit, painfully slow and you release an exasperated moan.

“Do you want to cum for me?” He asks, his voice low.

“Yes, please.”

“Keep begging.” He orders and slows his tongue movement; every touch becomes electric as you yearn for more.

“Connor…please…’ You beg and hear him chuckle against your skin. You gasp as you feel him slip a finger inside you, then another along with his tongue, and you can’t help but cum all over his eager licks. You lay there for a moment until he crawls up to you, the smuggest look you’ve ever seen plastered on his face.

“I thought you only used your tongue for police work.” You say between your rapid breaths. He responds by pulling you against him for a kiss, the taste of your climax on his lips.

“I made an exception.” He murmurs, beginning to tease you with the tip of his cock.

“You’re so goddamn wet.” Connor sighs, his grip tightening on your wrist.

“Connor, I want you inside me now,” You groan but he still resists the urge and continues to tease you with a coy smile on his lips. Finally, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him inside of you, making you both gasps.

“Holy shit.” Connor breaths out, his LED flashing rapidly. He manages to contain himself enough to start slow, but as you call out his name again, he thrust faster into you, enjoying the looks of pleasure across your face, all because of him. You tighten your grip around his waist again and flip him around so that you sit on top of him now. You move slowly up and down on his cock, making sure he can see himself going in and out of you.

“Faster.” He commands now, gripping the sheets.

“Beg me.” You whisper and raise yourself up so only his tip brushes against your wetness. Connor releases a frustrated growl and grips your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, making you cry out his name again. You’re moving with each other now as you bounce up and down, your walls tightening around him, he sits up with you, and as you both cum he pulls you in for a kiss. You collapse together on your bed, a mess of pleasure and moans. He lightly strokes your hair, and you listen to the soft pitter-patter of rain on your roof. You crawl up and kiss him softly on the lips, enjoying the way he looks at you like you are absolutely everything.

“Next time, we should try it on a desk.” He smiles.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 5)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: nearly 2.5k

warnings: vague description of a wet dream, some sensual implied stuff (??), 

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll​

In all your life, you’d never had a wet dream.  Not even in high school when so many of your peers were coping with puberty and budding sexuality in similar ways— not even when you’d wanted to have one about David Kapoor, the cutest guy in senior year who didn’t even know you existed but that you were somehow convinced was going to fall madly in love with you one day.  

It never did work out for you two, but you’d finally managed to have a wet dream.  This one, though, was about Sebastian.

In your dream he had cornered you in the kitchen, kissing you deeply before tossing you onto the table and— well, the rest doesn’t bear repeating.  It was all very ‘discount bin romance novel’ wasn’t it?  The exotic, rugged farm boy roughly taking the formerly-prudish businesswoman in the middle of the house, too deep in the throes of passion to care if someone walking by saw them.

You didn’t find it all that sexy by the time you woke up; moreso just humorous.  That’s preposterous, you thought to yourself, nobody’s ever gonna love me like that.

It was something your husband had said to you once.  You couldn’t even remember what the context was anymore, but clearly it had had an impact on you to be repeating it internally now.  Just last week, Mrs. Alberti had gotten on your case for speaking poorly of yourself.  Clearly, the things you said about yourself to others were nothing against what you said about yourself to yourself.

Your papers had only taken a day to dry, but the ink was pretty severely smudged.  Knowing your publisher wouldn’t accept them in a manuscript, you resolved to retyping the most damaged ones— a good mindless task to do while you pondered your next steps plot-wise.  You’d seen Sebastian less for the past week, and it was no accident; you’d been avoiding him because you were trying to nip this in the bud before it got any worse.  Your divorce isn’t final yet, you need to heal.  This is fantasy, not reality.  You barely know each other.  Your divorce isn’t final.  Your divorce.  Isn’t.  Final.

That was the mantra you found yourself repeating as you retyped the waterlogged sheets; so much for the plot-pondering plan, eh?

You heard someone coming up the stairs, and you knew it was him because the steps were coming too quickly to be Mrs. Alberti.  “Come in,” you instructed before he’d even knocked.  

“Bună ziua,” he greeted as he opened the door, leaning inside.  “Am pregătit cina, ai vrea să mănânci?”

“Hm?” you asked as you turned around in your chair, adjusting your reading glasses.  However, his question became more obvious through context when you saw he had oven mitts and an apron on, and was holding a wooden spoon.  “Oh, um, I’ll be down for dinner in a minute.  Soon.”  You held up a few fingers, hoping he would successfully interpret them into minutes.

“Arăți bine în ochelarii aceia,” he motioned, pointing towards you.

“I’m sorry… what?” you asked, not sure at all what he could be talking about.

“Ochelari. Sunt drăguți,” he re-emphasized, but it was useless as you gave him another confused look.  He sighed, straightening up a bit as he began a new method: “Îmi plac,” he said, pointing to himself and then giving a thumbs up, “ochelarii tăi,” he pointed to you, and then made circles with his fingers and brought them up to his eyes.  

You laughed a little, but you were pretty sure you got what he meant.  “You like my glasses?” you clarified, reaching up to wiggle them on your face a bit.

“Da,” he grinned.  “Pari inteligent.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, and he nodded back as he shut the door and his footsteps faded back into the kitchen.

Once a few more pages had been redone, you gave your hair a quick combing before heading down for dinner with Sebastian.  It smelled a little strange by the time you went downstairs, but when you swung open the door to the kitchen, you were instantly hit with a wave of acidic air, forcing you to wince and cough.  Even that didn’t help much, and you forced your eyes shut as they stung.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelped, “the fuck are you cooking?  Tear gas?!”

“Oțetul te irită?” he asked, not sounding as concerned as you would’ve hoped considering your obvious pain.  It was like you could taste it in the air, and it wasn’t until you managed to open your burning eyes again that you realized what it was: vinegar, in a huge jug right next to the pot he was boiling it in.

“You’re boiling vinegar?” you realized incredulously.  “God, Europeans are fucking weird.”

He just looked back at you with bewildered bemusement.

“In America,” you tried to explain, “we don’t eat vinegar.  We clean our floors with it.”  You pointed to the jug and made a motion meant to indicate scrubbing a surface, and he laughed a little.

“Americanii sunt prea sensibili,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, turning back to the stove to stir his pot of disinfectant which he apparently planned to serve you as a meal.  “Am avut ciorbă de oțet de când eram copil.”

You’d typically considered yourself an adventurous eater— even with vinegar-pickled things, like kim chi which you’d learned to acquire a taste for— but this one put you to the test.  Considering the smell alone had singed your sinuses, you were nervous what would become of your innocent tastebuds.  But after he served the soup (a dark orange color, so apparently it wasn’t just the boiled vinegar) into a bowl for you and another for himself, you found the taste of it oddly pleasant when you sipped it gently from your hesitant little spoon.

“Vezi, nu e așa de rău,” he smiled gently as he watched you fail to recoil in disgust from the flavor.

“Just like ma used to make, huh?” you chuckled as he ate the soup with incredible speed, even going as far as to lift the bowl to his lips and drink the last few sips that way.

Eating dinner in silence with him was unexpectedly comfortable.  “You wanna know something funny?” you found yourself mumbling aloud.  “I enjoy talking to you more than anyone I ever did back home, and you can’t even understand me.”

His smile softened as he stared back at you, apparently sensing the change in your tone as you spoke.

“See, right there, that’s it: you’re listening to me.  You know it’s useless, you know you won’t be able to tell what I’m talking about, but you’re listening anyways.  Over two billion English speakers on the planet and none of them have listened to me like you do.”

Then you heard yourself, and it was so heart-breaking that you had no choice but to laugh.  It was just a chuckle at first, but then you couldn’t stop it, even when you realized how confused Sebastian would be.  Everything is funnier when you know you shouldn’t laugh, and soon you could barely breathe as tears warmed your eyes from the force of it.

“I’m sorry,” you tried to spit out between your fits of laughter, but it was barely comprehensible anyways.  Sebastian began to laugh with you, if hesitantly and with a hint of confusion.

“De ce râdem?” he asked gently.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, calming down a bit, “I’m sorry I just… I was just imagining what my husband would say, if he knew I was here…” you trailed off as you laughed again, starting over.  “If he knew I was here, falling for someone I’ve never even spoken with.”  You shook your head, resting your face in your hands as you chuckled lightly.  “Oh, he’d hate this.  He’d tell me I was out of my mind.”

With a slow sigh, your laughter subsided as you wiped the wetness from your eyes.  

“He’d be right, but… I don’t really care,” you decided.  “He’s not here.  If he wanted to find me, he would.  And maybe it’s because he’d hate this that I’m having so much goddamn fun doing it.”

When you looked at Sebastian again, his face was serious, yet anything but stern.  Suddenly, you weren’t thinking about your husband anymore.  Of course you logically understood how odd this all was, how impossible it was for you to be slowly finding yourself in love with someone like him, but it felt right, and true, and real.  It made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense in every way that mattered.  

“I’ll help you clean,” you offered as you stood up, realizing you’d gotten lost in your train of thought and probably stared at him for a bit too long.  He stood up with you, helping you gather the used dishes and letting you wash them in the sink while he put the remaining soup in the refrigerator as leftovers for another time.  “I’ll cook for you tomorrow,” you promised, “something real bland, like the English cook.”

“Sper că nu intenționați să gătiți pentru mine cândva, nu suport mâncarea occidentală,” he mumbled as he continued to wipe down the countertop with a damp towel.

With the kitchen clean, you knew you should get back to writing your book, but you were compelled instead to read somebody else’s— so, as you slipped onto the couch with one of a few of your favorites that you’d brought with you, Sebastian summoned the same copy of Dracula you’d seen him reading a few times and took the loveseat.  Not much else happened after that, save for you shivering from a draft and him tossing a throw blanket on you.  

“Ce carte citești?” he asked you eventually, breaking the silence.  When you looked up, he was pointing at your book.  “Book?”

“Right,” you laughed, “I taught you that.  My book, uh, it’s good.”  You closed it, leaving your finger inside to mark your place as you showed him the front cover.  “On the Road?  Ever heard of it?”

He just cocked his head to the side.

“Jack Kerouac?” you continued.  “It’s about going on a long journey in search of… freedom.”

“Acesta este cel despre zombi?” he asked.

“Sure,” you nodded, wishing more than ever that you could know what he was saying.  He smiled and got back to his own reading.  Indulging yourself for a moment, you watched his face as it fell into a neutral expression while he read, his eyes trailing along the page as he continued to read.  You didn’t realize it, but when you returned to reading your own book, he got his chance to look at you.

A long day of writing meant you had more than earned an evening to relax by the fire; late summer became early fall, and early fall turned into the need for a fireplace so much faster than you’d anticipated.  The days were temperate, sure, but as the sun began to sink lower, so did the warmth.  You started your evening with a hot shower, though you didn’t let yourself get too greedy with the limited supply of hot water, knowing Sebastian relied on the same supply for his own baths.  When you finished, you dressed yourself in a fluffy lavender robe, feeling especially pampered when you put on a little moisturizer before heading downstairs to cozy up with the fire.  You were already getting chilly, the heat from the shower fading as your wet hair and bare feet cooled you quickly.  Therefore, it was more of a scurry to the fireplace, which you hadn’t expected Sebastian to be tending or you wouldn’t have come down in a robe.  He’d seen you in less (namely, his shirt and nothing else, which was horrifically embarrassing) but something about this felt more intimate, like all your defenses had been washed away in the shower, too.  Didn’t help that he was shirtless, again.  Wasn’t he cold in this weather?!  Must be all that muscle keeping him warm.

“Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Good evening,” you returned.  Stepping closer, you rubbed your hands together as you felt the hot air radiate towards you.  “It’s nice,” you sighed contentedly.

He smiled back at you, moving the logs slightly with the iron poker.  Sparks jumped and fell off as he shifted them, joining the ashes below— you’d always thought fire was so beautiful, even if it was dangerous, and you took in a long breath through your nose to smell the tinge of smokiness in the air.

“Te încălzești?” he asked quietly as he set the poker aside and stood beside you.  You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing through the fabric of the robe to try to warm up a little faster.  Seeing you shiver, he reached out and rubbed your arms for you, which made you tense up slightly before relaxing and breathing out.  “Mai bine?”

You nodded a little, your gaze drifting slightly.  

“Warm?” he asked, making your eyes jump back up to his.  You swallowed dryly as he looked back at you.

“Warm,” you repeated, “yeah.  Good job… when’d you learn that?”

He didn’t answer, watching your hands as they reached out for his arms, finally making delicate contact with his tanned skin before drifting up to his biceps, his shoulders, and finally his chest.  He put his own hands on top of yours and held them there, looking back at you as your heart started to beat rapidly and with no signs of slowing down.  “Warm,” he repeated, only slightly above a whisper.

“Oh yeah,” you agreed hoarsely, “very, very warm…”

He smiled a little; it wasn’t mischievous, it wasn’t conniving or predatory or malicious.  It was subtle but gentle in a way you had absolutely no plan to save yourself from, no protection, no armor, no neutral territory.  There was only heat, so strong that your toes weren’t cold anymore and you didn’t even remember that your hair was still damp.  Not only did you let his heat consume you, but you didn’t even think to stop it, to swallow your desire down, to run away and say goodnight and hide in bed from the icky scary feelings.  No, you looked right back at him and let those eyes pierce right through you, that cold blue changed entirely with the warm firelight reflecting in them.  

“Do you want to come to my room?” you asked slowly.  The words were useless, but a glance back to the stairs that led to your door and back at him asked the same question with much more efficacy.  

He nodded, and you stepped backwards as he followed you: across the house, up the stairs, and to your room.  You opened the door.  He shut it behind you. 

[omegasmileyface]

Not in the Job Description

heres a silly lil Danny Phantom concept based entirely off a half-awake sleep-vision that made me laugh :) my subconscious brain is a genius at coming up with things that make just enough sense to be worth writing

summary: Danny's job at a local restaurant is surprisingly fulfilling, even after being crowned Ghost King. Speaking of that job, however, there are some intricacies to it that are hard to keep in mind during everyday life.

warnings: descriptions of nausea and mild sickness

words: 2180

AO3 link

===

Honestly, life was going pretty well at the moment for Danny Fenton. He wasn't even worried that it was a false security or a calm before a storm, because this kind of semi-serenity had been going on for more than a year. It was a long-term stability brought about by adaptation and putting in effort to get help and accommodation. Jazz would be proud!

Sometime at the beginning of Junior year, the Observants had chased him down and crowned him High Ghost King (much to the chagrin of both involved parties). It certainly added responsibility to Danny's plate, along with some new sensations and a series of crises (what didn't these days?), but a little political discussion with some of the more powerful ghosts ended with Danny deciding that, at least at the moment, the position didn't require him to do much more than he normally did. More ghosts would seek him out for help and he would do his best, and some "paperwork" (though there was very little paper involved and it was a lot of talking and oaths and rituals and such) happened about monthly. Otherwise, though, the Zone didn't need much more help than that, having survived off an absent King for centuries. Well, and the ambient purpose of the King as a sort of core for the Zone, but Danny didn't have to put in time or conscious effort for that.

Eventually that settled into normalcy, and Danny was back to worrying about the balance of schoolwork, self-care, and fighting. He still hadn't given up on the prospect of someday becoming an astronaut, and he was determined to have the grades for it. Don't get him wrong, he'd gotten way better about that! He'd formed a practiced, if not entirely stable, system that kept his grades at a solid B- / C+, while getting a solid 5-ish hours of sleep most nights and not bottling things up too much. It was about halfway through Junior year that he realized, with some help from his friends, that his ghosts fights were honestly pretty civil, at least against the regulars. Civil enough that he knew they had some respect for him, and was willing to risk asking for help. So a few weeks and awkward but not bad conversations later, and he had agreements with almost all his regular "foes" not to cause trouble within Amity from 11pm to 7am, 3pm on weekdays. It was more than half the day off-limits on school days, and plenty of ghosts made up for it to a degree by making themselves more common during the "permitted" hours, but it greatly increased Danny's well-being and school performance anyway. "Rivals" like Skulker and Technus had enough respect for Danny and his Lair to abide, and plenty even cared that he was taking care of himself, even between frequent sparring. Maybe a few were really just in fear of his new crown, but he chose to cautiously pretend that wasn't a possibility.

After graduation — he made Senior year with all As and Bs! — Danny's parents had encouraged him to get a part-time job over the summer. He had been interning at FentonWorks (paid! His parents might not be the most attentive but they certainly weren't unfair) since he had accidentally revealed himself a few years back, and they had been thrilled to hear that he still intended to go into NASA if possible, and had done whatever they could to help. They recommended the job because, as good as a paid scientific internship was on a resume, it would help to have a variety of activity and the opportunity to get recommendations from employers who weren't liable to nepotism. After searching local businesses, Danny found a small sandwich shop founded by a middle-aged couple who had moved in and set up shop just before the ghost attacks began. Being close to the school but not far from the commercial sector and offering small portable food (no one wants to sit down for a meal when a spirit could come crashing through the window at any moment), the place got good enough business to pay the employees a proper living wage. Better yet, they were allowed to take home unsold food! Not to mention the owners were both very kind women who held smiling conversation with employees and customers alike. Danny was more than lucky to land such a nice job, even if it meant he had to get up at 7 five days a week.

All this is to say that it wasn't as surprising as it could have been that he was having a slow and pleasant day at work.

Both the owners were out for the day on some sort of vacation, so today it was just Danny and a short teenager named Casey manning the place. Most of their orders recently had been online due to an explosion causing road work near the restaurant and it was mid-morning, leaving work slow enough that they could afford to just have the two until lunch shift started. Danny was on cashier duty today, but unless the door bell sounded, he was helping Casey in the kitchen.

"Aw, man, we're almost out of tomatoes."

"Really?" Casey looked up to the shelf Danny was inspecting and indeed saw only 3 tomatoes. "Huh, guess they didn't restock yesterday. Well, we probably shouldn't risk needing more before the day's out, do you want me to go get more?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, I can go. I think I could use the fresh air." He said that a lot, especially as an excuse when his ghost sense went off, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He never had liked being confined.

Casey checked the monitor to see if they'd gotten any new online orders. Since there was a grocery store just a block away, any time someone needed a quick restock they tended to just walk.

They looked up to see Danny already had his jacket on and was looking them in the eye. "Would you take over my position until I come back?"

"Of course. Ten minutes?"

With a nod and a smile, Danny was out the back door.

===

After a moment of habitually wiping down the counters, Casey went up to the register in case a customer appeared.

It was even quieter than before for a few minutes, so they busied themself with mini restocks and organization. They were in the middle of stacking some paper coffee cups when they started to feel dizzy. There had been this subtle pressure on their chest since Danny left, which they figured was anxiety for working the restaurant alone for the first time, and now it had solidified into a warm nausea that flared whenever they exhaled.

With the disinterested panic that came from having strange things happen for years, they wondered if they had missed their medication this morning. A quick glance at their phone, however, showed the notification for it checked off.

Putting the phone back away, Casey noticed the tips of their fingers were somewhat translucent. Alright then, it was definitely something to do with ghosts. Great! Just excellent. The panic was less disinterested this time.

They weren't familiar with any sort of ghost illness that made humans translucent, so they definitely needed to call someone to make sure nothing bad happened. It would be best to call the Fentons' public number so they could go over and get looked over by then. In the meantime, they should call Danny and ask him to hurry back. He shouldn't be much longer anyway.

Casey didn't even get the chance to act on their plan, however, before a short humanoid ghost appeared in the dining area. They didn't look to be up to anything, but Casey reached for the emergency ectoblaster beneath the register anyway. The nausea was getting worse, along with a new chill, and they couldn't be sure this new ghost wasn't somehow causing whatever they were going through.

The ghost looked at them with an expression that was almost desperate. "Ah! Kind human, thank you for your time." The ghost... bowed? "I am Eurusid, from the Spoken Channels. There has been a dispute which damaged public meeting grounds in the center of the Channels, and both groups refuse to allow the damage to be repaired except by the other group."

Casey's eyes narrowed. It was becoming difficult to stand with the dizziness, and if not the ghost himself, then whatever he was saying was probably a hallucination. They didn't even think about responding beyond a detached "what".

It was then that Danny re-entered the back door with the new tomatoes. Good thing, too. At least with another person there, Casey could confirm whether they were hallucinating.

===

Placing down the grocery bag and shrugging off his jacket in one motion, a skill only gained by years of laziness efficiency, Danny called toward the register. "Back!"

Once he caught sight of the teen, however, all casualness shed itself from his body and he rushed over to hold them. "Man, Casey, you feeling alright? You look really pale." The realization that their form was slightly translucent, despite the firm human heartbeat beneath, was drowned out by him finally noticing the ghost standing a few feet away. The reaction of his ghost sense had been so minor that he had ignored it.

He was surprised to see that he recognized the specter's face, marred as it may have been from worry and confusion aimed directly at Casey. "Eurusid? What's going on?"

As the ghost, still confused but unwilling to act impolitely, gathered his bearings and began to bow toward him, Danny's coworker shuddered under his hands, regaining his full attention. He thought back through the day's events for hints as to the situation, before swearing, cutting off whatever Eurusid was about to say.

Danny backed up and said, voice as clear as he could, "I recall my position."

Casey's reaction was immediate, a gasp of air like they had been kept from breathing and a return of their skin's human opacity. Danny rushed back over and put his hand on their back to steady them as their eyes narrowed and went slightly unfocused.

Figures, doesn't it? One of the many intricacies that had come up at his coronation Junior year that just hadn't come up enough to keep at the front of his mind. One of the defenses of the High Ghost Crown was the ability of the King to temporarily give their duty to someone else. As long as that person accepts, during a specified time they substitute for the King in dealing with political matters, as well as taking over as much as their ability allowed of the King's function to process the energy of the Realms.

Danny had no idea that this ability could be activated with words as vague as "take over my position", let alone that it could be used with a human. That potential had never come up during the ceremony, so for all he knew, a full ghost in his position couldn't substitute with a human. A human certainly shouldn't be able to take over any part of the energy processing, though maybe in Amity Park the average person processed enough environmental ectoplasmic energy to make it possible. Regardless of residence, though, it could not be good for Casey's body, which had no Core to properly process energy and had no human equivalent except perhaps a small emotional center in the brain, to even attempt to filter and manage some of the inherent energy of a dimension.

Their skin was still clammy and their coordination was shot. Ancients, if this is what an accidental substitution did to a human, Danny would have to word things very carefully when asking for help in the future.

"King Phantom?" Danny looked up to see that Eurusid was still floating there awkwardly. Right. He had two people here to help.

"Sorry, Eurusid. One moment, I'll be right with you." He turned back to his coworker, who looked confused and less lucid than ideal, but probably still lucid enough to realize this ghost had just called him "King Phantom". Well, he'd deal with that once it came to it. "Here, Casey, let's get you some water." He helped them walk back into the kitchen and sat them down on a bench by the back door. There was a chair in the register area, but they probably didn't want to feel exposed to the dining area like that, even with nobody but the ghost there.

Once handed the water, Casey sighed and eagerly drank from it, eyes closed. Danny rubbed his hand on their back a bit and promised to be back shortly before walking back out to meet Eurusid. Whatever he was here about was probably worth immediate attention but Danny was sure there'd be at least a solid minute of apologies on both sides before the matter was addressed. Hopefully both the Spoken Channels and Casey would be alright before the next shift came in.

[honeyypotato]

Honey’s Blog Rules :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hello and welcome! You can call me Honey or Ravi! I go by she/they pronouns! I draw, write, and make 3D art. I’m quite new to writing so bear with me hehe. You can also find my writing on Ao3 here if you prefer reading things on there :)

Wanna learn more about me? -> click here

Requests are pretty much open right now, but I’m in the middle of job hunting so I’m gonna be a little slow at getting around to them.

Wanna send in a request? Please check my rules for requesting first! -> click here

A few rules I’ve got for my blog:

1. Please dni if you’re a minor, or at least check the tags in each post before reading. I’m old and I write spicy things. I will not tell you to get off my page or anything, I’m all for y’all consuming any content you desire, but please don’t interact :0

2. This blog is a safe space for women, LGBT+, trans, poc, non-binary, and neurodivergent friends! I do not stand for bi erasure. If you interact with me and are racist, misogynistic, anti-LGBT+, a pedophile, terf, or at all threatening or just mean I will block you. Basically, just be a good human please and thank you <3

2. My writing mostly comes from self-insert daydreams I have and is a culmination of everything I’ve read or watched that I think is cool. So, expect mostly character x reader stuff. I’m doing my best to make most of my writing with a gender neutral reader, bear with me, some of them may just be AFAB!reader. I may write character x character stuff upon request in the future. I also really like action movies and that stuff so expect a good amount of that. If you think self-insert or y/n shit is cringey this is not the blog you are looking for!

3. I also write original works and have many original characters with their own stories! More of this will be coming soon, but as I prepare to introduce y’all to the worlds in my brain you’ll prob see posts and things for organizational purposes.

4. I currently only have writing for Reiner Braun from Attack on Titan. I’m a busy little guy, and he’s consuming my whole brain. I have plans to write for the other AoT characters and also JJK eventually.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Masterlist to End All Masterlists:

Original works!

(There’s nothing here yet)

Masterlist of Fics

Headcanons

Before you journey to my list of fics, here’s what I write for (or am planning on writing for) (also could be read as just a list of things I’m into and enjoy consuming content for):

Attack on Titan

Genshin Impact

Jujutsu Kaisen

Honkai Impact 3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[ao3theskyisblue]

We are lost (and we’re falling)

Summary:

His words had come out cold, short, and he knew Carlos didn’t need to be a cop to hear the bite in his tone.

The sound of the front door closing echoed loudly in the silence that followed, and he knew Carlos saw what he was looking at the second he heard a sharp inhale.

A sound of a bag dropping to the floor. Keys being returned to their rightful spot. Slow footsteps moving closer, but TK didn’t take his eyes off the offending piece of paper, glaring holes through the thin material holding insurmountable value.

“TK-”

“When.”

Written for Day 1 of @911lonestarangstweek : Emotional whump + “How do we fix this?” 

Read on AO3 

“When were you going to tell me?”

TK didn’t get up from his spot on the couch, stock still since he found a certain piece of paper reciting words he wasn’t sure he had read correctly for the 10th time that night. So, he sat, staring blankly at the muddled words on paper, waiting for his husband to come home to get the answers to his innumerable questions.

His words had come out cold, short, and he knew Carlos didn’t need to be a cop to hear the bite in his tone.

The sound of the front door closing echoed loudly in the silence that followed, and he knew Carlos saw what he was looking at the second he heard a sharp inhale.

A sound of a bag dropping to the floor. Keys being returned to their rightful spot. Slow footsteps moving closer, but TK didn’t take his eyes off the offending piece of paper, glaring holes through the thin material holding insurmountable value.

“TK-”

“When.”

TK looked up sharply, and felt his chest tighten at the way Carlos stepped back slightly. But they were going to have this conversation, because he had gone through the various stages of shock, disbelief, fear, anger, and now…nothing.

He wanted to understand.

“A few days before our one-year anniversary.” Carlos said quietly, and TK clenched his jaw, lifting a hand to run through his hair roughly.

“Our one-year anniversary when we were dating, or when we got married?” TK knew the answer to that when he saw Carlos tense, letting out a hollow laugh.

“Were you just never planning on telling me? Until what, I find out myself eventually? When it would already be too late?” TK bit down on his lower lip, hard, tasting the bitter tang of blood as his teeth broke skin. It wasn’t nearly enough to distract him from all this. He could see from the corner of his eyes as Carlos slowly took a seat on the ottoman in front of him, but still keeping a semblance of distance.

“I promise, I was going to tell you,” Carlos’ voice was still quiet, as if he knew the moment one of them raised their voices, it would only further escalate the conversation. “I just never found the right time.”

The right time.

TK couldn’t help a scoff at that, standing up sharply from his spot on the couch to pace the wooden floors of their living room, his steps arrhythmic.

“Tyler-”

TK let out an ugly sound, shooting Carlos a glare that could cut through glass.

“Don’t you dare. I am not in the mood to hear my name right now, especially when you decided to put it in a place where I absolutely object to.” He tore his gaze away from the coffee table, hands clenched tightly by his sides.

“How do we fix this?”

“Oh, so now it’s we?”

“TK-”

“No. I can’t–I can’t do this right now.” TK abruptly stopped his pacing only to violently slam his palms down on the kitchen counter, the skin of his palms stinging with a certain pain he couldn’t feel over the bleeding wounds of his heart. He could feel the tears burning like acid in his eyes, knowing that they could spill at any fueling word.

“Sweetheart,”

Clenching his fingers inwards towards his palms, he felt his nails digging against the soft skin, no doubt leaving deep crescent indentations in their wake.

“TK, look at me.”

The sound that ripped out of his throat was immediately covered with his hand, and TK furiously blinked back the onslaught of tears. He felt a gentle hand on his bicep, and forced himself to take in a few shuddering breaths before turning around, facing his husband. Carlos’ own eyes were red-rimmed, but he still had a small, albeit sad smile on his lips.

“Talk to me.” Carlos’ grip on his arm tightened, and TK swallowed back the sob that wanted to break free, instead taking in another deep breath and closing his eyes.  

He could feel the anguish filling up the room in suffocating waves, but he had already found it hard to breathe the second he had accidentally found the will. His name was printed neatly underneath a paragraph of writing, taunting him.

TK stares at the space between them, knowing that there was a hand on his arm, but not quite feeling it.

He couldn’t really name anything he was feeling right now.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

The words came out quiet, subdued, and TK wasn’t sure if Carlos even heard him. But then there was a warm hand trailing up his arm, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re my partner. My better half, the love of my life,” Carlos stresses, as if that would somehow alleviate the pain currently tearing him to shreds. “There is no one else I trust with this more than you.”

A hot wave of fury washed over him. TK stepped back from the gentle hold to level a glare at the man standing before him, who looked stricken. TK hardly ever pulled away from Carlos’ touches, feeling a pit growing in his stomach at the hurt in his husband’s gaze.

“You-you have no idea-”

“I trust you-”

“I don’t trust myself, Carlos!”

TK felt the man in front of him reel back at that, but still refused to lift his gaze. He knew what he would see – concern, confusion, but what he couldn’t bear to see was the ever-present softness that never disappeared no matter how bad their arguments got.

Swallowing thickly, TK twisted the gold wedding band around his finger. Ever since the day they promised each other forever, the ring had become one of his grounding sources. Not stopping his administrations, TK tried for a smile which only turned into a grimace.  

“You are asking me to be the bridge between your life and death,” He started, clenching his jaw at the last part. “A single word, a signature, and I have the power to take your life. Don’t you dare make it seem like this is an easy decision for me, you don’t get to do that.” TK waved a hand towards the papers scattered on the coffee table, hearing Carlos suck in a sharp breath.

The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded louder than he remembered, and he tried to focus on the rhythmic ticking to try and calm his racing heartbeat.

It wasn’t working.

Carlos didn’t move closer, but his next words hit him like a bucket of ice water.

“You think I don’t know you put my name down for yours?”

The words weren’t accusing, nor were they harsh. Instead, they were stated as a fact, something TK couldn’t deny.  

That didn’t mean it was the same thing.

“That’s different.” He says icily, but Carlos didn’t so much as flinch. His gaze never wavered.

“How so? From where I’m standing, you and I seem to be thinking the same thing.” One thing he’s found to be a little frustrating and also endearing was how logical Carlos was with his arguments. TK didn’t know whether it was something that came from working in law enforcement, but he found it hard to argue with reason.

They didn’t fight often, but when they did, it was a brief fuel to the fire, something that both of them knew that would be worked out in the end and that at the end of the day, they were just two men who fiercely loved each other.

“Because you-” TK trailed off, the sudden heaviness of his thoughts weighing him down like lead. Carlos frowned.

“Because I’m…?”  

There were a few beats where they just stared at each other. TK could see that Carlos was itching to reach out towards him, but he knew that he had to be the first one to close the distance between them.

He wasn’t ready.

“When people leave, they take pieces.”  

His dad took the first piece. It had been a small piece, but a piece, nonetheless. Something he couldn’t grasp – just watching from a distance as it slipped through his fingers.

His mom took the next piece, and a 7-year-old’s memories were surprisingly vivid. He still remembered the colour of the moving truck parked outside their house, the sound of the spluttering engine as it came to life, the look on his neighbours’ faces as they not-so-subtly watched through the window as his parents argued.

The pieces kept chipping away as the years went by. His stepmom. Enzo. Every new friend he made and grew to never speak to again, his first overdose, the dinner with Alex.  

All those pieces left scars that he learned to bear better with time, but they never fully healed. He would never completely get those pieces back, but building himself to always strive for a better life created new ones he could nurture and protect.

And the person who carried the biggest piece of all, was the man standing right in front of him.

TK closed his eyes, knowing that Carlos could see the tremble of his lips as he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. “You have all of me. If I have to watch you-if I’m the reason you leave this world-” A single tear slipped down his cheeks, and he quickly lifted a hand to wipe it away roughly. “I won’t be able to let you go Carlos, don’t ask me to.”

Carlos remained silent. TK didn’t know how long they had been standing in the little area between the living room and the kitchen, but from the way one of his knees had locked, the dull ache pulsating through his leg in waves, it must have been a while.

He still couldn’t bring himself to sit down.

“You think it’s easy for me to think about letting you go?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and TK warily lifted his gaze from the floor to Carlos’ eyes, which were filled with ripples of love and pain. He took a small step forward, but nothing more than that.

“Because let me tell you, it would be the single hardest decision in my entire life.” He says shakily, and TK feels his heart shatter at the tears that broke free. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last that he would see Carlos cry, but it never changed the fact that every time he did, something in him died a little with every tear that slipped down his cheeks.

He hadn’t realized his hands were trembling until he lifted them to gently cup Carlos’ face, thumbs slowly moving to delicately wipe the tears away. Two warm hands covered his own, and TK leaned up to press his lips gently to Carlos’ forehead. The hands covering his tightened when he leaned back.  

“I thought the single hardest decision were those adoption papers we filed a few months ago.” TK says lightly, feeling the first genuine smile grace his lips since the start of all this when Carlos let out a wet chuckle.

No matter how many years have passed, TK feels himself melting all over again at the signature warmth in Carlos’ gaze that was surely mirrored in his own as they looked at each other.

“They’re on different meters.” Carlos responds, and TK’s eyes crinkle at the sides. His hands move to his hips, pulling him in closer.

“We can’t see the future,” Carlos says softly, and TK’s smile dims. “There will be many more uncertainties down the road, obstacles we’ll face. But I’m sure, with every fiber of my being, that I want to face them with you– to be the one to hold your hand until the end.”

TK forcefully swallows past the bitter tang in his throat.

The words wash over him in a dizzying warmth. Death was inescapable, and a constant presence in both their lines of work. It was one of the reasons they treasured every minute they got with each other, never knowing when their clocks would abruptly stop. And although the mere thought of the possibility of Carlos leaving his world tore him raw and hung him dry, he knew that if it truly came to that, he would want the exact same thing.

For better or for worse.

Lifting a hand to run through Carlos’ curls fondly, his other hand drifted to his pulse point, feeling the rhythmic pulsing against his fingers.

“I love you.” TK says instead, pulling Carlos into a tight hug that was returned with equal fervor without hesitation.

“I know. And I love you.” Carlos murmured, tightening his arms around him. TK closed his eyes, pressing his face into the slightly rough material of his husband’s uniform, absently remembering that he hadn’t gotten a chance to change when he got home.

Pressing a kiss to Carlos’ shoulder, TK looked up to see brown eyes already looking at him affectionately. He slowly trails a hand down his husband’s arm, smiling at the trail of goosebumps left behind in their wake.

“I’m never letting go of your hand,” TK whispers, his hand having travelled down to intertwine with Carlos’, lifting it up to press a lingering kiss to the back of it. He stares at the ridges and scars with teary eyes, every indentation – every mark ingrained into his mind.

“I’m going to hold onto you for a long, long time.”  

[mocacheezy]

Things that made watching Transformers (2007) easier and even enjoyable:

[note: B'verse gets the treatment that it gets by fandom for good reasons. There are tons of posts that dissect the bullshit of these movies far better than my second-language-english-non-american self could ever tackle, so I am not doing that, or plan on doing that. But if I decide that I'll get through every continuity of the franchise I will find a way to make it fun for myself. And so, this is my search for golden nuggets in these movies, because they did bring in new fans to the franchise and that's why we have other continuities that we might not have otherwise. Credit where it's due, and some positivity for those that did find B'verse at least amusing if nothing else. ]

🍴🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪

Frenzy

Anytime Frenzy was on screen made me smile because his movements and personality were hilarious, he is just so expressive despite looking like someone super glued a bunch of knifes together. I wouldn't know it was Frenzy if I didn't go to the Wiki, but no matter that, he was funny and that's what matters.

The original Cybertronian robot modes

We don't see them for long, but the glimpses were glorious. Just look at Optimus

Gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to see the details up close. Maybe I'll go looking eventually, but this is just so nice.

We also get a "sexily rises from the pool" scene with Ironhide (probably unintentional and I am biased due to being a robofucker. In any case, very very nice and Cybertronians look so good as aliens)

"Excuse me, are you the Tooth Fairy?"

You see this kid?

This little girl was the only human I cared about in the movie until I saw just how badass Mikaela is, and how cool the military dude is. I don't like kids, but I would lay down my life for this girl.

This one scene just makes me think of what would happen if her parents showed up way earlier. Ironhide would be her guardian and it would be both adorable and hilarious because "Honey, you have to drive in a sentient alien that looks just like our car because the goverment men said so or there will be consequences and potential alien threats."

There are so many joke potentials there; the cultural barrier, the "I am the ine that is supposed to keep her safe" glaring contests, there is just so much shenanigans that could happen.

Also, tea party with the kid. Tea party with the kid.

Sam Witwicky actually reacts like an average human would when faced with the situations he finds himself in

Do I like Sam Witwicky? No, he is the kind of character that I would want to punch irl because of his personality and actions. He is disgusting. But watching him scamper and scream and stutter when faced with giant metal robot aliens that can squish him like a bug? Good, that was a beliavable reaction and I enjoyed it a great deal.

Megatron. Just, ✨Megatron✨

(the best screenshot of the few I could take while watching, no, I am not going back for a better one, he looks perfect like this)

I also laughted at how they kept him frozen like a popsicle. And not even well, like, they COULD'VE made an actual freezer and pop him in instead of using those couple of tubes just so he was displayed for all personell to gawk at. HE CRASHED IN THE ANTARCTIC!

The design looks so good, because it looks ALIEN and POINTY and AGH!!! The colors? There are no colors that would make him stand out, he looks like someone opened a cutlery drawer, mixed up what's inside, threw in some extra knifes for a good measure and then shook the whole thing until this guy materialized from the pile. It is both incredibly annoying and satisfying.

🔪

Mr. Welker did an amazing job with his voice, I don't know what the directions were, but oh man it sure sent shivers down my spine. That is the kind of voice that spells "You are going to die" and I already have my coffin picked out.

EDIT: SO APPARENTLY! IT WAS NOT WELKER THAT VOICED MEGATRON.

It was Hugo Weaving, and yes the man did am amazing job, but I apologize a million times, I was CERTAIN that THE OG VA OF MEGATRON WOULD ALSO HAVE VOICED MEGATRON. LIKE, OKAY BAY, OKAY!

🔪

LOOK AT THE AMOUNT OF ICE! With how quick he came back fully online once Frenzy turned off the freeze liquid tubes, I bet he was half awake through the whole thing. Systems just below idling or something, in any case, AGENTS YOU ARE SO DUMB! WHO WAS GIVING SUBPAR FUNDING TO THEM, THEY BETTER BE FIRED!

I also was glad that Sam refused to call him by the name the sector asigned to him, despite Megatron being in stasis. And that he insisted they use the correct name. Good job Sam, acknowledge the threat by the actual name and show respect to a fellow sentient lifeform. Even though said lifeform is hellbent on destruction of the universe and your world.

ALSO, AND I CANNOT STRESS THE LAUGHTER AND AMUSEMENT HERE; the sheer DISRESPECT! They don't disassemble Megatron's corpse. No, these idiots, these absolute morons decide to dump him into the ocean, letting him sink to the lowest possible point (not sure if they did say it was the M' Trench or not), where there are proper freezing temperatures - good! You're learning, good job!! - just... In full. Full corpse. What's left of him. Just blup! Down with the fishies he goes!

I understand that they probably didn't know how to approach Optimus about it, but... At least behead the guy. He came back ONCE, who is to say he won't come back again?! Safety precautions my dears.

They also completely disregard what a giant extraterrestrial metal alien rusting away on the bottom of the ocean could do to the ecosystem at large. Like, I find this incredibly amusing, because this ISN'T something most folks think about when watching a movie but we have giant squids down there. We have so much weird things down there, the ocean isn't even fully explored AND YOU WANT TO CHUCK AN ALIEN CORPSE DOWN THERE?!

Now the real question: is he a looker? *looks at the pictures* hmmmm, depends on if you like knifes. Like, really like knifes. Like really, really REALLY want to get it on with a fine assembly of kitchen knifes that were exposed to the elements but somehow haven't rusted away completely.

I think he's neat.

Needs a good long powerwash though. Preferrably with something to help the whole "I was frozen for more than 50 years and sprang back to action as soon as I woke up" thing that happened.

My man needs to take a moment and get his bearings, like dude. Please. You can conquer the world after some energon and slow system boot-up period. The strain on the systems my dude, you ain't young.

Also love that this "death" was probably reused in TFP because lord golly, do we love our faves ending up under the sea. (Though Megan took a much bigger fall, Bayverse WAS PLOPPED INTO THE WATER LIKE A NEWLY ACQUIRED FISH I CAN'T YOU GUYS I CAN'T!)

In short: I love the comedy of american military giving such disrespect to an Alien Warlord. These guys are really sealing their fate.

I loved the way they got the Witwicky family to be important to the plot

The whole "selling my great great grandpa's glasses on e-bay" thing gives us a very good self insert/OC/rewrite/movie AU potential. Don't like Sam and his disgustingness? Find a way to write a cousin or some far off relative or hell, even just someone who buys the glasses off e-bay and go wild with it!

Archibald was also clearly an inspiration for Isaac Sumdac as far as I can tell, what with both of them using Megatron as a means of helping technology advance.

Only difference being one of them lived and actually talked to Megatron after he came back online and the other got driven to madness and death due to the amount of information beamed into his brain. Isaac also acquired a space baby daughter, so the guy is absolutely luckier of the two.

Mikaela being fucking competent and badass throughout the movie, and not being just fanservice eyecandy

I could do without the fanservice, but her personality? I loved it. I loved that she wasn't crawling to Sam and wasn't being "hard to get". Which is also why I was very displeased at the very sudden "oh yeah, romance! She returns his feelings after he took her for a ride and let her vent her frustrations!". The movie is 2 hours long and they could throw in some moments where these two connect?

Welp, it is an action movie, boy gets girl no matter what, can't complain about the staple in the genre.

However, Mikaela x Optimus? Now THAT is something I considered as soon as the two locked eyes and interacted. Like, even taking my shipping goggles off, these two could have a very interesting dynamic and Mikaela could be a very good protagonist. I wonder what the movie would be like with her as the lead and Sam being the fucking moron she has to drag along with her.

BUT ALSO! Can we talk about the horrible, excruciating fact that her and Bumblebee drove around with Bee's damaged legs dragging over asphalt all the time he was shooting at 'Cons? There were sparks flying! SHE WAS DRIVING BACKWARDS! She took command of the situation and did what she could because Bee still wanted TO FIGHT!

Also, they way she beat up Frenzy? Gorgeous, I want to slap Sam's non-existent balls off for not atleast saying "thanks". The dude would be sliced thinner than cabbage if she wasn't there.

The millitary man we are supposed to care about because his wife gave birth while he was on duty and we see his baby three times in the whole movie, actually being a pretty awesome and well-written character

Look, personally, I was a little confused at the reason why we were seeing his wife and baby interacting/the scene where she thinks her husband is dead. Mostly because I don't like kids, so scenes like that, when I don't even know who the character is, have no impact at all. Him having a baby isn't going to make me like the guy more, unless I know his character. Him being absent because he's on duty doesn't mean he'll be a good dad (though he looks like the kind of man that will try his best, and I like that in a man). So seeing his wife and kid at the start of the movie seemed pointless to me.

BUT! FOCUSING ON THE POSITIVES HERE!

Lennox is a good character and whenever he was on screen I was invested in what is going to happen to him. He's the kind of action movie lead that would have me invested, despite my meh interest in mainly gun fight oriented action movies.

Essentially, loved the guy, would love to see more of him while also being able to tell what's happening on screen. Also the comedy scenes he was in were usually funny.

~

Okay so these are the things I like about the first movie! It was very long, had to watch it on 2,5x speed because it simultainously dragged while ALSO giving me too much information, but the moments like these and the way my imagination latched onto characters I liked made it watchable. It isn't a movie I'd use to introduce someone to the TF franchise, but it provided me with lots of material for my imagination to run wild.

[theghostofashton]

hey , when you are free ( only when you're feeling good , i don't want to burden you since you're already in the middle of writing another fic ) can you do a short fic on your interpretation of how both kurt and blaine decided they needed help and went to therapy and how it all played out leading upto s6 where we see them.

you sent me this so long ago and i'm so sorry it took forever. i decided to kind of write two fics? writing kurt and blaine's individual processes felt more natural as separate fics, because they are both in very different places. they got kind of long (i am so sorry - i cannot shut up to save my life lmfao) so i didn't go into the actual therapy sessions, but i can definitely write follow ups that do, if you want!

pretty heavy trigger warnings for depression in both of these. keep that in mind before reading.

i hope you enjoy :)

Blaine is numb.

He doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t want to feel anything. Everything’s hurt for far longer than he’s been able to bear. It’s finally starting to fade into a slow, steady ache, dull at the edges and no longer as painful, and for that, he is relieved. It’s the kind of hurt that he can tolerate, the kind that just blends into the background, a low buzz that just remains constant.

He just wants to lay here forever. Maybe until the world ends, or his body decomposes, whichever comes first.

It all happened so quickly. Sometimes it feels like someone took a sledgehammer to his life and left it in thousands of tiny pieces. He’s sitting amongst the wreckage, unsure of where to even begin rebuilding. Part of him isn’t sure it’s entirely possible to put back together the smithereens of everything he thought he knew.

The rest of him just doesn’t understand how things got to this point. He doesn’t understand how it happened, how he went from daydreams and decisions about wedding menus, to trying to soften the lump in his throat long enough to deal the last blow. I will never forgive you. I won’t.

I will never forgive you for this.

In the moment, it was all he could do. All of the strength he could summon had been poured into those seven words. He wanted them to hurt, to sting Kurt the way Kurt had stung him, icy hot and merciless. He wanted Kurt to know that it would take more. He wasn’t that easily breakable – at least, not on the outside. He would have the last word, and he would tell it like it was.

He doesn’t know how he could ever forgive Kurt for this.

More important than Kurt, Blaine doesn’t know how he’ll ever forgive himself for the series of bad decisions the past couple of months have dissolved into. Day after day spent in bed, tear tracks drying on his face as he stared at nothing on his walls and tried to keep conscious for a respectable amount of time. He knew it wasn’t a good thing to be sleeping for more hours out of the day than he was awake, but he couldn’t find the energy to do anything else.

Kurt had left.

He was gone.

And Blaine, as much as he tried to fight it, was broken by him. He was broken by the realization that he had put so much of his happiness, so much of himself into his relationship with Kurt and his future wedding, that, now that it had been yanked away, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know anything, anymore. His life no longer looked anything like he had envisioned it turning out, and he was forced to live with that. There wasn’t anything he could do.

Kurt doesn’t want him anymore.

There isn’tanything he can do about that.

A part of him isn’t too surprised, if he’s really honest with himself. Things have been different for a while. He’s been scared for a while.

His gut could tell something bad was coming. It was obvious, in the way Kurt moved around the apartment, in the lines of his body in bed at night, the way he was perpetually tensed, stiff with everything he was holding in. Maybe he’d wanted to break up sooner, but held back to preserve Blaine’s feelings.

Blaine isn’t stupid. He knows that that night at the restaurant wasn’t planned. He pushed just the right amount for Kurt to finally blurt out the thing that had had a hold on him. For how long, Blaine isn’t sure, but he knows it had to have been longer than the length of time he kept Kurt waiting at that table.

At least, that’s what he keeps trying to tell himself.

Because the alternative, the biting realization that Kurt hadn’t intended to break up with him, that it just slipped out, something so impulsive yet so final, is too much for Blaine. He doesn’t want it to be true. That isn’t the Kurt he knows. None of this makes sense, but that…that Kurt made the decision to end their relationship, their engagement, so quickly and easily, is too much for him to take.

It was his biggest fear. The thing he kept convincing himself would never happen. Kurt loves you. He always will. He told you he will. He’s not going to leave you. He loves you.

Kurt said he loved him. He said it back, in a moment that Blaine was sure he wouldn’t. But did he? Did he really? The way Blaine sees it, loving someone means fighting for them. Choosing them. Working through the hard things with them.

And Blaine doesn’t know why. He can’t ask. He can only guess. Spend some of these painful hours of consciousness contemplating exactly why he wasn’t good enough for Kurt to stay with. Because the Kurt Hummel he knows is the strongest, toughest fighter he’s ever met. Things had to be dire for him to not even make the effort.

Kurt had finally figured it out. What made him so intolerable, so exhausting to be around. He had realized what he was getting himself into and made a break for it before things could go any deeper. Blaine supposes that is for the best. Get out now, before the papers are signed and things are officially official, before it is much harder to make the break for it.

This is what he’s been scared of, been terrified of, since he and Kurt got back together. And he tried to push it to the back of his mind, because Kurt said yes and invited him to New York and promised to make it safe when he fell. Kurt promised to be there for everything, promised that they belongedto each other, promised that he would never stop loving him.

Blaine wonders when he did.

He wonders when all of this fell apart, how blissfully ignorant and idiotic he must have been not to see it.

How long was Kurt planning to do this? How long was he thinking about it? How long did he keep this to himself, wake up next to Blaine and kiss him goodbye every morning, knowing he was holding onto to the mother of secrets that had the power to destroy everything? Why did he get to be the one making that unilateral decision about their relationship?

Kurt controlled whether they got engaged or not, and Kurt controlled how it ended.

It was all up to him.

Blaine just had to hope they were on the same page about everything, and now it’s clear that they weren’t.

He’s so tired of other people getting to make decisions about his life, and leaving him to deal with the wreckage of their choices. He’s tired of not having any control. He doesn’t know how he ended up here. His life doesn’t feel like his anymore.

Madame Tibideaux had decided that he wasn’t worthy of another year at NYADA, that his emotions weren’t a good enough excuse for the quality - or lack thereof - of his work. It didn’t matter what he was feeling, or how bad it hurt. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t like every other person who could channel their pain into their art. It didn’t matter that he’d been doing it for as long as he could remember, feeling through every lyric he sang, every performance he gave. The cup had to dry up eventually. Something had to happen that was too bad, too painful, for him to sing his way out of. It wasn’t his fault. He’d tried so hard, given everything he could.

It didn’t matter that he desperately, desperately needed someone to see him. Not the things he produced, not the contributions he would make to a performance, him. His real self. The part that no one seemed to want.

It didn’t matter that Blaine Warbler felt like a lie he’d forgotten how to live years ago. He remembers grappling for it, trying to tug on the same mask he’d donned after the Sadie Hawkins dance, turn off his emotions and shift into autopilot, sing and dance and perform like he didn’t wish he could stop existing in that moment.

None of it mattered.

Blaine was just not good enough for NYADA, like he was not good enough for Kurt. He should’ve realized it sooner. It’s his own fault he didn’t.

“Honey?”

Blaine startles at the voice, jolting upward in bed and blinking rapidly against the sunlight pouring into his room. “Huh?”

“I brought you a little something to eat.” His mom sets a plate of buttered toast and a glass of water on his nightstand, and then leans down to drop a kiss against his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly. He doesn’t want to lie to her. “Tired, I guess.”

“Sam called the house again,” she says. She takes a seat on the edge of his bed and reaches out to brush a hand through his hair. “He left a message, said you haven’t been picking up your cell. He’s worried, Blaine. I’m sure Tina is too.”

Blaine winces, dropping his gaze down to his blankets. Just one more thing you’re sucking at lately.

He hasn’t called Sam or Tina since he got back to Lima. At first, he was too ashamed to tell them the truth, although he knows that Sam is probably aware of what happened. Kurt and Mercedes talk, and even though Sam isn’t with her anymore, he knows that he and Mercedes are still very close. Sam’s been blowing up his phone for weeks. He sent a perfunctory, “back home for a while, but going to be really busy for a while” text, so Sam wouldn’t assume he was ignoring him, but he’s sure Sam has long figured out it was a lie.

“You don’t have to call him back until you’re ready,” his mom tells him. “But I do think he’d love to hear from you, baby. He could come over and keep you company, play some video games, you could-”

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I don’t want him to come over.”

“Why not?”

I just don’t,” he manages. I don’t want him to see me like this.

I don’t want him to be mad at Kurt.

I don’t even know if I want to be mad at Kurt anymore. All of this is just so exhausting.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about a while ago?”

Blaine snaps his head up to meet her eyes. “You- no, mom. I’m fine, I promise. I just need a couple more days to…” He trails off with a sigh. To what? Wallow in his sadness? Sleep away and accomplish nothing? He hasn’t been the slightest bit productive since he left New York. It feels like he used up all his energy packing up and moving home.

That was over a month ago, and he still hasn’t recovered from it.

“It’s not really a matter of being fine, sweetheart. You know that. I just think talking about it might-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” He snaps. And then he watches her face shift and crumples, lump in his throat throbbing as he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

A pair of hands reaches for him, and he lets himself go, lets her pull him into a hug and buries his face in the crook of her neck. He takes a deep breath, and then another, hot tears burning at his eyes.

He doesn’t want to cry anymore. He feels like he’s done nothing but cry about this. He doesn’t know how he still has tears left.

“I know,” she murmurs, rubbing his back. “And I know you don’t think it’ll help. But you might be surprised, Blaine. I just think you should give it a chance. Get yourself back on your feet and feeling a little better, hm?”

She presses another kiss to the top of his head and props him back against his pillows. “You don’t have to make a decision right now. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” he chokes out.

“I’m just going to be downstairs doing some work. Let me know if you want another piece of toast, all right?”

At his nod, she makes her way out of his room, and Blaine slumps back against his headboard, still fighting tears.

She’s probably right. It would help, far more than it would hurt. His mom has been a proponent of him seeing someone ever since Sadie Hawkins. He insisted he’d be okay then, and, seeing his distress, she didn’t push too hard for it. He knows she regrets that now, knows she blames herself for things getting as bad as they have. If he had gone, back then, maybe they would’ve been able to address some of this before it turned so bad.

But talking means talking about everything. About the dance, and meeting Kurt, and it going from so good to so bad, in such a short amount of time. It means talking about the things he hoped would stay buried, the ways in which he and Kurt were not perfect, his tendency to latch onto things and cling to them, tighter than he probably should have.

He isn’t sure he’s ready to think about more than how angry he is, or how much this hurts. He isn’t sure he’s ready to move out of this stage of staying in bed and not facing the world, holing up in his childhood bedroom and not confronting the life that he feels like he put on pause a month ago. He knows things are different now. He just isn’t sure he’s ready to see how much everything’s changed.

He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to move past all of this, but he knows he needs to.

He knows he needs to leave all of this behind, to start talking about it and thinking about it and rebuilding the pieces of his mess of a life. Otherwise, he’s destined to feel like this forever.

And that scares him even more.

---

Kurt is exhausted.

And if he’s really honest with himself, he’s felt this tiredness for a while now, become so accustomed to it that it feels like he’s leeched it into part of his personality, taken on the ache in his chest and the heaviness of his bones like a jacket with rocks in the pockets, weighing him down with every step he tries to take.

It’s the kind of tired that feels consuming, quicksand that swallows him the more he tries to get out of it. The kind that makes him feel like he’s running on empty, with no sign of a gas station for miles, the kind of tired that makes every day, every action, every conversation, feel like too much.

Part of him thought that this would stop once he ended things with Blaine. He didn’t want to go there. He never wanted to believe that Blaine could be the reason for all of this. How could the person that made him feel so, so loved and safe on his worst days also be the person that made him feel like this? It just didn’t make sense.

It never felt true, but the thought continued to linger, and with every passing day, ate more and more away at him. He tried not to spend too much time in that place. It hurt too much to think about until he was blurting out the words he didn’t even plan on saying.

And then, everything changed.

The breath it allowed him to take, the exhale, didn’t last long. Instead, he’s left with the image of Blaine’s crumpled, heartbroken expression every time he closes his eyes, the I will never forgive you for this playing on loop in his head every time he tries to think about what it could mean going forward.

That was it.

He ruined it.

He drove Blaine away for good.

Kurt remembers the day it happened so clearly. Getting home after a long day of classes, worn out and ravenous, only to be greeted by Blaine’s key to the loft sitting on the kitchen table. He’d sent Kurt a text that had far too many periods and was capitalized in all the right places – which, Blaine usually tended to do, but never in his life had Kurt read a message from him that felt so stiff and robotic and formal – about the rest of his portion of rent and bills for the month.

Blaine was gone.

Really, really gone.

And Kurt was alone, feeling further and further away from the people that loved him with each passing day.

In the beginning, he thought that was what he needed. Time away. A chance to be by himself and reevaluate the decisions he’d made over the past year. Crunch the numbers and figure out if Blaine remained in the equation by the end. He just wanted to be certain, be sure, that he wasn’t opening himself up to be hurt again. He wasn’t sure he could take it one more time, give his heart back to Blaine only to have it dropped, shattered like a stone.

He just wanted to feel safe.

He wanted to be sure of it, sure that he could let his heart go, run wild and free like it did in the common room, racing toward the boy with the beautiful voice who had held his hand and made him feel seen for the first time in his life. He wanted it to feel like that again. Untethered, too strong to control, defying each doubt with that wave of invincibility. So pure and open, expansive with all of the potential, broken parts shaved off to make room for the newness.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have that with Blaine, he’d thought. Maybe Blaine was supposed to be a bridge that helped him on the road to finding that. Maybe he’d meet someone else that would make him feel like Blaine first had, someone else that would make him feel weightless.

He tries to just go for it, to let it happen, but it never does. It never feels right, never the kind of right that it felt with Blaine. He lets Elliott set him up with friends that the other deems perfect, just your type, and feels nothing.

He tries speed dating, and starts getting more serious about Tindr. He matches with a few guys, goes on a couple of dates, flirts and reciprocates and tries, to let himself fall headfirst. It’s fun. Every date is a good time. They’re warm and light and exploding with newness. But the sparks die out after the first twenty minutes and then Kurt finds himself back in his head, thinking about hair gel and bowties and nonfat mochas, intertwined hands and the insides of coffee shops, the way it all felt like the safest home he’s ever known.

And he hates it, he hates that he feels nothing. He hates that his heart belongs to the hair gel and the bowties, because he fucked that up. He ruined that.

Kurt goes to class, goes to work, and comes home. Sometimes he sees Elliott, and sometimes he stays past his shift to chat with Artie at the diner, but otherwise, he spends every day the same. Sitting and staring through shows on TV, shoving spoonful after spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, and trying desperately to turn his brain off. Trying desperately not to wade into the murky waters of every moment that led up to that night.

I will never forgive you for this.

The realization slaps him in the face.

He’s trying to move on, and then he’s crying in public, humiliating himself in front of a perfectly good Tindr match, overcome with the sheer magnitude of the words that came out of his mouth so many months ago. It hadn’t hit him until then, how insistent, how cruel he had been in the moment. How he had the power to turn Blaine from light and warm and excited, to completely and utterly broken, in the span of a single conversation.

He did that.

And sure, it wasn’t just about toothpaste and towels and Blaine’s newfound habit of tardiness, sure, there was so much painful and deep and wrong underneath the surface. Sure, Kurt had had doubts ever since the car ride and the non-surprise of a proposal, sure, it would have come to the light sooner or later, sure, he was just speeding up the process.

But never in his life has he been so disgusted in himself. Never in his life has he gone back over a moment so many times in his head, wished he could turn back time and that 20/20 happened before hindsight and that he could see the future of misery he’d end up in and not decide to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

They could’ve talked about it. Blaine is one of the most understanding people Kurt has ever met. He would’ve absolutely been open to something like that. One of Kurt’s favorite things about him is that kindness, that space for grace he is able to hold for others.

Talk to me. Tell me you’re unhappy.

We’ve been putting this off for far too long.

Don’t you think we should have the talk?

Wait, Kurt, let’s talk about this.

Blaine always wanted to talk. It was how he felt safe, Kurt is realizing. Blaine wanted the words, the vocalization that everything was okay in that real and concrete way. It was how he grounded himself.

Kurt’s never been one for talking. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, locked up tight. He knows they’re not what people want to hear. They’re messy, and don’t always make sense. Sometimes they feel like the worst parts of him all bundled up into one, complete with pieces of him that haven’t fully left the horrors of high school behind.

Talking about them is effort he doesn’t have to exert. He’ll be opening Pandora’s box with no way to contain the contents. He doesn’t necessarily want to know how the people in his life feel about him. He doesn’t want to hear what they have to say. It scares him too much. There’s just no reason to ruin a perfectly good foundation by having conversations that uncover all of the cracks.

No, it’s better to drop a bomb on the entire thing and destroy it in one fell swoop.

He sometimes feels like he’d fallen asleep after Finn died and is only now being wrenched out of his nightmare, waking into a world that is far different than when he left it. Everything’s been on pause for so long. Hitting play feels like coming back to a reality he barely recognizes. A person he barely recognizes.

He hadn’t realized how much he didn’t like himself until there was nothing to distract from it. And maybe it isn’t his entire self, per say, but who he’s turned into. The person that’s been morphed together after the tiring, tumultuous year they’d all had. The stress, the anxiety, the exhaustion, personified. Even the littlest things – the tiny, stupid, don’t matter in the grand scheme of it, things – make him angry.

He’s been living on fumes for too long and everything feels like it’s at a breaking point. He’s trying to hold on to the reins, but they’re slipping out of his hands too quickly and he’s too tired to keep running to catch up. His life feels like it’s unraveling and it scares him, because he has never been this person. He has never been unable to keep going, unable to push through, to carry on, put all his stock into the rainbow on the other side and his nose down until he reaches it.

But everything that’s happened in the past few years, high school, and Karofsky, and all the little things he let go, all the things he said were okay and tried to move past and eventually decided didn’t mean anything anymore, never truly went away. They laid dormant for a while, so much so that he’d just about forgotten about them, until they decided to come back with a vengeance. Like he’s being reminded of how messed up his life is, because for once, hewas the one to cause it.

He’s spent so long being too gay, or too fragile, or too feminine, to get the things that he really wants. There’s always been something he couldn’t control, something inherently wrong with him, which keeps him from getting anything on the first try. It always takes extra work, extra effort, the need to prove that he does deserve it and has earned the role, or the solo, or the opportunity that is almost inevitably given up to someone else.

Maybe a small part of him thought that Blaine would be like that too.

The proposal wouldn’t be enough to propel them into a lifetime of happiness.

It couldn’t be that easy.

He wouldn’t get to be that happy.

There is so much wrong with him. Kurt knows that. He knows he can be bitchy, sometimes cold, often not someone that’s easy to get close to. He knows he has a tendency to hold everything in until he reaches a breaking point and lashes out.

He knows he’s angry. He knows he’s in pain.

And he knows Blaine didn’t need to see any of it, didn’t deserve any of it. Blaine was too good, too warm, too unimaginably kind, to deserve these parts of him. He didn’t want their relationship to turn into it, go sour and stunted until Blaine began to resent him.

Blaine loved him anyway. In spite of everything. Blaine’s capacity for love was so massive and unlimited, and Kurt couldn’t understand it. Blaine wanted to work on things, always, and Kurt didn’t understand that, either. He’s spent his entire life trying desperately to be okay, to be enough, for people, to not be a problem they will one day resent solving and decide to abandon by the side of the road. People don’t want a mess. They don’t want someone who’s broken. They don’t want to be there when the going gets bad.

But everything is just so much, and Kurt has never been more tired of fighting.

He can’t hide it anymore. Can’t compress it down and pretend it isn’t happening. A recent study session with Elliott turned into a minor – he would deem minor, although Elliott would definitely evaluate it way worse – breakdown over one of his theory papers. What should’ve been some simple frustration over his inability to phrase his argument was instead far more loaded, the depths of his anger and stress seeping through, unable to be contained.

Maybe talking is – finally – what he needs. He’s tried everything else.

He reaches over and into the pocket of the jacket he wore a couple days ago, and pulls out the card Elliott pushed into his hand as they left the coffee shop. For the therapist I used to see when I first got to the city, Elliott had told him. She really helped me sort through some stuff, and I know she can help you too.

Call, he had urged quietly. Please, Kurt. It doesn’t have to be like this.

It isn’t the first time Elliott’s brought up seeing a therapist. That was his first suggestion when Kurt broke the news of his and Blaine’s breakup. Kurt had ignored him then, insisted that the breakup was all he needed. He’d be fine.

But the lump in his throat has been there for weeks, and he is so tired of being on the verge of tears all the time.

That’s what he tells himself, as he grabs his phone. His fingers shake as he puts in the number and presses ‘call’.

He’s so tired of being tired.

[squishneedsahero]

Instinctive

It’s Who I Am

Part 1

Description: How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.

Word Count: 2603

You woke up for the morning, and it took you a moment to get your bearings. This had always been a problem for you, HYDRA had tampered with your mind from when you were a tween up until only a few years ago. HYDRA had taken things from your mind and put what they had wanted in. This had left you broken, able to remember somedays and not others, waking up and not knowing where you were, one moment you'd be at home and the next time you're aware of anything you're in a grocery store.

Since you had been released by HYDRA you had learned more about your past such as the fact that you were the daughter of Howard Stark, younger sister of Tony Stark, Ironman. You couldn't remember any of this though, you just had to take the word of other people saying that that was who you were. Six months ago you had come back along with half the universe, this lapse of time wasn't anything new to you so you were able to keep going better than billions of others. But the world was broken and you felt the need to help some way, some how.

You kept a journal, writing down all that you knew and remembered one day to the next. This helped you keep a better grasp of reality and your life but things were still spacey. But your urge and desire to help kept pushing at you despite that you were struggling to get your life together. You had a niece and a sister-in-law who tried to help, but you didn't know them, as much as they wanted to know you, you couldn't let them in.

One day the desire to act on that urge you had, the urge to help people readjust to their lives, to make up for the damage you had done while under HYDRA's control. The option to act on that urge presented itself. It was as you were sitting on the edge of your bed after waking up, you were scrolling through your phone when something caught your eye. It wasn't the new Captain America the government had presented, but it was the group called the Flag Smashers. They had attacked and robbed a Swiss bank, why this caught your attention you weren't sure but you knew you needed to look into them.

Despite not having a very good memory you were still smart, things engraved in your mind, knowledge you didn't have access too until you were using it. It was easy for you to find out more about the flag smashers because of this ingrained knowledge which you held. That small lead was enough for you to follow, you tell Pepper you're leaving and will be back later, later meaning eventually. From there you go out to the garage, where you had been busy building things in order to keep your mind occupied.

You had made yourself a suit, not like your brother's, not like Pepper's or Peter's or any other one which Tony had made. You put on the suit which you had built, it wasn't painted or anything, it was just the colors of the materials you had created it with. Your suit was just an experiment, basically a t-shirt and leggings that you had made it possible to fly with. The only other thing it did was record where you had been and what you did while wearing it, to help you remember.

You put on your suit, and put in the coordinates of where it is you're wanting to go then you take off. It doesn't take long for you to get where you're wanting to go in your suit, it's light and comfortable allowing you to move without restriction. It's when you enter the old warehouse that you hear voices ahead of you, you move quietly towards the voices, something you had learned during your time at HYDRA, despite not being sent out on missions.

It's as you round a corner that you see a man standing down the hallway in front of you. You quickly duck back around the corner, only to back into a wall. No scream leaves your mouth as a hand covers it to prevent any noise from being heard. Tears come to your eyes as the cold metal of the hand covers your mouth, unremembered memories causing you to panic. Fear begins to shut down your body and your knees give out from under you.

It's as your legs give out that the man behind you speaks, "who are you?"

Your heart in your throat, your mouth doesn't move to try and answer and thats when that other man who had been down the hallway in front of you comes around the corner. Your eyes meet his and there is a moment of recognition. "Hey, Bucky, let her go, she's good."

Theres a pause before the metal hand lifts from your mouth and the man in front of you catches you, helping you gain your balance before he lets go.

The moment his hands leave your shoulders your spunk comes back. Quickly recovering from the fear the feel of that metal hand over your mouth had brought upon you. The feeling of a cold metal hand over your mouth was hauntingly familiar, there was a reason it scared you even if you couldn't remember why.

The moment the man's hands leave your shoulders you turn and look at the man behind you, who had grabbed you, and you see his eyes, eyes you had seen many times before. The man in front of you recognizes you and seems to regret grabbing you, "sorry," he says softly, confirming that fact.

"It- it's fine... you're-" theres a pause as you take a good look at his face, making sure it is solidly in your mind, "Bucky." Then you turn and look at the other man, "and you're," a pause as you study his face, "Sam... Wilson?" you ask.

"Yes, thats me, Sam Wilson, you're y/n Stark right?"

You nod, "yeah, thats me..." your heart rate finally slows and you gain your composure. Your few pieces of memories concerning these two told you you could trust them and that they were most likely in that warehouse for the same reason you were, "I'm here to help." Then theres another pause, "I don't- I cannot remember a lot but I want to help."

Sam and Bucky look at each other for a moment before nodding to one another. They both know the stubbornness of the Starks, and Bucky unfortunately knows you better than you seem to know yourself, and he knows that there is no convincing you to not help. "Alright, come on," Sam says and tilts his head a bit to signal for the three of you to continue the way you all had individually been heading.

It doesn't take the three of you long to come to where it is that the flag smashers were loading the trucks with the stolen medicine and other supplies. Bucky goes to rush in and Sam stops him, you wait, taking your time to follow behind them, unsure of yourself even if you knew you wanted to be there to help. As soon as there is the possibility of a hostage and the trucks begin to move Bucky takes off running and Sam flies after him. You shake yourself out of your stupor of thought, spacey as always as you try to hold your mind together, then you take off  after them, gaining easily as your suit allows you to fly faster than Sam and Bucky can move.

The next thing you know you watch as Bucky is thrown from the back of the leading truck and into the windshield of the one following behind. A fight quickly breaks out and you are more than able to hold your own. The only time in your life you remember fighting was when you fought Thanos but you reflexively knew how to move, how to defend yourself and fight back against those much stronger than yourself.

You roll with the punches able to intercept and avoid as needed, at one point you feel a rib crack as you take a hit and make a note to make your suit more protective the next time you have a chance to work on it. The first thing that shocks you during the fight is when a shield flies over your shoulder and knocks a flag smasher back from you.

When that happens you turn to see the man who had been named Captain America now standing on the truck, fighting along side them, along with another man. The flag smashers are stronger than them though, they knock Bucky off the truck and Sam has to rescue him, sending the both of them flying off into a field. You, despite coming here alone to fight, didn't want to continue this fight alone, considering yourself alone as you don't trust this Captain America person, he just gives off bad vibes.

You jump off the truck and fly off to find the two men you had joined. They're already up and moving again when you land beside them and Sam looks at you, "you left?" He sounds a bit surprised, you don't know him, he doesn't know you and obviously the connection you share with Bucky isn't a good one yet here you are, leaving the fight to find the two men.

You shrug, "most of my memories are from the last 6 months... I don't know many people," you glance at Bucky as you walk along side him, "but the two of you are at least familiar. I don't know either of those guys so I'm trusting my instinct since thats about all I have."

They both nod a bit, "well, welcome to the team I guess," Sam says before changing the topic back to the flag smashers and what it is they could be doing and how they had definitely been fighting against super soldiers. You stay relatively quiet, only jumping in when you had. something to share from the research you had done into them to even know you'd be able to find them here. To be completely honest Sam is surprised by how different you are from your brother, he didn't expect you to be a replica of Tony because of the fact you had basically been raised by HYDRA but other than that from what he had heard you were vary similar in attitude to Tony. You still had that stubborn and sometimes arrogant air about you that Tony had, even if you were quiet and didn't offer as strong of an opinion as Tony always had.

All too soon your conversation is interrupted by a jeep pulling up and driving alongside the three of you. "That didn't go as planned, huh?" That John Walker guy attempts to start a conversation and the Jeep stops for a moment and the back door opens for the trio to get in, but then silently the trio decides to just keep walking, not getting in.

The jeep continues to drive beside you Sam and Bucky, John continues to try and talk, and only gains a response when he brings up wizards, and Bucky immediately says, "there's no such thing as wizards."

"Alright, then it's aliens or androids-"

"Or super soldiers," Sam interjects.

"Super soldiers? For real?" asks the man who seemed to be John's partner, not that kind of partner, they're just a couple of guys being dudes, what could be better than that?

"Alright, then we gotta work together," the captain says.

Only to be interrupted by Bucky once again, "that's not happening."

Eventually this conversation just leads to Bucky being passive aggressive and John insisting the three of you get a ride to the airport with him. Once all of you are in the truck you take a moment to stare at both John and Lemar as you come to learn his name is, you try to memorize their faces. You don't catch much of what is said during this time besides that they used Sam's tech to track them and John claiming to be the government.

Finally John gets uncomfortable with Bucky's staring and turns to look at you, only to be greeted once again by someone staring at him, "do they always just stare like that?" he asks Sam.

"You get used to it," Sam replies.

This is when you decide to finally say something, "I need to make sure I know your faces."

John looks at you, he hadn't been prepared to have you there with Sam and Bucky so it takes him a moment to place you. "Why do you need to do that Ms.Stark, need to get to know your new coworker's faces?" He asks, once again using that cringy friendly smile that seems glued to his face.

You see no problem with honesty so you just say, "No, Josh. You see I have a few memory problems, I don't know you so I'm trusting my gut. And its as simple as me needing to be able to pick you out of a crowd seeing as my gut says not to trust you."

After that you hear a slight noise to your right and glance over to see Bucky not even trying to hide the slight laugh he had let out at John's expense.

John doesn't know what to say to that, surprised by your blatant honesty so he pauses for a moment and gains composure before saying, "it's actually John Walker, not Josh."

You simply shrug, taking not of the fact that misnaming him had struck some sort of nerve with him. Sam and Bucky take back over, looking to Lemar and asking who the hell he is.

"Lemar Hoskins."

"Look, I see a guy in tactical gear hanging out of a helicopter I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins," Sam says.

"I'm Battlestar, John's partner."

"Battlestar?" Bucky asks in disbelief. "Stop the car," he shouts for the jeep to come to a stop before he climbs out as John tries to stop him.

You move to get out as well, not wanting to deal with them at the moment. As you do that John gives Sam a little speech about how he isn't trying to be Steve, but it would be easier to be Captain America if he had Captain America's "wing man" at his side.

"It s always that last line," Sam scoffs before following you and Bucky down a path.

You're clenching your jaw as you walk, Sam notices and takes a moment to ask, "you good, y/n?"

"I'm fine, just trying to decide why I don't like him." You pause a moment before turning to look at Sam again, "I should get going." You pause and lift your arms, showing your shirt, "I need to go fix this thing, so that next. time I don't crack another rib."

Sam looks at you for a moment, "wait you're just walking around with a cracked rib like it's nothing?"

You shrug, "yeah, it hurts but like it's not that bad."

Sam shakes his head, "told you earlier that you're a part of this team you might as well just catch a ride with us, especially if you're planning on just coming right back once you get fixed up."

Theres a moments pause as you turn once again to look at him, offering a small smile, one of the first you've shared in a while, "alright... thanks."