#i finally have time and energy to work on them!!

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Just a little reminder that everyone has a feminine and masculine side, so don't hesitate to read the messages for your masculine side too.

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Pile One 🕺

BEYONCÉ - COZY

Right away, I’m detecting that this pile is trying to work through some bitterness and that’s ok. I get the gist that this collective is aware of this and are either accepting of it or in denial of it because of the assumption that it’s embarrassing or demeaning to feel that way. I always want to remind people that it’s okay to feel negative emotions. Having them is not what defines you but how you choose to express them is how it truly characterizes you. It feels like this brooding energy is like a seesaw or a visual representation of tug of war, because it’s happening in two different directions. This pile could be in limbo with trying to reach the other side of realizing your self-worth. There’s bitterness split into two directions. Acerbic agony over “why not me?” in terms of finding people who accept and match the love that you give to others and “why me?” when it comes to jealousy and vitriol that makes you afraid of your own potential for success and dim your light. What your feminine side is asking of you is to stop watering yourself down because you feel it’s safer that way to be under others. Take note of the vibe that you get from this channeled song because it’s time to get “cozy” with who you are and take some initiative in the lessons that you’ve been through by talking your shit. You sat with your pain long enough to know its beginning but to finally decide how YOU want to create its end. If you’re in a funk where it’s making you feel meek and want to self-sabotage, reach deep inside yourself to know that the answer isn’t to revert back to old patterns and lies that people told you to keep you stuck because they don’t want to see you grow. Get cozy with yourself because you must understand that every step of the way isn’t going to be comfortable all of the time but I feel that a lot of you are at a point where things are getting worse before they get better. It could be something external going on, but I feel that it’s mostly mental. You’re going to come out of this even stronger than before and you’re going to move differently and choose differently but also get an upgrade relating to speech. How you talk to yourself will improve, you’ll speak with more confidence, and your words will match exactly with your feelings when it comes to communicating with others. The main thing that I am seeing here is no longer trying to make accommodations that make you suffer in the end just to protect another person’s ego.

Pile Two 🕺

BEYONCÉ -MOVE

I’m sensing a lot of completion with this pile. If you’re not in this new energy yet, prepare for people making a lot of misconceptions about you. You could be accused of being aloof or have people nitpicking or trying to diagnose you based on little to no evidence. It doesn’t have to be this exact situation but what I first would like to point out is that it’s like, you’re floating down this river, unphased, and just flowing with the currents. Or that you’re water itself, becoming mutable with your form but regardless of what changes are made, you’re still water. If you’ve experienced intense feelings over people ghosting you or just not prioritizing you in the past, I’m seeing that you’ll be at a stage where you understand that what those people did wasn’t at all right and you’re no longer internalizing it with your thoughts and actions, but in other words, you’re not going to be that person anymore that’s waiting for a text. You’re not going to wait for people to act right, wait for other people’s approval, or postpone your life for people who like to play with your time. I’m getting the message that you shouldn’t stop yourself from doing whatever it is that you think about doing because “they will talk about you either way”. This could apply to promoting yourself in some way, maybe for a new job opportunity, or just taking a chance to improve your health. You may have anxiety of thinking that maybe there’s no point in trying to see what you can do for your body because you’ve been stagnant for years because of circumstances that weren’t really in your control, like finances or being dependent on a toxic parent. This could also be something else, but either way it’s like you’re afraid of what you could hear, possibly something negative or even just a “no”, but I’m hearing you can’t make that judgment without trying, because you might actually receive a yes, assistance in getting back on your feet again, or good news about your timing in getting something done before you could miss out on what’s important.

Pile Three 🕺

BEYONCÉ - CUFF IT

A rebirth is needed for this pile. There’s a lot of indulgence that feels mindless and endless because you’re seeking to satiate a need or needs but there are people who are already aware of this but are in need of confirmation for which way is the right direction to go. It’s about experiencing everything for the first time all over again. Not in a dreadful way to make you suffer, but to soothe any worries over not finding happiness if you don’t have that “one thing”. If you’ve been tested recently on remaining brave in your decision to part ways with someone but are having second doubts or the fear that you’re going to miss out, maybe that “need” that you have can be replenished by just being around your family to remind yourself that you aren’t lacking love and support around you. If you’re feeling “sexual”, maybe it isn’t sex that you necessarily need and that it’s just your soul telling you to create. If you’ve been used to seeking answers through spiritual measures but are still left confused, then maybe that’s a sign that it’s time to step back and take a break from the unseen and to come back and relearn how to go through life from just being instead of trying to know everything. Even if it isn’t those specific scenarios previously mentioned, you’re on a journey of wisdom of learning that a lot of the things that you’ve considered as losses haunting your everyday life, were not really losses, because they can be replaced by something else that’s going to lead you into falling more in love with yourself.

[milqueandsugar]

🌼☕` Breakfast In Bed `☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / Alastor

It was never easy keeping secrets from him. You didn't have many to hide, but the ones you had always came to light. That only meant you had to work a little harder to impress him, something you were very willing to do.

As quickly and carefully as you could you folded the mix of blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries into the batter, the once pale beige leaning a bit more pink. He would be up soon, lucky for you he was a man of habit and in all your years sharing a bed with him he had never risen before five am. If he ever rose at all. It was only recently, and because of you, he dedicated his nights to sleeping rather than lurking around the hotel or the city of Pride.

You glance up at the clock, 4 45, just enough time to fry up the pancakes and serve them before he wakes. Finally, a surprise.

"What's this now?"

God damn it. Or Lucifer, any deity you could think to swear to you do.

"How! You're never up before five!" You gasp, exasperated, tired from creeping out of bed at four in the morning and more irritated than anything else.

"You weren't in bed." He said simply, like an obvious fact as he draped himself over you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. He was only ever affectionate in public like this when he had upset you. You weren't really annoyed, you weren't even surprised really. You learned to expect anything really while being with the radio demon. "What's the point of sleeping if you aren't in my arms?"

"Don't be romantic I'm annoyed with you."

"hmmm? Is that why you were trying to make me breakfast in bed?"

"Shut up Alastor."

"If that's what you want." He pecks you on the cheek, a simple gesture but your heart flutters all the same. He spins you around, dipping you low before taking you by the hands and leading you to the crooked little kitchen table that no one really used. His shadow pulled the chair out for you, miming blowing kisses towards you.

It was Alastors time to cook, humming and swaying his hips like it wasn't before the sun of hell had even risen yet. You envied his energy. He fried the pancakes, flipping them perfectly and dramatically, the smell of the cooking berries made your stomach growl. He pulled two plates from the cupboard, his smile faltering at the sorry, chipped state of them before tossing them into the trash and summoning his own. He plated the pancakes equally onto both plates, summoning cream, fresh berries, syrup and jam for the table before setting your plate in front of you. Strawberries appeared on the top pancake in the shape of a heart and when you looked up he held his head in his hands, eye brows raising at you in anticipation.

You furrow your brows in thought, before scooping some whipped cream onto your finger and smearing it across his forehead in playful retaliation.

"you're forgiven, you may speak now."

"Of course, my dear."

He took your hand in his before you could properly pull it away, kissing each knuckle before licking the whipped cream from your finger. He shot you a grin.

"My, my, your as red as the strawberries."

"I change my mind, shut up again."

[ckret2]

Chapter 52 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: the Pines get their hands on a book that, they hope, might explain Bill's entire history.

And Ford, Dipper, and Mabel debate the ethics of executing a wanna-be tyrant who recently saved their lives.

"Hey, hey you with the inner eye! How'd your show go, inner eye?"

"Did you read anybody's mind?"

"Did you get next week's lottery numbers?"

"Yeah! Did you predict when anyone's gonna die?"

Brag one time about identifying somebody's cancer and nobody lets it go for years. As the triangle stuffed his bookbag in his locker, he tried to ignore the square and rectangle laughing at him down the hall. Every time he missed a few days of school so his parents could haul him to a speaking engagement several states away, he got this when he got back. They knew he couldn't read minds and they knew he couldn't tell the future. They didn't care; they just wanted to make him mad. If he tried to correct them, they'd just laugh at him for caring about what they said.

"How come your inner eye's on the outside, inner eye?"

"Yeah, shouldn't it be in your stomach?"

"Can you see the ghosts from in there?"

He slammed his locker and turned toward the square leading the harassment. "You know what, I did have a vision at the show," he shouted. "I saw who your real dad is! Hey, did you mom ever get that mutt fixed?"

He didn't need to tell the future to know he'd better run for it. He bolted for class.

He'd missed the last three days of school so he could wow the crowds by telling them what was in their pockets, while his parents talked about cleansing negative energy from their spirits or some junk like that; and he'd come back just in time for a history test he hadn't studied for.

He wasn't worried. He was sitting behind the smartest line in class. On test days, the teacher set up cardboard barriers between everybody's desks to prevent them from reading each other's tests, and he took it on faith that this worked on the other students; but for his own part, the barriers were so thin that sometimes he walked into them without noticing they were there. He just looked straight past them as if they didn't exist. He had a clear view of the smart line's test.

As he bolted for his classroom, he could see through the walls that the line was already in there, talking to the teacher. He slowed down his mad dash before reaching the doorway and came in at a stroll, just in time to hear her quietly say to the teacher, "Just for this test, can I switch seats? I don't want to sit by..." She trailed off when she caught the triangle coming in; she and the teacher both stared.

He stared back, irritation flaring up, and snapped defensively, "What?" What did she care if he copied her test? It didn't cost her anything and it didn't make her do any extra work. Wasn't it considerate to help a fellow classmate out? Why should she be selfish about her test?

The square and rectangle tumbled into the room, advanced on the triangle, saw the teacher watching, and shoved past him to get to their own seats. They glared at him as they passed, but didn't say anything. Yeah, that's right, look who got the final word in.

To the line, the teacher quietly said, "Don't worry about it, just get ready for the test." She raised her voice. "All right, settle down, everyone at your desks. Put your notes away. This is a long test, so we're starting immediately." Several students grumbled in dismay.

The triangle couldn't be more delighted. The teacher didn't believe in psychic abilities—to his benefit, since so far it had let him get away with copying other students with impunity—but she also didn't like him. He'd been sure that she'd agree to let the smart line switch seats to get away with him. But apparently she'd rather dismiss the class pet than admit that maybe it was possible for him to psychically cheat. He smugly headed for his desk, ready for the easiest test of the class.

The teacher put a hand on his arm before he could pass her. "Not you," she said. "Get your stuff from your desk, you'll be taking the test at the front of the class. At my desk."

"What!" He whirled to stare at her indignantly. "Why?!" (The rest of the class fell silent. He could feel a dozen eyes on his base.)

"Because, your last few test scores have been... unusual. I want to keep my eye on you—"

"Unusual how! My grades have been great! You should be thrilled I'm keeping up with my absences!"

"Your test grades haven't been consistent with your classroom performance," she said tersely.

The other students started to titter. His sides flushed in humiliation.

His classroom performance was abysmal. He never finished his homework (he rarely started his homework), he never had an answer when he was called on in class and usually substituted with something sarcastic that'd at least make the other kids laugh, he never did the readings, and he wasn't even sure which town he'd lost his history textbook in. Studying was boring! He had better things to do! He was a busy guy! (And why bother, when he wasn't any good at it anyway.)

"What, you think I'm too stupid to make A's?!" He planted his fists on his corners. "If I'm cheating, how!" She had the privacy walls between students on test days, she'd searched his desk twice, and during the last test she'd passed behind him like a dozen times as he filled out the answers. Sarcastically, he asked, "Am I psychically reading the other students' minds? Maybe looking at their tests through the walls with my laser vision?"

The class giggled again, but at least this time it was with him. Everyone in the school knew about his family's traveling show and the performances he put on. And everyone in class knew that the teacher thought his family's shows were scams and that he was a fraud, and she'd made that clear from the first week. The other kids believed in his abilities. He'd been in class with most of them since they started school, and his default reaction to being called a liar about his abilities had always been to do something to prove them wrong—and he'd kept doing that even after he realized that telling kids what they were hiding in their bags only creeped them out. 

But it didn't matter if all the kids believed. As long as the teacher didn't, he could get away with anything—and everyone else in class knew he was making a fool of her.

She narrowed her eye. "That's enough. Just get your pen and come to the front."

"This is stupid! You can't prove I've done anything wrong!"

"I'm not going to fight with you."

"You just hate my family, you don't have any proof I—"

"Get. Your. Pen. Or you'll be taking your test in the office."

He shot her a dark look; but stormed to his desk, snatched up his pen, and returned to the front. Times like this, he really did wish he had laser vision. He could, just, grow a laser gun out of his eye, shoot her in half...

As he passed the teacher, he muttered under his breath, "I'm telling my mom," but apparently not quietly enough, because the square who'd been bothering him all morning announced, "Hey, he's gonna tell his mommy!" and half the class laughed.

"Behave," the teacher snapped; then said tiredly to the triangle, "You can tell anybody you want, just—take your test."

Sure, she said that now. She didn't know what his mom was like when she thought her golden child was being mistreated. He'd go home whining and moaning about how unfair his teacher was, and tomorrow morning his mom would be in the front office ripping into the principal over the terrible teacher slandering and humiliating her perfect little triangle. And she was shrill. The whole hallway would hear it. Wielding his mom was a double-edged sword (or maybe double-edged whip would be a more apt metaphor): the other kids would make fun of him for weeks; but he'd definitely get what he wanted. Either his teacher would shape up, or he'd get a new teacher.

Assuming he did convince his mom he was being mistreated. His confidence waned as he waited at the teacher's desk for her to finish passing tests out to the rest of the students. What if calling in his mom backfired? What if his teacher graded his test tonight? What if his mom got there in the morning and the teacher could show her that he'd gotten almost perfect grades on his other tests, but flunked the one where he'd been forced to sit at the teacher's desk? The teacher didn't believe he could see through walls, but his mom sure did—and he wasn't sure whether she'd care that he'd cheated, but she'd sure care if they could prove that he'd cheated and make her look bad. But now that he'd said he'd tell his mom, he'd look like an even bigger loser if he didn't...

The teacher set his test on her desk last. He filled out his name and stared miserably at the first question. Who was the first triangular president. How was he supposed to know? There'd been like, seven. It was a multiple choice question; he looked at the options to see if any names sounded old-timey, concluded they all sounded old-timey, and sighed in frustration. Now what? He'd heard a kid say once that if you didn't know what to guess, you should always guess C. Would he get enough right answers to pass...?

He let his all-seeing gaze drift past the test to snoop through the teacher's desk—sheets of stickers he'd never earn, eye drops, coupons to a movie theater, spicy novel... and then stopped in wonder. She'd left the answer key to the test inside her desk. Every answer, right there. This would be the easiest test he'd ever taken!

As the teacher watched in increasing frustration, he cheerfully highlighted answer after answer, pausing between each question to read a couple paragraphs from the novel in her desk to make it look like he was actually thinking.

The line at the top of the class and a couple other kids had turned in their tests by the time the triangle had finished his performance. With a flourish, he turned and presented his test to the teacher still standing behind him. "Well?" He gave her his most innocent look. "So how'd I do?" He'd almost asked her, so how'd I do it?

She glowered at him, seething; but simply took his paper and snapped, "Go back to your desk."

"Whatever you say!" Cheerfully, he sauntered back to his desk. As he passed Miss Perfect Grades, he said quietly—but not so quietly the other nearby kids couldn't hear—"You got question 7 wrong, idiot." She groaned.

Nobody would get the best of him. He was making it through this class with flying colors. Maybe the teacher was right, maybe he was stupid—but he certainly wasn't a loser.

####

As soon as he'd dressed, Dipper ran downstairs to get the phone book in Soos's office and call the library. This was it. He was rested, his schedule was free, and he was ready to read. Today, he was buckling down and reading Flatworld. He was gonna crack Bill's secret history wide open—and on top of that he'd get a leg up on a year of math, and he'd learn something big about Bill before Mabel.

Which he felt guilty for being excited about; but he figured it wasn't wrong to want to be the better twin at paranormal investigation, right? That was his whole thing. Anyway, Mabel might be grateful for it—she'd seemed annoyed at the prospect of reading a hundred year old book on math; maybe he could summarize the important parts for her, it was just like when he'd help her study for big tests...

The librarian on the phone said, "Flatworld by Edward Bishop Bishop? Sorry, our only copy is checked out."

There went Dipper's plans for the day. "When's it due back?"

"In twenty days. Do you want to put it on hold?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Dipper hung up. The Gravity Falls Library let you check out a book for twenty-one days; so somebody had grabbed Flatworld yesterday. Who else would want it?

####

Absolutely aghast, Mabel cried, "They banned colors?!"

Bill and Abuelita, sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, stared at her. Mabel was standing in the doorway, still in her pajamas, hair unbrushed, bags under her eyes, distraught. Bill said, "What?"

"On Flatworld!" Mabel dragged her hands down her face in distress. "They made colors ILLEGAL?! It's ILLEGAL to have COLORS?! That's as bad as—as—I can't actually think of anything as bad as banning colors!"

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Oh, you're reading Flatworld!"

"Bill, you've been through so much!" Mabel grabbed his shoulders. "What a traumatic childhood!"

"Mabel."

"No wonder you turned evil, I'd be evil if I grew up without coloring books—"

"Mabel. Kid."

"What!"

"Colors weren't illegal," Bill said.

Mabel paused. "They weren't?"

"They weren't. I was even born gold. I drew my house, remember? You saw the rose bushes?"

"Oh." Mabel thought about that. She planted her hands on her hips. "Then I take it back, you've got no excuse for being evil!"

"I'm devastated."

"What is Flatworld?" Abuelita asked politely.

"Book inspired by my home world," Bill muttered. "Loosely."

Abuelita nodded, puzzled. "¿Pero tú no eras del infierno?"

Bill laughed. "¡Puede ser!"

Mabel asked, "So if colors weren't banned, why did the book say they were?"

"Ahh, Eddie was a writer." Bill shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. "He took some creative liberties to make the story more exciting. He wasn't writing a history textbook."

"Which parts are true?"

Bill gave her a sly sideways glance. "Which parts pardon me from being evil?"

Mabel blew a raspberry.

In the entryway, Dipper said, "Mabel? You checked out Flatworld?"

She jogged over to him. "Yes! Augh, Dipper, you've gotta read it after me! There's some crazy bonkers stuff in here!"

"Yeah," Dipper said, mildly deflated, "sure. When did you pick it up?"

"Yesterday! I biked to the library after Bill fell asleep. I had to find out what it said. Did you realize we don't know anything about where Bill came from? I don't even know if he had dirt."

Bill had avoided looking at Mabel as she talked to Dipper, focused on eating, mouth set in a flat line; but without glancing over, he said dismissively, "Sure, of course we had dirt. It was cheap to import."

Mabel turned back to Dipper, her eyes bugging out. "He had to import dirt. I didn't know that!" 

"Okay, I get the picture."

"Here!" She dragged Dipper into the living room.

Bill looked at Abuelita. "Ask how cheap it was to import dirt."

"No."

"It was dirt cheap. Ha!"

Abuelita shook her head.

Mabel picked up the book from the end table by the sofa bed. Out of range of the kitchen, she whispered, "All that talk about the Axolotl and prophecies just kept bugging me until I read the book. I stayed up half the night! I thought maybe it'd help us remember more of the poem."

"Did it work?"

"Not yet. But I think I feel something percolating in my brain! It's coming, I know it." She pushed the book into Dipper's hands. "We've gotta talk as soon as you read it."

It was a much smaller book than Dipper had anticipated; a cover about the size of a paperback novel, but it was only as thick as one of those easy chapter books for new readers that Dipper had started devouring in second grade. Even if the text was dense, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to read.

"By the way, who put me back in my bed?" Mabel asked.

"Oh. Bill d—" The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood on end as he realized something he'd been too tired to notice last night. "Bill did."

"Aww, that's sweet of him," Mabel said.

"But Mabel," Dipper hissed. "I don't know how he got through the bedroom door."

####

Ford shut his journal and turned his desk chair to face the children. This was serious enough to warrant his full attention. "You're sure you didn't prop the door open last night?"

"Positive," Dipper said. "We talked about it. We decided it would be safer if Bill was stuck in one spot and had to ask to leave."

"The doorknob's been busted since the tooth fairy broke in," Mabel said. "Maybe Bill just pushed it open?"

Ford said, "Under the terms of the curse, he shouldn't even be able to do that much. It's supposed to magically prevent him from remembering or imagining any way to get through a door." Still, he made a mental note to ask Soos to repair the door as soon as possible. They ought to at least remove the possibility that Bill might have found a loophole.

"Could the curse be wearing off?" Dipper asked. "Maybe you just need to do it again?"

"This isn't a curse that should wear off. It was originally designed to keep hidden treasures guarded for a thousand years—and as far as I know, the only way to remove it is for the person who placed it to lift it," Ford said. "If Bill's getting through doors, either he knows a way to break the spell that he never told me, or he's found a way around the spell. Both mean bad news. For all we know, he might already be able to get through any door and is just pretending he can't."

Dipper thought back to the pitiful performance he'd seen in the bathroom. "I... don't think he's faking." Unless that wasjust a big act? Bill flung himself down staircases and stuck forks in his arms for fun; what was stopping him from writing on the walls in his own blood?

"Well, he can get through at least one door." Ford got to his feet and began pacing up and down the length of his study. "On top of that, by now he's revealed he can see through walls, see the future, see in the dark, and see who knows what else in other dimensions... He's trying to befriend Wendy, he's already befriended—" he cast a guilty look at Mabel, "... one of us, and I suspect he's getting into Stan's head... He has a standing weekly appointment to network with the mayor, the sheriff, and the deputy... He could be up to almost anything by now. I'm afraid he's right on the verge of slipping through our fingers. If only we could get that blasted fuel! We need to destroy him before he finds a way to escape for good—"

"Wait," Mabel said. That alone was enough to make Ford flinch. "Didn't he just save you guys' lives yesterday?"

Dipper winced, but Ford didn't seem surprised that Mabel knew; he just averted his gaze and sighed. "I know. And I'm..." he wrestled with his words until he reluctantly conceded, "grateful that he did. But even so—"

"Grunkle Ford! How can you still hate him after that?!"

Ford pressed his lips together to avoid saying pretty easily. "It's not about hatred, Mabel. It's an issue of the greater good."

"The gr—pbbbt!" Mabel blew a raspberry and flung her arms in the air. "Come on!"

Dipper said, "Grunkle Ford's right. Even if Bill isn't just trying to manipulate us somehow... if he had a chance, he'd still take over the world."

"Exactly," Ford said. "Two lives isn't a sufficient down payment to let him purchase the rest of our reality. We must put the safety of the universe first, and... put our consciences second."

Mabel looked between them in disbelief. "It's not a down payment, it's—it's progress. It means he's changing for the better! Guys, you don't know what the world he came from is like!" She pointed at the book Dipper was carrying. "Of course he's evil after how he grew up! Maybe he just needs some people to be nice to him and he'll learn to be nice back!"

"He grew up more than a trillion years ago," Ford said. "That's over seventy times longer than our entire universe has existed. He's had plenty of chances to outgrow his upbringing. I'm sure somebody's been kind to him in that time." He'd been kind to Bill.

"Then why is he being nicer now? First he was nice to me, now he's been nice to you two—if he keeps getting nicer to more and more people..."

Ford shook his head. "He could be nice to the whole world and it wouldn't mean he's any different."

"How do you know?!"

"How often does he talk to you about his plans for Weirdmageddon?"

Mabel fell silent, thinking uncomfortably about all the times he'd freely told her what boring animals he planned to upgrade once he'd conquered the world, or which fun places he wanted to destroy with his alien friends, or which laws of physics and spacetime he planned to change. She thought about all the times he'd expressed his gratitude by swearing to shed blood or rearrange stars on her behalf.

"He doesn't see befriending his future victims as a conflict of interests. So why wouldn't he start Weirdmageddon again?" Ford asked. "He doesn't feel remorse over a single thing he's done."

Mabel thought about Bill offering to put back the stolen ring at the mall.

Dipper thought about Mabel's Fault.

But did that really prove he felt remorse?

"But—doesn't he ever get a chance?" Mabel's voice was thick. "How do you know if he'll be selfish next time if you don't let him try? He can do better, I know it! He just needs a chance to prove it!" She looked pleadingly at Ford, then at Dipper. "What if he could be good this time? What if he could help?"

Dipper had to avert his gaze. "If we were talking about shoplifting or vandalism, yeah, but... if we give him a chance and he lets us down, it's the end of the world. We can't risk that."

Ford knew Bill would be just as selfish this time, because Ford knew Bill. Because Ford had heard, throughout the multiverse, on world after exploited world, just how selfish Bill had been for billions and billions of years. Because as far as Bill was concerned, he didn't have any reason to change outside of the fear of death—and fear never made anybody better. But Ford said, "His second chance is whatever he can do between now and whenever we find or make a fuel that will let us destroy him. But once we can..."

Mabel's face scrunched up as she fought not to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut, crossed her arms, and lowered her head.

"Mabel..." Dipper reached for her shoulder.

She shook him off and shook her head; but she said, voice muffled by the collar of her sweater, "I know. You're right. He's too dangerous." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Ford said.

"It—it's fine." She wiped her eyes and turned away. "I'm gonna get breakfast."

"Mabel, wait," Ford said. "You... know not to mention any of this conversation to Bill, right? Even if you want to help him, it might just make him pretend to be better long enough to fool us—or escape entirely, if he's found a way how yet..."

She turned to give him a teary-eyed frown; but she said, "I won't. I promise." She got into the elevator to head upstairs.

Ford sighed and sank back down into his chair. Should he have done more to keep her from Bill? Used his summer guardian privileges to ban her from talking to him, and dealt with the relationship fallout? What he and Stan really should have done was just send the kids home. He'd thought this would all be over weeks before now.

He didn't think Mabel would betray them for Bill. He hoped not.

But this was going to break her heart.

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper said. "About the fuel we need to power the Quantum Destabilizer..."

Ford sighed. "The impossible-to-synthesize paradox fuel?"

"Actually... I think I have an idea."

####

In order to generate NowUSeeitNowUDontium, Fiddleford had said, they needed a paradox: someone to simultaneously both observe but not think about and think about but not observe the miniature particle accelerator as the experiment was run. Fiddleford had tried to cheat by using a pair of twins, hoping they'd be similar enough that they could still generate Dontium, albeit at a much slower rate; but to no avail. Which left them at a road block. How could one person both observe and not observe and think about and not think about the experiment at the same time?

Dipper thought he might have found away.

Bill had made a comment last night that stuck with Dipper, about how his body stared at nothing while he was outside it. (He'd called him "stupid looking." That was the real reason it had stuck with Dipper.) Would that meet the criteria of the paradox? A body that was looking at the experiment, but not thinking; and then if his soul was thinking about it but not looking...

Ford thought it was worth a shot. He could call Fiddleford and propose it. "As long as you're sure you want to try?" he asked Dipper. "You only just figured out you've been slipping out of your body—and too long a separation without anything occupying your body might kill you. And who knows if there's more risks we don't know about yet?" Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "We can still look for other possibilities first. You don't need to be a hero."

Dipper scowled. All he could think of was Bill capturing Ford, laughing at him as he turned him into a statue, burning up his journals in front of Dipper's eyes: Don't be a hero, kid. This is what happens to heroes in my world!

"I'm going to do it," Dipper said. "And we should do it now. Before I lose my nerve."

Ford frowned. "I'm serious, Dipper. If you're afraid—"

"I didn't mean that," Dipper said. "I mean—about Bill. He did just..."

"Ah," Ford said. "Yes. There's that."

It had been easier to treat the issue like it was black and white when Mabel was in the room—when she saw it all in black and they needed to balance out her perspective with white. But when she was gone, and the muddled shades of gray crept in like fog?

Dipper could still see Bill gloating as he kidnapped his great uncle and burned the journals; but at the same time, he could also see Bill angrily muttering under his breath as he delicately reeled in Dipper's body by a thread, and then rushing to the cliff's edge to drag Ford to safety. Safety of the universe aside—it felt wrong to plot to kill the guy who'd just saved them.

After an uncomfortable silence, Ford said, "But it doesn't change anything else he's done."

"Yeah," Dipper said, "it doesn't change anything." All the same, his stomach twisted with guilt. He wondered if Ford's did too.

Ford sighed heavily. "I'll call Fiddleford."

####

Fiddleford was wary about trying a new strategy, although for different reasons: he didn't want to change their method to create Dontium before he'd spent several days calculating how the new variables would affect the experiment. But desperate times... He agreed they needed to do whatever they could before Bill found a way to escape.

Dipper went upstairs to grab his backpack. He didn't even unpack all his camping equipment; he just shoved in his journal and Flatworld, and headed back downstairs.

Meanwhile, Ford tracked down Soos in between tour groups to ask him to fix the kids' door.

To Ford's surprise, Soos looked uncomfortable at the request. "Dude, are you sure that's... y'know... necessary?"

"Even if Bill weren't a threat, it would need to be fixed sooner or later, wouldn't it? I can help when we get home if it will take too much of your time." Or maybe Stan could help, he didn't seem too busy; last Ford had seen, he was hunting through the house for a missing remote control.

"It's not that." Soos fiddled with his hands uncertainly. "It's just, I know Mabel and Bill have been getting along really well lately, and I think that's probably a good sign for Bill; and I thought, if Bill can use their door, maybe Mabel would like it if Bill can visit her a little easier?"

Ford stared at Soos, bewildered. He'd expected this out of Mabel, but Soos? "And I think Dipper would like it if he couldn't."

"True," Soos conceded.

"Not to mention ensuring he can't sneak in during the night, or snoop when they aren't home..."

"Okay, okay. You're right." Soos sighed. "I'll fix it after work."

"Thank you."

A tourist family came in, and Soos went to greet them; Ford watched him a moment. Where had that come from? Soos rarely interacted with Bill; if anything, Bill seemed to steer away from Soos, and certainly never had anything kind to say to him when they did interact.

Maybe the pet geodite had won him over. Ford shook his head and returned to the living room.

Dipper was waiting on the couch, adjusting the straps of his overstuffed backpack. Ford glanced in on Mabel having breakfast by herself in the kitchen, picking at a waffle, lost in thought; but they left without saying anything to her.

####

(Took two weeks to get the next few chapters cleaned up, but finally here it is! Hope y'all enjoyed—and we'll be hearing a lot more about what's in that book next week.)

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 5

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, PTSD, violence, mentally unstable Soldier Boy, anger issues, Soldier Boy hates everyone, Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 3032

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Present, 2022

Butcher grinned and added, “Lift your asses up, boys. We're heading to Russia. Let's see what's being hidden there that could kill.. Cuntlander.”

Butcher had been looking for any other way to terminate Homelander and was working hard to get the chance to succeed. Butcher's past was clear after everything that transpired with Stormfront, but he didn't like the quiet. He still had unfinished business with Homelander. He was willing to take a chance and find a way out, but he wasn't sure if his plan would work out well. He would fuck around and find out.

It wasn't challenging to enter the Russian basement with Temp V on his body and the boys around. When they stood near the well-guarded metal object that concealed the potential end of Homeland, they took extreme caution. They all were aware of that was their final shot. Butcher didn’t know what could he done more to end Homelander.

Kimiko and Frenchie retreated a step as Butcher approached and removed the metal object's door with ease. Frenchie's gun-wielding fingers clenched, and Kimiko attempted to peek inside the box. As the strong smoke began to reduce, MM's eyes grew wide with horror, his heart paced with distress. Butcher leaned forward and muttered, “Soldier Boy.”

Ben removed the handcuffs and the object from his face with ease as his senses began to awaken. His legs felt like jelly, and he was holding on to the metal object he was in. He couldn’t see a shit at first; everything was blurry as fuck. When he began to realize the real gravity of what was happening, he understood that he was completely naked. He was being watched intently by a few people around him. He blinked in confusion, sensing immense power beneath his chest. His muscles began to tense with fury.

“It’s okay,” one of them said with a calm voice.

That fucking calm voice, Ben thought. It was the same tone as the fucking scientists who tortured and poisioned him for years, like they were studying a fucking little rat. They were all going to pay for what they did to him.

Ben experienced an immediate increase in warmth and energy in his chest. As he exploded, he let out a painful shout and felt a wave of relief afterwards. Fuck, he thought. What the fuck was that? What they have done to him? He was aware that he had to leave the region as soon as possible. He needed to get out from the lab as quickly as he could before they caught them again.

Ben then remembered you. He was informed that Vought had punished you for treason by shipping you to Russia in a metal box where you would be subjected to the same smoke that he had breathed for decades. You were nowhere to be found, even though he tried his hardest to locate and rescue you. When he realized that fucking Crimson Countess had betrayed him, it was too fucking late. She would be the first to die.

He would track them down and rip their limbs off for their betrayal. Stan Edgar would be the fucking second among them, if he was still alive. He had to find you first, though. He didn’t know what exactly happened to you. He didn’t want to think the possiblity of your betrayal. Ben had done unforgottable things to you, hurt your heart pretty bad, after all. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Ben stuck into an airport after he stole some clothes and illegally boarded a passenger plane bound for America, New York. It was the city that he had known you had been last time he remembered. However, he got confused seeing huge buildings and crowd. The city was nothing like he remembered at all; there was huge screen around, everywhere. Ben paused for a moment and thought what he should do. Everything he knew had changed and he didn’t feel like fit in there.

A nearby location played Russian music on the radio that Ben heard as he wandered down Manhattan's street. He recalled all of the torture and shit he had endured over the years. Back in Russia, he experienced the same overwhelming sensation in his chest. He struggled to control this new power without drawing attention to himself or doing any harm, but the terrible memories overpowered him so much that he was unable to control it and let out a loud groan as he exploded.

“Oh fuck,” Ben whispered when he opened his eyes. Maybe he needed to find Legend first to make a start somewhere before he exploded the whole country. Fuck, he needed you.

Butcher and MM were too late when they arrived in New York, where Soldier Boy exploded. Their eyes widened with shock, seeing the entire building burn out. There were at least ten corpses around the building. It was a big fucking mess. Butcher’s chest overwhelmed with remorse. He was the one to free Soldier Boy after all. But there were no place for soft heart at that moment.

“Where could he have fucking gone?” Butcher murmered as he wandered around, overwhelmed by the chaos in the street and hearing cryings. He wasn’t sure at this point if Soldier Boy was really controllable or not.

“Who else lives in this city?” MM said, raising his eyebrows. “Think about it.”

Butcher’s eyes widened with excitement, and he said, “Legend.”

Legend was drinking his visky in joy when Butcher, MM, and Hughie knocked on his door out of the blue. He resisted letting them in after seeing Butcher among them, but he eventually gave up and invited them in.

“I swear on my kids,” Legend said, raising both hands up. “I haven’t seen Soldier Boy.”

“You hate your kids.”

“Well, you’d hate them too if they were your kids,” said Legend with an irritated voice.

“Fuck, stop being stubborn. Nothing will happen to you. I give you my word,” MM said, trying his best to convince him to talk. Butcher’s patience was also growing thin.

“Your word? He gave his word too once. I fucking lost my leg.” Legend snapped suddenly, showing off his prosthetic leg and waving it on the air.

“You’ll have to order another one if you keep talking like that old man,” said Butcher, getting up from his couch.

“Let’s calm down,” said Hughie. He got anxious because of the heat of the moment, but nobody gave a damn about him at all, so remained silent.

Legend sighed as he kept sipping his visky, and he murmered “I thought I'd seen a ghost. Fuck, he never aged a day, despite his long, odd beard. He just took his suit, nothing more.”

MM and Butcher exchanged a look.

“It seems like he demanded something,” Butcher stated, casting Legend a wary glance.

“Well, he requested the address of the Crimson Countess. I don't know, but he appeared quite furious. I don't expect to have an enjoyable visit.”

Ben learnt that Countess had been living in a trailer before he arrived. Thankfully, it was very easy to locate the bitch. His heart filled with anger seeing she lived her life while we was burn and tortured for decades. Before he entered the trailer, Ben had seen the same cocksucker back in Russia. His eyes narrowed in confusion. He had a very punchable face.

“You’re the same asshole in the lab,” Ben said with a questioning voice.

“Yeah. I am the asshole who let you out. Your lovey-dovey countess is inside the trailer. All yours. Consider it a good gesture of faith,” said Butcher giving him a sly glance.

“Good faith for what?” Ben asked in an arrogant voice, ignoring his little stupid comment about Countess. Ben didn’t even know that cocksucker, but he had a lot of things to do, and he didn’t have time for games. He couldn’t rely on anyone either.

“I was thinking, you and I might come to an arrangement, you know.”

Ben didn’t say a word as he walked by him and went inside the trailer.

“Ben?” Crimson called him with a shaky voice. Her hands were in chains, and she was looking at him with fear. The place she lived looked pathetic to his eyes. Ben’s heart was filled with immense hatred seeing her face after all those years. How could he even spend a minute with her? “You look so young.”

“You don’t.” Without letting her talk, he inhaled deeply and asked with a calm voice, “Why did you even sell me out? How much did Russians pay you?”

“I wasn’t paid,” Countess said, closing her eyes with shame and fear. She never thought this day would come.

“What?” Ben blinked his eyes in confusion.

“What did you thought would happen? Everyone hated you so fucking much,” she went on while she was looking at him with despise. “It wasn’t my idea, but I wish it was,” she said cruelly. Ben’s grip on his shield grew tighter as she spit hatred towards him.

You also warned him that Countess would be the first to betray him if he continued to behave as he used to. It felt like it had been a day ago when you had that talk, and it was painful to realize how correct you were. He bet you would die to see his face right now.

He didn’t care what she or others felt towards him at that moment, though.

“Where is Y/N?” he asked with a firm voice as he got closer.

With a sly smile, Crimson raised her eyebrows, saying, “How could I know this? But she’s most likely napping. Perhaps in China, perhaps in Russia, who knows.”

Every time she spoke, Ben's chest grew warmer, but he had to maintain his composure in order to get to know your location. “She was already off the team. What the fuck have they done to her? And Why?”

“If anything bad did happen to her, it was due to her own naivety,” Crimson snapped. “You were the only person they intended to capture, but they also wanted to ensure that no one would come to your rescue. She tried to save you, and that was a big mistake.”

With one quick motion, Ben grabbed her throat, his glowing chest continuing, he knew it was getting out of control, but he couldn’t stop it. “I asked you a fucking question, and you'll fucking answer me,” he repeated while still strangling her.

She was attempting desperately to free herself from his strong hold, but she remained helpless, his strenght was unmatchable. Ben continued to choke her and ask the same question, and she closed her eyes in misery.

“You’ll never know. You lost the only person who wanted to rescue you. Good luck with living with this,” Countess whispered with a weak voice. Not being able to control himself anymore, Ben exploded with an angry growl.

He walked out of the trailer with a heavy heart. He considered the awful experiences you may have had for decades because of him. Despite everything he had done to you, you still loved him and attempted to rescue him. However, all he gave you was pain and suffering. You may be in a container of metal or suffering from torture right now while he was free. Feeling his shield becoming heavier in his hands, he tried to process what was happening. He fucking had let you down. He has never felt so lost.

He didn't know where to look for you because he was unfamiliar with the modern world. Even if he was still the strongest supe, he didn't feel that way at that point in time. He knew he would never give up looking for you, even if he had no idea how to find you. There was nothing that could stop him.

Ben turned to face the cocksucker who had been following after his balls since yesterday after sensing that someone had been observing him.

“It seems that you require a place to stay, don't you? After all, you are currently the state's greatest enemy.” With an encouraging smile, Butcher added, “You need our help.” He was closely gauging Soldier Boy's facial reactions.

Ben nodded and followed him out to his car. Hughie and Butcher exchanged a look and both sighed with relief that Soldier Boy wasn't hostile or anything.

Ben was given a cheeseburger and anything he wanted, including cocaine, some pills, and a drink, by Butcher in the morning. Ben needed to be in business and in shape, and he needed his fucking energy back. 

Ben continued eating his hamburger and said, “So, what exactly in the world do you two fuckfaces fucking want from me?”

Hughie turned to face Soldier Boy's enormous shield and used all of his strength to try to raise it. It was so freaking heavy that even with his best efforts, he could not get it to move an inch.

Ben angrily commanded, “Hands of the fucking shield,” to which Hughie responded with a shy smile and a mumbled apology. 

“We will assist you in locating your former teammates who betrayed you,” Butcher stated bluntly as he settled into the seat. “so that you can take your revenge.”

Ben instantly dropped the hamburger and furrowed his brows in suspicion. “But how can you manage to track them down?”

With hesitation, Hughie walked up to Ben and smiled slightly, saying, “Internet, GPS, Google Maps—you can find anyone with those things.”

Ben’s heart paced with hope as the bottom-faced guy said strange words. They could find Crimson even before him, after all. Maybe finding you wouldn’t be so hard. He had no other choice after all.

“You made those words up,” Ben said, not sure if they were talking true shit or just trying to deceive him.

“Those words are real words.”

“The kid’s right,” Butcher said as he gave a sly smile to Ben. “We will find every single member of Payback, so you can have your revenge.”

“And what do you cocksuckers want in return?” Ben asked rudely.

“We just want you to add one single person to the list. The cunt’s name is ‘Homelander’”

“Alright,” Ben responded without raising any further concerns. He wouldn't bargain when it was your life he was talking about. He could easily kill one more jackass; he'd killed plenty already. “But who is he? I’ve seen his pictures.”

When Soldier Boy didn't even hesitate, Butcher and Hughie sighed with relief and were unable to control their big smiles.

“He’s the new you,” Butcher said with a smirk.

“No one’s the new me, pal,” Ben answered with pride and arrogance, but deep down, knowing he was betrayed by his own country and team, he couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. Nevertheless, he surpassed his feelings with a smile.

So, that was it. His nation used him in every operation, every war, and anything that required a supe, but they treated him like a worthless piece of trash in return, repaying him with disloyalty. Despite everything he had done for his nation, he was ignored and treated like a rat in a lab. He realized at this point that you were the one person who had never betrayed him and that you were the only one who would care about him. He made a promise to himself that he would make everyone pay for how they treated him and you, and he would make sure you and him would rule this modern world together.

“Let me to test you. What functions does your so-called internet offer?” Ben asked Hughie seriously, changing the subject.

“Alright. It can display images, films from all eras. You can even see the space through Internet,” Hughie answered, attempting to seem straightforward and sound simple like he was talking to a child so as not to confuse him. “You can learn everything from it. Billions of people are having their job done through Internet.”

Fuck, Ben thought. How the fuck he was supposed to save you through Internet thing? He was so fucking unfamiliar with that bullshit.

“Is there a way to see a photo of a Payback member?” Ben got up and asked. The excitement in his voice was obvious. 

“Absolutely. You can even find more information about them on several websites.”

Soldier Boy was watching very carefully when Hughie asked him the name he was interested in, and Hughie then showed him your images, saying “Here.”

Ben quickly grabbed Hughie's phone and gazed at your photo with a heavy heart. Fuck, he thought to himself. Undoubtedly, the term ‘internet’ was real and it fucking knew everything. He felt helpless at that point, since he had missed you so much. To find you, he would kill anybody those fuckers needed him to.

“I need to find her,” Ben whispered, showing your picture to both of them right to their eyes like they were blind or something. “If you help me find her, I’ll help you two fuckers kill that guy, Homelander. That’s the fucking deal.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N: Consider this chapter as a transition chapter. Sorry, if it is bad. I kinda didn’t like it personally, but here we are. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! ♡♡♡

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto  @yvonneeeee @starryperson    @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara   @boywivlove   @stilinskisthings

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! -`♡´-

[eneablack]

i feel like reborn, maybe i am.

the more i go on with my journey, the more i realise how infinite the “all” is. everything is in the palm of my hands and i’m finally in control. manifesting and shifting are now basically effortless to me, they no longer feel so distant and unreachable as i used to think. i manifested a lot, i shifted countless of times as well, now my consciousness is expanding limitlessly. i no longer worry about things, or at least i don’t give them too much energy or attention, and my anxiety has almost vanished. i still have to work on lot of things, but it is quickly all adjusting itself. it all clicked, from nowhere. and i’m so grateful for this. i feel alone, yes, but i’ll come to terms with it and find a solution, i know i will fix it.

i decided to permashift, at least that’s my new plan for now. i’m going to shift to my hogwarts/marauders dr as soon as i can, and i’m gonna stay there for how much i like, probably decades. this reality doesn’t align with who i really am. i actually am not sure about my identity, but i know for sure that i’m not like i am here. my appearance, personality, social life, habits, those are not mine, together with the wars and the fears, and the overall world (plus there’s no magic here). i know it’s corny but i don’t feel any belonging here. i’m not 100% sure i won’t be coming back though, because deeply, i care about this reality. so who knows.

[captain-mj]

I saw you were posting again and I was wondering you could do something fluffy for Graves and Price? I lowkey project my chronic pain onto him and was wondering you could do smth with Graves having chronic pains as well?

Yeah of course! I actually have some headcanons that I can share!

Graves developed his chronic pain in the marines and that's a big part of why he became so disillusioned with the us military.

Price also deals with chronic pain but not nearly as bad, it's mostly in one of his shoulders and it's from an injury he got in the gulag.

They keep salt on hand for salt baths and usually they join each other if one gets in.

Graves keeps snacks by his bed for times when getting up just hurts too much.

Price is supposed to be on medication for the constant pain, but he refuses to take it consistently, worried if he gets used to it, that it’ll be harder on the field

Not real chronic pain, but both are strict about masks if they believe there’s a risk of getting sick because of how much it gets to them

Price will often let Graves lay on him so he can finally get in a comfortable position for his back

Lots of low energy activities when they’re not working like puzzles, watching tv, taking walks, etc

So soft when one is having a very high pain day

[igotanidea]

Not trying: Dick Grayson x reader

She was not trying to get his attention.

And anyone who would even come as close as to suggest that, was being scoffed at, almost laughed at, and brushed off using the classic argument of her being too busy to deal with stupid gossip.

But people were not stupid.

And definitely not the GCPD detectives and officers, of which Y/N had the pleasure to be one.

There was no way to miss the days when she was dressing differently, trying to look pretty. Days that happened to be the ones when Dick was having an office duty and wasn’t on field.

Days when she was sad and internally calling herself off when it turned out he took an unexpected day off or something kept him outside the precinct.

Days when she was faking a smile just so he wouldn’t think she was weak or something.

She was not weak.

She was human.

And in this particular case, being human came with falling in love out of the blue with the guy that couldn't care less, because –spoiler alert!- you cannot possibly plan love.

So she was hurting and cursing that part of her that made her keep on trying over and over again.

Spending days at work, full of energy not trying to get his attention, and evenings in front of TV wishing and praying for this hope to just go away and never come back. It was simply heartbreaking to have it regrow every morning just to tear it away at the end of the day.

Like freaking Prometheus with his liver.

But there was one thing similar between them.

They both suffered because of love for humanity – or in her case – one particular human.

***

It was like that for months now, and finally, all those self-doubts and sadness took over her completely.

So at work, she was avoiding people. She closed herself in her office, deciding to put that teary attitude to use to do some cleaning and remove old files.

Clean space, clean head right?

And those tears that finally started falling down her cheeks were definitely going to be helpful with dusting.

She was crying at work.

How pathetic was that?

But it was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

But now that she'd finally let her tears out, she couldn't stop, as though it was a build-up of all the times she'd held the tears in and her body just wasn't having it anymore.

And since life has a tendency to play mean tricks on people, the moment when she looked like a panda with smudged mascara and red nose that would put Rudolph the Red-nosed reindeer to shame was the exact moment her office door opened with a loud thud and the Chief walked inside.

“Y/L/N. You good?” he muttered, torn between his boss-like attitude and sudden awkwardness upon seeing one of his best detectives in such a state.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m perfect. Why?”

“Um…” the man looked at her dirty, teary face that was speaking for itself. “No reason at all. At all.”

“Is there anything I can do for you,” she inquired as she grabbed some tissues and wiped the stains away – or so she thought – actually making it worse.

“We got a crime scene. You’re going.”

Little did she know, her boss was having second and third and even fourth thoughts about putting her into investigation in this state, but no one else was available. And – to add to his desperation – the first clues were pointing to the crime of vengeance which were her specialty.

“Great. I’m coming.” She instinctively grabbed her gun from the shelf, but before it ended in her holster the boss capably took it from her, shaking his head.

“No.”

“But-“

“Y/L/N this is an order. You are not to take it.”

“But how am I supposed to-?”

“You can take Grayson.”

“WHAT!?”

“In fact, you both will be assigned to this case. This boy needs to get his head out of his ass. Maybe you’ll be the one to teach him some humility.”

“Huh. Yeah…” she stuttered with the greatest amount of sarcasm in her head. Because the woman who was In love with a man was definitely not going to add to his ego, even if only subconsciously. 

***

“Y/N!” Dick grinned, which would probably be a little less weird if he was not standing in front of a dead body.

“Grayson,” she muttered, sticking hands in her pockets, putting on the most indifferent face expression possible.

“You look different” he looked at her with an insightful look.

“Now that’s quite an observation, detective.” She mocked back. Anyone would notice her make-up less state, bloodshot eyes, disheveled clothes,  and messy hair.

“Were you busy in that little office of yours?”

“The hell, Grayson?!” Y/N instinctively reached for the gun, but obviously did not find it and sighed in frustration. Screw her boss.

“Whoa! No need to get defensive. You just look a little – I don’t know – left high and dry?”

“I swear to God, if you don’t cut that bullshit, you’ll be the next one ending up in a body bag.”

“You wanna come at me, detective?” he smirked.

“Why am I being punished with working with you…” She grabbed the bridge of her nose, squeezing it, sensing the massive migraine coming.

“Cause you’re clearly the only one who can make me get my head out of my ass.”

“Nice. Chief told you that too?”

“Nah, I just bugged your office.”

“You do realize that’s illegal, right?”

“I’ve been authorized.”

“Oh yeah? By who?”

“By my human instincts and care for my friend.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring. “You’ve been sad lately and –” the brush of his hand on hers made her shiver and – despite everything she did not want to do – take a step back.

“Let’s focus on work shall we?” She moved to talk to the CSI and technicians to get details about the traces and the technicalities.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” He shrugged “But you are boring!”

She was not boring, merely trying to save herself from any more possible heartbreak – or worse – ridicule.

***

A few weeks later, with the investigation still on, they were both buried to their necks in paperwork, searching for dots and connections and any possible explanations and seemingly invisible tracks their culprit may have left.

And working together involved late nights spent together at the precinct, countless nights of Chinese takeout and getting closer, which was both a curse and a blessing.

Blessing because she learned a lot of little details about him. Like for example that he wasn’t just the son of a billionaire who was playing a cop. Like how he actually wanted to separate himself, make a name for himself and not be only known as “the adoptive alumni of Bruce Wayne.” Like underneath all that goofy act he was actually deeply caring and involved in his work, in helping people and making the city a safer place. Like his eyes were sparkling every time he mentioned his siblings or how his mouth twitched in restrained laughter when she said something that was sarcastically funny.

And a curse, because all those little details only made her fall for him harder. And even if she skipped on that not-trying-to-look-pretty act, because investigation took much more of her time and effort, the longing was still there.

“So, what is that big brain of yours telling you about this?” he asked, throwing her off her thought that at the moment had little to do with the crime.

“About what?” she muttered, trying to figure out what he was talking about for the last couple minutes before she spaced out.

“The newest evidence obviously!” Dick laughed, rummaging through his box of beef Chinese, putting his feet on the desk.

“Hey, watch out!” Her first reaction was rushing to save the documents from the inevitable sweet and sour sauce stains.

“Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I’m going to mess anything up here.” The chopsticks were thrown up with undeniable capability, swirled in the air and landed back in his hand without any damages done to the files. “See?”

“Show off.”

“And yet, this show off made you distracted, didn’t he,” Dick asked as he leaned forward, meeting her eyes.

Too close!

“For the record—” she started and then her eyes grew wide as a sudden realization hit her. A second later, she was throwing the papers away in a haste to get to something.

“Hey! Whoa! Y/N! What-?”

“Shut up, Grayson!”

“Shit, I really have to set you up with my brother Jason. He needs a girl in his life and you two will bound hard over the love of telling me to cut on the talking and-“

“I said shut up, Grayson!” a bunch of papers hit his face. She couldn’t even bring herself to care that the man she was in love with wanted to set her up with his brother. She just figured out the entire case. All hecause of a pair of chopsticks having been thrown into the air.

“What are you looking for?”

“Here!” she exclaimed happily pointing at some pictures from the crime scenes and an alleged instrument of crime.  “See? We were wrong all along! From the very beginning. This is why he never left any traces!”

“What are you talking about? I don’t-“

“Hush. You don’t need to understand a single thing. Just grab your gun and badge and follow me. Come on, pretty boy, we don’t have much time and I know exactly where we’ll get the perpetrator.”

Dick could only stand there in his feet rooted to the ground, watching Y/N figuring the whole case out, the wheels in her brains turning faster than a race car, face flushing from excitement, pupils dilating.

Pretty and smart, even with her hair in a messy bun and plain clothes on. Or maybe – especially because of that, since jeans and t-shirts could never suppress her natural beauty?

“Grayson! Come on! Don’t freeze on me!”

“Coming,” he replied as her voice slowly reached his ears. He realized there was no way he was going to let her go anywhere alone. Even if he couldn’t understand a single thing from her rambling and running around, the least he could do was to keep her safe.

***

“Are you absolutely sure about it?”

“Are you chickening out?”

“Your hands are shaking, Y/N.”

“That’s why you are the one with a gun.”

“And killer fighting skills.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“That tone of sarcasm is completely unnecessary, you know. And after we are done please do remind me to introduce you to Jason—”

“Don’t you ever shut up?”

“Don’t you know the answer to that by now?”

Y/N sighed deeply in frustration, fighting the urge to curse at him with the strongest cursing words known to humans. And maybe even inventing a few by herself.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you sure that-?”

“Hush!” she put a palm to his mouth, noticing some movement in front of the house they were currently observing from the camouflaged car. “See that? Told you I was fucking right!”

“There’s no need to brag, you know.” He muttered, his voice muffled due to her hand still on his face.

“Admit it.”

“Admit what?” He looked at her with an incredulous look.

“That I was right.”

“Well for the record, I was the one who made you come into a conclusion-“

“Un-fucking-believable.”

She swiftly left the car, abandoning her need to hear the praise from him to the benefit of catching the culprit that has been invading her waking and sleeping hours alike. She was not going to beg for attention, this time for real, sneaking to the house the criminal ring was clearly having some sort of meeting.

And then, there was the one. Looking like a regular person, even if he was exceptionally handsome, but rotten to the core.

“See? That’s the one who-. Dick?” Y/N turned around, but not spotting her partner anywhere. Fuck! Really?! He was leaving her now?! Of all the times and places?! Now?! Was he really so jealous and self-conceited to not help her finish their joint case?

And here she was, thinking she saw something special in him. Something hidden under the surface.

Stupid heart. After all this time they spent together, seemingly building something, she was right back to the beginning, when she was not trying.

And what was she supposed to do now?

Coming inside alone? Reckless.

Calling for freaking SWAT teams? Before they would get here, the meeting of criminals would be over.

Wait till it was over and chase the leader alone?

Listen to their plan and use it later on?

She was a detective with skills, but not a spy!

And she made that one rookie mistake when leaning too much upwards she was seen.

“Hey! There’s someone outside the window!”

“Oh great…” she muttered and only a quick duck saved her head from being hurt from all the glass shattering due to the bullet fired in her direction.

“Get her! She could be a cop!”

The four men broke from the table, grabber whatever weapons they possibly could and rushed right after her.

“Fuck!” She took off running because despite her agility, speed, and quick thinking she physically was no match to the tank-like men. “Fuck you, boss for taking away my gun permissions!” She hissed to herself, running away. “Fuck you Grayson for leaving me alone! I can’t believe I fell for you!”

“You fell for me?” a familiar teasing voice echoed somewhere from behind, but nowhere to be seen.

And it made her stop.

“Dick?” She turned around to search for him.

And it was another mistake.

An iron grip on her arm and sudden harsh yank back serving as a perfect example of her stupidity.

“I got our little bird.” One of the men laughed maliciously.

“Well, I am not exactly little,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Her only chance was to tread carefully and hope that stupid fucking Grayson will figure out a way out of this mess. Stupid fucking hope that got her in said mess in the first place.

“Huh?” the goon frowned.

“I said-“

“Let the lady go.” Y/N’s words were cut off abruptly by something that seemed like Dick’s voice, but a little more… distorted?

The hell was going on here?

“I really do advise you to let the lady go.” The same voice said again.

“Oh yeah? And who’s asking me to do so? Show your face unless you are all talk.”

“Seeing me only comes once for certain people. And believe me when I say that most of those encounters end up bad when you cross paths with me.”

A man’s silhouette emerged from a few meters ahead, covered by the darkness of the night. At least at first. But as he moved closer, both Y/N and the goon froze, though either of them for a different reason.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Nightwing,” the goon hissed, tightening the grip on Y/N.

“Hello to you both. Wonderful night we are having, aren’t we?”

“I could argue with that-“ Y/N rolled her eyes. She was definitely going to have bruises tomorrow. That was, if the most talkative of the city's vigilantes wouldn’t actually cause her to end up dead. 

“Congratulations Nightwing, you got me. But there are much more of us in-“

“In that little hiding spot that’s not even properly hidden? Not sorry to break it to you, but Robin and Red Hood are currently dealing with them.”

“Huh?”

“Not very smart, are you?”

“Hey!”

As the goon was getting distracted, Nightwing (?) sent Y/N a very familiar, discreet look and she nodded almost immediately, and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle formed one clear picture.

“He’s right, you know. You are not very smart,” she picked up the tone immediately.

“Hey!”

“She is a cop,” Nightwing pointed out.

“She is?”

“Yeah, I am. And since I saw your face, I can absolutely guarantee you, I won’t stop until you are behind bars. Unless-“

“Unless obviously you surrender willingly. Maybe then she can strike a bargain for you?”

“That might actually be a possibility,” Y/N teased. “But I’m not sure. Do you think our fella here deserves to be treated lightly, Nightwing?”

“I’m not sure. Are you hurt, Y/N?”

“Can’t lie that my arm is getting a little sore here. If he keeps holding me like this we might also charge him with violation of physical integrity. That’s 3 to 5 years, I believe?”

“And in this case we’re dealing with assault on a public official. Quite an incriminating circumstance.”

“So what do you think, maximum penalty?”

“And the conspiring charges too.”

“And the murder involvement.”

“I say 15 if not more.”

“I’d say more.”

“You wanna bet?” Nightwing smirked.

“I had nothing to do with the murder!” The goon got a little overwhelmed by the quick-paced exchange of words, of which he couldn’t comprehend half of them, loosening the grip on Y/N. And she was quick to use it against him, finding her leverage in using four sensitive spots to knock the man down.

Half an hour later all four men involved were handcuffed and escorted to the police station. 

And after Y/N made her official oral deposition with a promise to submit a written report first thing in the morning, she was finally left alone for a moment of peace.

“Did you really use that Miss Agent trick?”

“It worked didn’t it?” she crossed arms on her chest, looking at Nightwing in a mocking way, without any sympathy at all.

“You know, most of the ladies I know would be at least a little grateful for me saving them.”

“Mhm. That would actually involve the saving part.”

“Let’s check. You are breathing. You are intact. Clearly neither your tongue nor your brain got damaged. Looks quite saved to me.”

“You left me!”  

“For five minutes! Not my fault you are so terrible at self-defense!”

“Not my fault you are terrible at being open with such secrets!”

“It was to protect you!”

“Dick…” she sighed heavily, daring to whisper his name.

“Y/N…” he responded, taking a few steps forward, taking her hand in the same gesture he did all those weeks ago when they started working this case together.

“I thought we were partners? At work” she added quickly

“You fell for me,” he asks, the left corner of his mouth traveling up.

“Oh, now you have a good memory?”

“Did you?”

“NO!”

“Really? No? That's your final answer. Or maybe it’s not,” he pulled her closer and wrapped arms around her waist, preventing her from running away again.

“Yes. I mean, no! I mean- damn it…”

“So, if I were to commit the act of violating the physical integrity of a public official...” he leaned forwards. “what would you say Y/N?”

“What happened to me meeting your brother?”

“I said you have to meet him. Never said why.”

“Oh? And why?” she smirked looking from above his arm to check if they were alone.

“To make him jealous, obviously.”

She chuckled softly, checking the surroundings once more, before slowly reaching to remove his mask and meeting those pretty blue eyes and familiar face.

“Hello there.”

“Hello to you too.”

Their lips were now inches away from each other.

“Which brother are we talking about? Red Hood? Heard he’s hot…”

“Do you ever shut up?” Dick grinned before leaning forward and finally capturing those lips he’s been dreaming about for weeks now.

And kissing her was effortless.

Like he was not trying at all.

[romanreignsbae]

Stressed out - R.R

SMUT❗️

Warnings💗: daddy kink, unprotected p in v, 69ing, rough sex, multiple orgasms.

Requests are open!

Y/n walked through the doors of her home, in her waste state yet. She had just had the shittiest day at work. She started off the day, without her husbands goodbye kiss because he had to hit the gym early. Which only made her start her day crankier, then she headed to work, and got caught in a massive traffic jam causing her to make it to work barely on time. Then all her patients we’re ordering her back and forth to do tasks for them. Then to top it off her boss told her ‘she needed to learn to do her job more efficiently and act like she’s grateful for it.’ Like jeez, could she catch a break?

“Hey baby!” her husband said while walking into their main hallway. She didn’t even have the energy to respond and walked towards him and fell in his arms. “Damn baby what’s up with you?!” Joe playfully asked Y/n. “Shut up and hold me” she grumbled into his chest. He chuckled at her words and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked to the kitchen. He sat her down on a island stool and began preparing her a snack.

After a few minutes of Joe shuffling around the kitchen, he came back to his wife and placed what he prepared in front of her. “Thanks” she said lowly and began eating. “So..you gon tell me what’s bothering you?” Joe asked cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was make her upset. She sighed before she began speaking. “It’s just everything has been getting on my nerves today and I just feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed..” she explained. He took notice of the sadness on her face. He hated seeing the most important person in his life upset in any shape or form.

Joe knew that feeling all too well, especially with his busy schedule. “I know babygirl, I know.” he said understandably while stroking her cheek a few times. “But…ya know…you could take some of that frustration out on me..” he said with a smirk coming to his face. She looked up at him and without a word she pulled his shirt and brought him in for a passionate kiss. Their tongue’s both fought for dominance, and Joe let her win, just this once.

She pulled away gasping for air. “Lets..go upstairs.” She took Joe’s hand and led him up to their bedroom. Once they got into their bedroom she pushed him down onto the bed. She crawled on top of him and began slowly undressing him. Joe was growing inpatient but he knew she’d been having a bad day, so he’d let her have her fun…for a little.

Once they were both fully undressed, Y/n moved her body closer and closer to him until she was fully sitting on his face. She then leaned forward and started placing mini kisses on his tip. Joe took some action too and grabbed her hips and started rolling them onto his face. He nibbled at her clit causing her body to jerk and move upwards. He grumbled and kept a tighter grip on her hips. “Lemme eat my pussy in peace” he grumbled with his mouth full. While Joe was devouring her, Y/n moved his cock deeper into her throat and started taking him as far down as she could. His hips jerked upwards causing his tip to hit the back of her throat. She gagged around his cock and removed her mouth.

She then started using both of her hands to get him off. After a few more of his hip thrusts his cum came out altogether and landed on his thighs. She cleaned him up with her tongue and then focused on her own orgasm. Joe started pushing his tongue in and out of her at a fast pace bring her closer to her climax. “Uh yes daddy!” she moaned out. He hummed, causing vibrations to go through her. “I’m gonna-” Y/n got cut off when her body starting shaking in ecstasy. All her stress piled up from the day left her body almost immediately.

She felt Joe continuing to use his tongue to lick up every last bit of her cum. “Mm sensitive!” Y/n squealed out while trying to get off his face. Joe finally let her up and laid her down on the bed beside him. He climbed on top of her and kissed her passionately. The kiss was cut short when she pushed his chest back. “Hey! I thought you said I was in control!” she told him.

“Shhh” he cooed while pressing a finger to her now bruised lips. “Let daddy make you feel good.” He lined himself up with her entrance and began sliding in slowly. He groaned feeling her tightness fit around him perfectly. She sighed out in pleasure and gripped his arms. Once he was all the way in he pulled back out and slammed into her.

She yelled out. “Daddy! Slow down!” she barely managed to get out. He lightly slapped her face. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” He began thrusting out of her at a animalistic pace, with her moans coming out in sync. He looked down to see tears on the verge of falling from her eyes. He then finally stopped moving altogether. “Hey, baby you okay?” he asked softly. “No! Why’d you stop?!” she yelled out. He chuckled and spoke lowly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya” he slammed into her roughly causing her to scream out.

“Your so tight baby! Fit perfectly around daddy’s cock” he said into her ear. After a few more thrusts he felt her squeezing tightly around him, signalling she was close. “You gonna cum for daddy?” “Yes!” she moaned out. He rubbed down between their bodies and rubbed her clit. She started shaking uncontrollably and after a few more thrusts Joe filled her up.

He collapsed on top of her. She laid there for a second and then pushed him off. He fell onto the bed beside her and looked at her confused. She climbed onto him. “Aren’t you tired yet?!” he asked.

“It’s my turn now” she said with a smirk.

[minniethemoocherda]

Can I Lay By Your Side?

Summary: In the aftermath of Sinister's attack, Morph struggles to get to sleep, so Logan keeps them company by watching a movie.

A/N: This fic can be read as a sequel to my other Morpherine fic "Loving You is a Losing game" but also works as a stand alone. Also cannot believe I have written two Morpherine fics in two days??? I am going insane right now!! Can't promise that any more fics about these two will be as consistent! Xxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Morph sat glued to the living room sofa, unable to make themselves move, terrified to go to bed to face the onslaught of nightmares waiting for them.

Mr Sinister's attack had been an ordeal for all the X-men, especially for the two Jeans and Scott who now had to grieve the loss of their son to the future. Morph's problems felt ridiculous in comparison. Sinister hadn't even controlled them again, not if you counted making Jean do it for him. There wasn't really anything for them to be upset about.

Yet every time they closed their eyes, they could feel the tendrils of Sinister's claws inside them. Morph scratched their arms, skin turning to gloop under their fingernails, digging for the mind control chips they swore they could still feel buried there.

"Pick one."

Logan slammed a box down on the coffee table in front of them, startling their edges back to a solid form.

"Huh?" Morph stammered, having not even heard their friend come in.

"We're watching a movie." Logan stated, pointing at the box.

Morph peeked over the edge to see a pile of rom-coms, their favourite genre.

"Unless you'd rather... talk... about it." Logan said, in a gruff imitation of Morph's offer back in the club. And on any other day, Morph probably would've excepted his offer, if it hadn't been Logan himself that had appeared in their nightmare. And there was no way in hell they were going to be talking to Logan about that.

"And miss the chance to finally make you watch Pretty Woman?" Morph replied, knowing that their attempt at a smile did not reach their eyes.

Thankfully Logan didn't comment on it and instead grabbed the VHS, wound it back with the tip of his claw and placed it in the player below the TV.

Morph was expecting Logan to sit in his usual spot at the other end of the sofa, so was therefore caught off guard when the Canadian sat right next to them.

They deliberately tried not to think about that fact as the opening credits started to roll. As it continued they found themselves becoming more engrossed in the film, admiring all of Julia Robert's iconic outfits, that red dress in particular giving them inspiration for whatever gala the x-men were next invited too. They allowed themselves get lost in the romance of a rags to riches tale as like all rom-coms the main character converged ever closer to a happy ending. The guaranteed happy ending, being the reason why the genre was their favourite in the first place.

The film even managed to get a chuckle out of Logan, which Morph counted as a win as they knew that with the revelation of an additional Jean, he had to be going through his own shit.

And when Morph's attention wavered and the edges of their skin started to droop, Logan placed his arm along the back of the sofa, his hand resting on their shoulder, effectively grounding them back to this reality.

Even if it did made it harder for Morph to as much attention to the movie afterwards.

Too soon the film finished and whilst Morph was feeling more solid, they still weren't ready for the concept of going to sleep yet.

Without even having to ask, Logan picked up the remote and rewound the tape back to the beginning, even though Morph knew that Logan wasn't a fan of films, rom-coms especially so. But he made no complaints as Richard Gere once again fell head over heals for the beautiful Julia Roberts.

Once again, the big ballgown scene played out and it was becoming a battle for Morph to keep their eyes open. Too exhausted to talk themselves out of it, hoping to conserve some of their energy into staying awake, Morph rested their head against Logan's shoulder. Expecting Logan to brush them off or turn it into another joke, they were surprised when he actually pulled them closer, his hand now properly gripping their shoulder as though they could physically shield them from their own nightmares.

And it must have worked as the next time Morph opened their eyes, daylight was flickering in through the living room windows. The first thing they noticed as they slowly came to their senses, was the low volume of the TV as it played the movie for what must've have been the tenth time. The next was that their whole body was pressed against Logan's side and that The Wolverine's hand had moved from their shoulder to their waist, hugging them even tighter.

"Sleep alright?" Logan asked, concern etched in the creases of his face.

Morph nodded, not trusting the words I love you to not tumble out of their mouth.

"Good," Logan said, those creases turning into a smile. "'Cus I can smell Jubilee making pancakes."

Of course that was when Morph finally woke up enough to realise that they were cuddling The Fucking Wolverine.

They practically ejected themselves from the sofa, putting as much distance between them and Logan as physically possible.

"Did you say pancakes?" Morph cried, acting as though their internal mental breakdown was actually just an over enthusiasm for food. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

Not waiting to see Logan's reaction, they sprinted down the corridor to the kitchen, not realising until they were long gone that Logan must have stayed awake to protect them all night.

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 4)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: Only a few more chapters to go (I think, but we're both lost on how long this series will be.) Thank you guys for reading and as always, thank you for the love and support!

____________

Chapter 4:

Y/N's POV

It wasn’t him. It was 100% me. I did this to myself. I built a wall so quickly around him because I didn’t want to like the man behind my misery. 

My teammates knew enough about my backstory to think they had an idea of my reason for joining SHIELD: helping the little guy because, at one point, you were the little guy—the manipulated guy—the one who no one saved, so you had to save yourself—and now anyone else who can’t do it for themselves. 

Yet, there were so many other things I kept for myself, and things files couldn’t tell you. No files existed of them, and I’m glad because I didn’t want the pity. 

James Buchanan Barnes was the reason behind my abuse. Not personally, but my abuser was obsessed with his accomplishments under the German and Russian terrorist organizations and wanted to make a female, more skilled, discrete, and sleeker version of the Winter Soldier. 

Who fucking didn’t, right? God, every goddamn evil bastard on this godforsaken shit show of a planet wants to remake something that was a once in a lifetime kind of thing and crack more than a few eggs to get to that point. Selfish asshole…

Being constantly compared to him and then beaten for not hitting the unreachable mark of the man I was ‘of no comparison to’ after years of trying to hit that standard, and then being asked to be on a team with him? A lot of emotions hit me like a train when I got that news. 

Will I amount to being the trained spy and agent I am for Shield with him by my side? Will he make me look like a completely pointless addition to the team? After five years of already working with the Avengers and then learning who the Winter Solider was? Steve’s best friend and probably the only person he could relate to in their journey? All the way to having to work with him… The change-up was instantaneous, where I would have begged for baby steps. 

Then again, when has the world made it easy for me?

So yes. I was an ass and kept him further than arm's length away to stay safe from learning that he was a good guy when I wasn’t ready to like him yet. I had a lot of trauma I never thought I’d have to work through with the infamous man himself, and that irritation and annoyance just continued when he finally matched my energy, and we never strayed from that relationship until… now.

And here he was, genuinely asking what HE did wrong when I was the reason for our enemies’ plot line. 

“Bucky, I don’t think I can talk about this right now,” I breathed out slowly, feeling the tears prick in my eyes.

It had been a minute since I cried and felt this vulnerable, and I couldn’t seem to stop it. I think subconsciously, I didn’t want to stop it, but my mind was begging my body to hold out until he was out of the room. 

“Y/N, if I did something to you, I didn’t realize-” 

“You wouldn’t have known,” I whisper, not trusting my voice to stay steady, but also not wanting to put anymore of the blame on him from here on out. 

He wasn’t a bad guy.

He had proved himself time and time again to be a really good guy. Even when he broke and decided he hated me back, he still had his moments when he put it aside and showed chivalry. I admired him for it even when I ignored the admiration. 

Makes it hard to fully hate a guy who made sure ladies weren’t opening any doors for themselves. Or a man who remembered Morgan’s birthday and bought her an ice cream cake before stealing Steve’s shield to sled down a hill her dad told her not to. Or a man you treat like absolute shit 99% of the time, and he still checks on you when you have nightmares, and he grabs water and an ice pack and helps you even out your breathing before waiting for you to go back to sleep. 

I didn’t ask him for the help, and he never mentioned the handful of times he fell into the routine of soothing me back to sleep. Never brought it up, never made me feel like I owed him, and never hinted at remembering such kindness. 

But now?

“You wouldn’t have known why it started this way to begin with. And you likely won’t,” I sigh, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth before turning around; a lot more put together, even if it was just a mask I had learned to put on most of my life. 

“I don’t understand,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at my disposition. 

“I don’t expect you to, but maybe we should go to sleep and talk about it later. It’s getting late, and you have to go to your ‘job’ tomorrow,” I say with hand quotes. “We have to keep the ruse going.” 

“A few hours of sleep doesn’t affect me,” Bucky shook his head, and I could see him itching to put his hands back on me, but he held back. “Please. I need to know what the hell I did.” 

“Again, Bucky,” I say sternly this time, all emotion I’m struggling to keep at bay shoved down. “You are not at fault, and tomorrow I’ll talk to you, but for now, I need to sleep on it.”

He read my face for lies, and I kept it neutral. I wasn’t going to break here. Now was not the time. I needed space to think about how I was going to approach this after so long of avoiding it and being put on the spot wasn’t going to work for me. 

“Ok,” he said, softer than I think I ever heard him talk. His eyes were soft and sensitive, and I didn’t know how I felt about it…

He turned and walked out of my room, gently shutting the door behind him and turning off the overhead light he had originally flashed on. 

I didn’t instantly head straight to bed. I stared at the doorway in the dark, seeing the faint silhouette of the barrier between us. He was still on the other side, and I could hear his heart rate higher than normal.

This was affecting him more than I thought it would. Why was he so worried about what I thought of him? He didn’t seem bothered by my disinterest in the past. Or at least I didn’t figure he did. 

____________________

When I woke up, Bucky was already gone. His truck, normally in the driveway, was missing, and I knew he had taken off for our mission report. 

Thankful, I took the time to make my coffee, sit on the front porch, and watch the neighborhood take on its morning routine. 

People were on runs with their family dogs, moms were doing their morning walks with strollers, some neighbors were out already tending to their gardens, and everything suburban seemed to be on track. 

Towards the end of my cup, I notice Ms. Bauer coming back from her jog she must have taken earlier than the others. 

“Oh, hello, neighbor!” she shouted when she spotted me, uniformly checking our house like her head was on a swivel if she heard a pen drop in it. 

Still in her jog, she sashayed over to my lawn, and I mumbled, “Here we go,” smiling at her as she followed the sidewalk to our steps. 

“How are you doing today, Bethanne?” I grin standing from my patio chair and going down the steps to meet her at the bottom of the flight. “Is there a run club I didn’t know about? You’re the 10th person I’ve seen getting a head start on their steps for the day.” 

She laughed and waved a hand at me before taking an earbud out, pausing her music on her watch, and placing her hands on her hips as she looked up at me. 

“There is actually a mommy and me walking club on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Depending on the weather, of course, but who knows,” she grinned up at me. “Maybe you can be joining it sooner than you thought.”

“Maybe not as soon as you think,” I laughed, holding my mug tighter with both hands so I wouldn’t strangle her instead and leaning on the banister. “We wanted at least a year in the house by ourselves before we add another set of feet to the chaos,” I scrunch my nose and add, “but I’m excited for the day Beau and I have a mini-version of us running around here.” 

“Speaking of Beau,” she grins, looking to the driveway. “Where is he today? He’s usually home with you most of the time, right?”

“Oh, it was time for him to get back to work. He took off for a few weeks to get moved in and spend time with me before we had to get back to the real world,” I answer as planned. 

“That’s right. I think I remember you guys talking about that at the first block party,” she nodded, watching me carefully for slip-ups. “Can you believe it’s only been two weeks of you guys here? I feel like you two have been a part of the community for at least a year.” 

“You’re sweet,” I gush convincingly and look out to the neighborhood for effect. “You guys have really taken us in as your family, and you don’t know how much I appreciate it. We appreciate it,” I correct and look off in the distance like I’m thinking of my sweet, doting husband when, in reality, I was thinking of the day this mission was over and I could carry on with my normal life. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned this. Beau isn’t one to really talk about it, but his family life wasn’t the best. They’ve practically been strangers since he turned 18.” 

“Oh, is that so?” she inched up, feeding on the new (fake) information. 

I nod. “When we started dating, my family took him in as his own- well, I only had my dad around for most of my life, but they got along really well. He passed three years ago,” I give a tight-lipped look as I look down at my feet in sadness. “They developed a bond, which wasn’t hard considering who my dad was. He was the best, though we might be biased in thinking that. Taught Bucky how to do a lot of things dads are supposed to teach their sons. Well,” I sniffle for added effect. “Anyway, we’re kinda on our own now. No extended family we’re close with, and with my dad’s passing, it’s really just us. So when I say we’re grateful for y’all’s hospitality, I mean it.”

She seemed to buy it, as much as an undercover convict could, and smiled kindly up at me before placing a hand on my arm. 

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re just lucky you two are some of the good ones. You’d be surprised who’s come in and hasn’t made the cut. Lawns in disarray, unfriendly attitudes, and you know the list,” she winks and rolls her shoulders back before stretching in her spot. “Speaking of being lovely neighbors, how would you and Beau feel about a dinner at our house? Reggie and I have been talking about having you over for quite some time now, and I think we can finally host.” Before I could ask, she stopped me and explained. “Kitchen renovation. It was and still is a pain in my ass, but it should be doable for a small dinner.”

“That sounds lovely,” I beam as much as I could act. It was the perfect next step, and the bait had been taken, but a part of me wanted to settle things with Bucky in our personal dispute before we put on our masks for the two main perpetrators. “Let me check with him and see what his schedule will look like now. He’s getting some new orders today, and some things are changing in the company. We’ll know more tonight. But we will for sure make it work.” 

___________

After Bethanne told me some useless neighborhood gossip, she excused herself, and I went back inside to get ready for the day and consider how I would approach Bucky on our issue. 

I knew it was time to be truthful, even if I dreaded it. Bucky had proven time and time again that he wasn’t the enemy, and I needed to deal with my issues. I was tired of wasting energy on hatred and anger, and these last two weeks proved that Bucky wasn’t the one who should have been receiving the blunt force end of my trauma. 

I had until four in the evening to come up with an idea of how I wanted to go about it, but I had stress cleaned instead and couldn’t come up with a non-terrifying way to approach this life-changing conversation.

Finally, I found it best we get dinner in the town over (as not to have any peaking eyes or eavesdropping ears as we dive into my life story I hadn’t indulged to near anyone before), and I would talk to Bucky there. However, plans changed when Bucky came home. 

From my spot in the kitchen, I heard him shout in his domesticated voice across the street, “No, that sounds perfect! We’d love to!” The door opened just as he finished his sentence, and his voice became clearer. 

I moved around the island and slowly walked toward the door to get a view of who he was talking to, and I noticed Bethanne at her mailbox waving to Bucky. 

I furrowed my eyebrows at the obvious commitment he put us in, and after he waved back, he shut the door behind him, looking at me, and dropped the act quickly. 

“What did you just agree to?” I asked, nodding my head behind him. 

He looked me up and down, and I almost forgot I had picked a new, semi-fancier sundress for our “surprise anniversary dinner” (at least the front I was trying to put on for getting out of town without too much suspicion).

(Make whatever color you please or change it in your mind if you want! I'm choosing to pick it as a darker red.)

“You look nice,” he says as his eyes trail back up to my own, and I swear I see him take a gulp. 

“What did you agree to?” I asked again, focused more on what he had decided for us regarding Bethanne. 

His previous shocked face faded away, and he rolled his eyes slightly before throwing his work bag to the side.

“Bethanne invited us to dinner. I said yes because we need to build a relationship with them,” he replied stoically, as if my question was dumb and pointless. 

I just stared at him and let my “personal vendetta” look rest on my face. He studied me and had the decency to shrink ever so slightly. 

“What?”

“What happened to discussing things first?” I said in an eerily calm voice. 

“I didn’t think accepting dinner at a home we’ve been trying to get inside of for the last two weeks is something we’d have to discuss.” And now he straightens up, throwing his empty arms to the side. 

A few seconds later, I yelled, “You dipshit!” in a muffled grunt, keeping my voice down as much as I could handle and balling my fists in anger. 

His eyebrows shoot up and he huffs with his chest puffed out as he marches to me. I see the intent in his eyes, and I start walking away towards the opposite room closest, needing a minute not to lose my shit, and if I have to look into his stupid azure eyes like he wants to read everything passing through my mind, I’ll break.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls, and I shoot him a look over my shoulder as I shift my pace and head down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Y/N, stop being a stubborn ass and-”

“Unless you want a heel thrown at your head, and you’re welcome for being civil about this, I suggest you leave me alone,” I shout behind me, turn sharply to the left, and go to my room. 

“I don’t even know what THIS is! You looked at me like you wanted to kill me when I walked in, and I haven’t even talked to you today besides updates about work,” he said just as I slammed the door in his face. “Oh, real mature. Shut the door like an adolescent. Wait, I forgot. You are one…” He mumbles the last part and I hear him lean on the door.

Instantly, I whip the door open, and he doesn’t have time to predict his next move. He falls flat on his back on the wood floors of my room, only padded by a thin oriental rug I made Tony buy me. 

He’s winded from the fall and clutches his chest as I bend down next to him and say, “I said. Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.” I stare at him for a second, solidifying my threat. I stand to walk out and only give him a glance as I pass the doorway. 

_____________

Bucky’s POV:

I left her the fuck alone. 

I may have been royally pissed (that is a blatant ass understatement), but something about the look in Y/N’s eyes told me not to push unless I wanted to wake up with my head no longer attached to my body. 

I was too scared to leave her room in fear I’d run into her when she wasn’t ready and risk taking the chances of the guillotine earlier, so I sat on her bed and tried to rack my brain to where I slipped up to cause whatever the hell I walked in to…

I knew almost instantly and realized what a stupid, simple mistake it was. Bethanne asking me to dinner set her off, I knew. But her comment about talking with each other before making decisions told me my mistake. 

Something happened I didn’t know of, and I may have just fucked whatever it was up. As for what it is? No goddamn clue. But using context clues and just basic reading of the body language, Y/N had already made a plan, and I threw it out the window, likely.

I heard footsteps before I could think further, and Y/N appeared in the doorway, taking a deep breath. She would have convinced me she was going to be civil if it wasn’t for her history, but I was excited to see which lane she chose. 

“One thing before I bite my tongue,” she says in almost a whisper, like she’s trying to keep her frustrations at bay. “You make me want to shave my head like Britney Spears in 2007 75% of the time. This moment was almost a tipping point for that kind of outcome..” She lets out a long breath like she passed the test of keeping it together. 

Surprisingly a lot more tame than I was expecting. 

“Glad you got that out of your system. Now, please tell me what the hell happened?” I asked, keeping my guard up in case she resorted to her typical insults and fury. 

“Oh, now you want to communicate,” she mocks and walks to the bed, harshly sitting next to me but leaving a copious amount of space between us. 

I let it slide because I know she’s fighting bigger demons, like the urge to insult me, until I personally dig my own grave and say goodbye to my cruel reality. 

“Bethanne was goading us,” she answers, thankfully getting right to the point. “Something about her proposition seemed off, and I wanted to clear some things up with you before we jumped on the offer.”

I nodded my head, seeing that my instantaneous reply wasn’t thought out. That was on me, yes, but she also reacted extremely dramatically, expressing an odd feeling about the interaction instead of hard proof. 

“What did she ask, and what was off about it?” I question, trying to stay mission based because something seemed off still.

“It wasn’t what it was but how she was asking. Something in her tone and the way she was looking at our house and me. Like she was trying to take in detail after detail up close. Checking for cracks in the foundation,” she answers and turns to me just slightly. “She also said her kitchen was under renovation, and something felt off about it.” 

“The vibes about our neighbor getting a kitchen renovation made you knock the wind out of me when you opened your door?” I said before I could think, but I didn’t budge, my furrowed eyebrows aimed at her. 

She matches my glare and turns her body fully to me. 

“It seemed like an excuse,” she answers slowly. 

“To what? Host a dinner? That’s kind of the opposite effect. Who would want to host a dinner when you have kitchen renovations? It means they trust us if they’re willing to let us see a house that’s not perfect like the front they put on.” 

‘That’s what you get from it, but I think they just planted a little seed of their own.” 

“What do you even mean?”

“Kitchen Reno? That’s an excuse to say, ‘Oh, Charlotte, I can’t cook the chicken pot pie I was going to make for you two because our new oven hasn’t been delivered and installed yet. You know? Because we have the kitchen under renovation? I completely forgot,’” She acted in a convincing Bethanne impersonation and then quickly turned back to serious. 

“You got that from a kitchen reno comment?” I deadpanned after a minute. 

“I got that from understanding women masterminds who know how to manipulate a situation. I am that woman, so I think I can read them pretty well,” she says confidently back. 

Touché.

“And what if you’re wrong?” Her bitchface grew at my question. 

“First off, I’m not. Second off, even if I was wrong, we are supposed to consult each other about accepting invitations into the house of our suspect enemies,” she ran a hand through her hair, which I notice now looks styled differently. Did she curl it or have it blown out? And yes, I know what a blowout is. I have women friends and coworkers.

Yeah… I was in the wrong here, and that’s on me. I wasn’t thinking. I also had a long day snooping around for more information about this whole operation, but it isn’t necessarily an excuse… It’s not like  I haven’t worked on a case like this in the past. I mean, minus being fictitiously married to a coworker. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, and she gives me a weird look. “What?”

“I wasn’t expecting an apology,” she says, standing slowly and straightening her dress. 

“I know when to accept I made a mistake,” I shrug and stand as well. 

She studies my face like there's a retort that’s going to follow, but I just stare at her silently, communicating that I’m set on my apology. 

“Ok…” she drags out, watching me as she steps toward the door. “Well, I guess we need to get ready for tonight. Considering we have dinner. With our neighbors. And we need to set up bugs if possible.”

“Guess so,” I nod, crossing my arms. 

She stops suddenly and looks at me with a look of realization. “You’re in my room.” She steps to the side, leaving room for me to leave, and avoids eye contact. 

She’s still acting weird, but I need to change and get my head in the game for tonight, so I walk out with a subtle head nod as I leave.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

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[talonabraxas]

The Caduceus

Hermes, personifying the dual powers of the Secret Wisdom, carries in his right hand a powerful symbol which represents the breathing in and breathing out of the cosmos and unites all the dual aspects of manifested existence. The caduceus of Hermes was said to have been given him by Apollo. It is a wand with two serpents twined round it, surmounted by two wings. The ancient Greeks believed it to exercise influence over the living and the dead, bestow wealth and prosperity, and turn everything it touched into gold. They called it Kerykeion, 'herald's wand' – it was the emblem of heralds and ambassadors, giving them power and inviolability. While the rod represents power, the serpents symbolize wisdom.

The wings of the caduceus symbolize the 'winged radiance' of those who have achieved the dynamic equilibrium of the two lobes of the medulla, the petals of the third-eye chakra, as well as the lightning speed of Hermes as Messenger of the Gods. Like the twining serpents, Hermes is known as the equilibrator, balancing the pairs of opposites, inspiring the alchemist's belief that without him neither Isis nor Osiris could accomplish the Great Work. The caduceus also symbolizes the fall of spirit into matter from the archetypal world to the creative and formative worlds and finally to the material world. Thus it essentially represents the astral light, the means through which Hermes wields his great power of transformation. The astral light is variously described as an "ambient and all-penetrating fluid . . . a ray detached from the (Spiritual) Sun's splendour," – the girdle of Isis that twines around two poles, and the winged dragon of Medea as well as the double serpent of the caduceus. It is the vehicle of life, representing time and eternity: the tempter and the redeemer. The wings of the caduceus signify the spiritual transcendence of time and temptation.

The rod of the caduceus is called a 'laya rod,' a central staff surrounded by the positive and negative energy of the serpents. It is the neutral Sushumna, the channel of the Sun's One Ray. All wands and staffs of power derive from this idea, just as the guiding power of Hermes is reflected in the prayer to the Christos which promises, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil; for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." The magician's wand, the 'baton de commandement' of ancient cave-paintings, and the lightning rod, are all aspects symbolic of a principle of controlled power.

On the western pediment of the Temple of Artemis at Corfu is a gorgon figure flanked by two lions. She stands in a 'pinwheel stance' which conveys movement without locomotion. Around her waist are coiled two serpents, entwined at the front, their heads arching back to face one another at her bodice. She is a guardian warding off evil and protecting the goddess within. As such, this stone figure represents protection through balanced duality. For the Great Serpent in the Garden of Eden and the 'Lord God' are one. Or, as the ancients taught, "Demon est Deus Inversus."

Agathodaemon and Kakodaemon are offshoots from the same tree of being, and evil is a force which is antagonistic but essential to good, giving it vitality and existence. These two entwined serpents, symbolizing the astral light which is not only the vehicle of life but the auxiliary of good and evil, reflect that matrix which ever seeks equilibrium. As long as nature remains 'untamed,' the opposition of the two forces (quicksilver and sulphur) manifests in a destructive mode. Hermes (Mercury) introduces the equilibrating element. The Hebrews called the astral light OD-OB-AOUR or 'Great Agent of Life.' The magnetism directed by the active will represented the right-hand serpent of the caduceus or OD. The left-hand serpent symbolized the passive OB. The golden globe at the summit of the rod was AOUR or 'equilibrating light,' the neutral point. The secret of magnetism could be mastered through ruling the fatality of OB with the intelligent power of OD, thereby gaining the perfect equilibrium of AOUR.

The solar and lunar spirals describe forces unfolding outward and simultaneously turning inward. They represent the expanding and contracting forces of nature, the alternating yin and yang, the two halves of the world egg as well as of the brain. A continuous oscillation between the two serpents accompanies the involution and evolution of spirit. The involution of spirit into matter is a progressive downward cycling, the 'sliding down of Aeons' of the Alexandrian Gnostics. The 'Downfall of Pleroma' (Gods and Devas) is allegorized as 'the desire to learn and acquire knowledge.' The seven 'rectors' break through the 'seven circles of fire.' These are the seven Devas who were born to act in space and time, to break through the seven circles of the super-spiritual planes into the phenomenal world. Allegorically, they rebelled against God.

In the nineteenth century 'primitive matter' was thought to have been formed by the act of a 'generative force' throwing off atoms endowed with varying forms of energy. It was believed by some that lowering temperatures and electricity within the 'original protyle' conferred upon newly-born elements their particular atomicity. Sir William Crookes, an intuitive chemist, pointed out that double spirals describe the process by which the elements originate. Such a figure would comprise three simultaneous oscillating motions, each at right angles to the other. Projecting this figure in space, curves describe loci where various chemical elements form within one cycle of oscillation. In the next cycle, conditions of temperature and time would have changed and the atomic groupings would be lineal descendants of the first group; and so the process would continue. Projected in space, the curve shows a central neutral line relating to electrical and chemical properties, with a positive spiral on the north, a negative on the south. This strongly echoes the metaphysics embodied in the caduceus. Though limited to material genesis, scientists have suggested that eventually matter would be reabsorbed into 'the point neutral as to electricity' or the 'zero point' analogous to the neutral globe at the summit of the caduceus rod – what The Secret Doctrine terms the "Inter-etheric point" upon which the universe revolves, a laya point, "which hiding place can be traced in the world of matter." Rotating neutral centers fixed by Fohat carry the full load of accumulated atoms from the start, and remain balanced.

The Divine Pyrnander teaches that "the Gods distinguished the Nature full of Seeds. And when all things were interminated and unmade up, the light things were divided on high and the heavy things were founded upon the moist Sand." When things were formed, they were sustained by Spirit and "Heaven was seen in Seven Circles . . . The Gods were seen in their Ideas of the Stars . . . and the Sphere was lined with air, carried about in a circular motion by the Spirit of God." Similarly, in modern astronomy, scientists speak of whirling gases made up of light hydrogen atoms evolving into heavier elements by 'spontaneous synthesis.' This cosmo-chemical process is described as unfolding in the same oscillating, caduceus-like pattern. Hydrogen atoms, the first of the series, are able to bind and to release a second electron, and in the absorption and emission of the necessary small amount of energy, all the wavelengths of the hydrogen spectrum are evolved. Since all further color distinctions are due to similar atomic and electro-magnetic variants, it would seem to follow that the potential for subsequent evolution exists at the earliest point. The unfolding spectrum can be related to the serpentine oscillation producing the original elements. In the language of the ancients, the Seven Devas break through spiritual planes into the phenomenal realms. Spirit involves into matter, its manifested spectrums circling down in series through the astral matrix.

These dual forces conjoin at the center of the seven-fold nature of man. The full force of the conjunction of the lunar and the solar serpents is uniquely experienced in human nature, and the perfected man who has balanced these universal forces is, like Hermes, a God of the Crossroads and a Mediator between Two Worlds. At the point of intersection between the macrocosm and the microcosm stands man. This is 'the cave of the heart,' the battleground of the dual forces of life. The vertical axis is the road of descending and ascending power. The horizontal axis is the manifestation of this in the world. Strong interaction of the contrasting forces along the two axes produces a spiralling motion that is the basis for identifying the aspiring disciple with the uncoiling serpent, and the perfected men of all ages as Nagas or Dragons of Wisdom.

Through his sacrifice the Serpent-Saviour initiates a new winding on the spiral of the next dimension, marking the beginning of a New Age. He is like The Redeemer on the cross. Through him man pulls himself up at the moment of death into the lunar foundations of the next world. The Adept who touches the earth like the serpent's tail sacrifices his life to lift up the whole in his journey back to his Spiritual Seat. He is the Spiralled Serpent of the Tree of Life.

The trunk of the Asvatta tree grows from heaven and descends at every Beginning from the two dark wings of the Swan of Life. The two Serpents, the ever-living and its illusion (spirit and matter) whose two heads grow from the one head between the wings, descend along the trunk, interlacing in close embrace. The two tails join on earth (the manifested universe) into one, and this is the great illusion.

Ophios and Ophiomorphos, Apollo and Python, Osiris and Typhon, Christos and the Serpent, are all convertible terms, all Logoi. "One is unintelligible without the other." They are spiritual saviours and physical regenerators; the former ensure immortality for the Divine Spirit and the latter give it through regeneration of the seed. The serpent or saviour has to die because he reveals the secret of the Immortal Ego.

Human consciousness is related to the balancing and flow of subtle energy currents. The Sakti of Siva actively revolves around the Siva lingham, the neutral rod of the caduceus. The lotus centers in the body are pierced by the Sakti energy passing into progressively finer vibrations. The Buddha termed this 'the untying of all the knots in the inverse order.' Man approaches the Divine through spiral stages of initiation. Apollonius of Tyana spoke of the Second Hour when "by the duad, the zodiacal fish chant the praises of God; the fiery serpents entwine about the caduceus and the thunder becomes harmonious." This is one of twelve zodiacal steps of successive initiation, another being to study the balanced forces in nature and learn how harmony results from the analogy of contraries, "to know the Great Magical Agent and two-fold polarization of universal light."

The Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus bears the following inscription "The power is vigorous if it be changed into earth . . . Ascend with the greatest sagacity from earth to heaven, and then again descend to earth, and unite together the power of things superior with things inferior." Such is the practice of theurgy which involves communication with, and bringing down to earth, planetary spirits and angels. Total purity of mind, heart and body is needed to perform this sublime magic. In the school of Iamblichus, priests who evoked gods during the Mysteries were Hierophants. Like the Brahman Grihasta, the Theurgist liberated his own astral body, which then took on the form of the God and served as a medium through which the "special current preserving ideas and knowledge of that God could be reached and manifested." Through theurgy, the initiated disciple ascends the spiral to communicate with the Augoeides rendered visible through the medium of his astral body.

The magic of theurgy and the art of healing are alike based upon the principle of establishing an equilibrium of forces. Because human nature denotes the polarity of spirit and matter, a struggle between the two manifests. Since the centripetal and centrifugal forces are interdependent, if the action of one is obstructed, the action of the other will immediately become self-destructive. There must be a restoration of equilibrium so that the currents of life can perform their proper function in the body. The Navajo medicine man carefully delineates a design in colored sand which precisely combines the correct elements of color, symbol, direction and balance. In the center of this mandala the patient will remain seated throughout the lengthy chanting which, together with the sand-painting, will evoke the contrasting forces in nature necessary to re-establish the proper equilibrium in the patient.

The knowledge needed to heal oneself is the same as that needed to ascend the spiral of initiation into the still center of the Higher Self. The great shadow of the astral light ever deludes man and the shadow-serpent entwined around him obscures his vision. Let man mark that serpent well and understand its essential force while turning his mind ever upward toward the Spiritual Sun. The ardent disciple strives to realize Siva through the balanced forces of his whole nature, thus embodying every aspect of the golden caduceus. This is the natural potential of man. The perfect balance achieved, the soul soars upward on radiant wings.

Tree of Life as the Caduceus of Mercury. Each number corresponds to a planet/god e.g. 8 is Mercury, 7 is Venus etc.

The serpents represent the Ida and Pingala nadis, while the shaft/wand is Sushumna.

Image from “The Book of Thoth” by Aleister Crowley (1944).

[temis-de-leon]

Day 23 - Public kiss

Characters: Satan x male!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: a bit of insecurity, creepy demons being creepy, possessive behaviour, recently established relationship

.

MC’s cheeks hurt from all the smiling and, not for the first time that night, he wished he could go back to being a useless human. Now that the important people trusted him more and more as a human ambassador, the cute little lamb he used to be became a ram with too much on his plate and little to no energy to do any of it.

The brothers said he’d eventually get used to it, to keep going beyond his limits and force himself to go even further, laughing at humourless jokes and letting creepy elders grab his arm for flirting purposes. They would bare his teeth and puff their chests, make themselves look bigger as if they were trying to intimidate MC. Or maybe impress him…? It was a blurry line that he wasn’t brave enough to cross.

Not like he was interested anyways.

It was only a week ago when Diavolo gifted him a tailored suit for the event, something that it would only belong to him and would describe him with an accuracy that no other garment would ever possess. Asmo and Levi worked on the whole process, only including MC for the design, and Barbatos supervised the whole thing.

To his surprise, however, it was Satan the one who begged to be the first one to see him wearing it. Of course, MC’s gigantic crush on the demon made it difficult to say no and, upon seeing MC, Satan’s gigantic crush on him made it impossible to not ask him to be his date.

So there they were, holding each other’s hands and dancing whenever they had the chance, talking to ministers, nobles and officials in the midst of all and barely having time to just coexist in peace.

The palace was full of guests, servers and journalists and at some point MC could’ve sworn he saw a TV crew waiting for something worth recording in the side-lines. Still, none of them seemed to care about Satan’s fingers tangled with his or half of the length of his tail carefully curled around MC’s ankles.

Whether the gesture was out of worry for the crowded space or not, MC didn’t know, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

Would it kill for the reporter to enjoy it too? Sure, the new human ambassador dating one of the Avatars wasn’t the most interesting sight to witness during a formal party like the one they were in, but there were tabloids in the Devildom, right? He’d seen the magazines before, gossiping about the brothers, so why wasn’t their potential relationship as interesting?

MC knew the opinion he cared the most was Satan’s, but why did he care so much about everyone else’s? Did they see MC as an ephemeral partner that would go back to a normal friendship in no time? A fling that would last only the duration of the event?

The thought set his heart on fire. Closing his eyes and breathing slowly to control himself, MC tightened his grip on Satan’s hand and turned in his direction, only able to watch as the blond talked to someone MC didn’t know. They were rich and important, that for sure, and when they saw him including himself in the conversation, they stopped talking and wasted no time in holding MC’s free hand to kiss his knuckles. Satan tensed next to him, but stayed quiet.

“You must be the exceptional MC!” they exclaimed, not letting him go “I’ve heard wonders about you”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes, no doubt”

The unknown demon smiled in an expression that creeped MC out, their nasal voice clinging to his ears as they sang praises. Next to him, Satan sighed, crossing his arms without letting MC’s hand go and consequently trapping them together. Not that MC minded.

“You’re truly cherished amongst us humble demons” they were saying, adding a curtsy to his words. “I am very happy to finally meet you”

“Likewise”

He was being insincere, noticing a dark second meaning behind their adulation that he couldn’t identify. Thankfully, Satan started talking again. His voice carried venom and a warning, both for MC and his acquaintance.

“Maybe humble is not the most accurate description for you”

They gasped before laughing loudly, consequently catching everyone else’s attention, but MC could see that deep behind his glee at the banter, the demon felt offended.

“Have I ever been selfish, my lord? Have I not granted you gifts and wishes?”

First row tickets, limited books, designer clothes. The words were left unsaid, but they were still there.

“Perhaps you did, yes” answered Satan in complete calm, ignoring the jab with elegance “But I much rather spend time with my boyfriend right now instead of talking. You understand, don’t you?”

His voice got louder and louder as he talked and MC understood that this would be the most public announcement he would ever get. At first he smiled with joy, believing that Satan also wanted everyone to know about their reciprocated love, but then he saw the disappointment in many demons’ faces, as well as witches’. It wasn’t just to boast their newborn relationship, then. Satan wanted people to know and to stay back.

His heart violently accelerated his rhythm, making him feel jittery.

“Of course. We’ll talk in another moment” the demon finally said before briefly bowing and leaving with dignified steps.

Keeping his composure, but unable to hide his playful smile, Satan closed the distance between them and gave MC a quick kiss. There was only a second of dense silence before the rest of the party went back to their own devices. As if it never happened.

“Should we go get some drinks?”

"Kiss me again and I'll think about it" MC said in a breath, making his boyfriend laugh in delight.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @craftysclown @mehkers

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Divertissement | I

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fem!oc

Summary: Three Years after Tabitha Carmichael abandons Frankenmuth and her childhood friends—one of which being her ex-boyfriend—she returns in hopes of mending burnt bridges.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit sexual situations (later chapters), explicit language, mentions of underage drinking/drug use, mentions of child abandonment

Words: 6.1k

***This is fiction (obviously) if you don’t like it, feel free to block and breeze by this.

There’s no way to describe the overwhelming, rapturous juncture at which that scream, that riff, and the symphony completed by that bassline intertwining with that thundering roll of drums, takes place. 

“Capturing lightning in a bottle” does so little justice in painting the picture with enough fervorous electricity—one would have to capture an exploding star to understand the atmospheric shift that takes place when they perform…

“Running a room” is what our teachers called it. 

The bursts of energy, the parade of laughter to follow, the constant reaping of unadulterated attention—minute glimpses of the future that were wildly entertaining to every kid in the class with them. 

I never got to witness their in-class shenanigans in elementary school being that I was one grade ahead of them. 

Instead, I got front row seats to the show in my free time whenever my sister-in-law decided to encourage me to make friends.

We had lived in Frankenmuth for one year, my brother and I feeling a bit out of our element after leaving Beaufort, South Carolina, and although his new wife’s family were as helpful as they could be, and everyone in town seemed to be kind, I had yet to find interest in anyone outside of our little family. 

I suppose, looking back, I was afraid of someone getting bored of me and putting me back on the shelf when they were done playing—my mother had certainly shown me that’s how the world worked—so when Lee got married to Sierra, got custody of me, and moved us closer to her family in Michigan, it was difficult for me to grow attached to anyone new. 

Until a birthday party invitation found its way into our mailbox one afternoon. 

Whoever Josh and Jake were, they were turning eight, and their mother had written a note asking Sierra to bring me by because she thought that me and her kids would get along. 

Never had I been stricken so sharply by unadulterated joy, becoming enthralled with them from the moment we were introduced and realized that Josh would dramatically tag along with my imagination, just as I’d do with his, and Jake would gladly rough-house and chase me through the yard, either kicking a ball around or outright racing one another. 

Then came the discovery of their love for music and making as much noise as they could. 

Rural Michigan treated them well in its free space to be as loud as one could want, their family encouraging their bouts of creativity and enthusiasm. 

The longer the day went on, the shinier the stars in my eyes became, and by the time night fell and Sierra was hauling me away, the amber in my eyes had turned to pure glitter. 

That shine only grew to be more blinding as our years of wild progressed...

“Josh, I have to go!” I insist despite my lack of attempt to actually get out of the car. “Practice already ran late,” It’s added in a plea, scrunching my neck to my chin with a giggle just as his lips go to graze the skin there. 

“Fifteen more seconds.” He retorts, his lips pressing to mine. 

“Josh—”

“Twelve more.” He cuts me short, kissing my nose, my cheek, my chin, my shoulder, my hand…

Grasping his face in my hands, long tendrils that frame his face threading in my fingers, I look at him wide-eyed, hoping to get my point across, “Josh, Lee is probably waiting with a gun. I gotta go.” 

“Six more,” He ignores me, and I let him, lips meeting once again to bid a final, sloppy, hormone-fueled goodnight. 

Once our six seconds are up, I’m grabbing my gym bag, hopping from the car and almost shutting the door before he’s rolling the window down and calling out, “No ‘goodnight’ kiss?!” 

Stopping in the headlights of his car, I drop my bag in the driveway and walk to his window, only he opens his door. 

“You’re so stupid.” I roll my eyes, but still lean down and kiss him one last time for the night, his soft hands holding my face, kissing my cheek and my temple, muttering, “I love you,” before chastely pecking my lips. 

“I love you.” I reply to him. “Let me know when you make it home.” I add, standing up, turning away. 

I’m not quick enough, his hand swatting at my ass, making me shriek out a laugh, holding my middle fingers up to him. 

“I would if your brother wasn’t home!” He shouts to me as I pick up my bag. 

I want to howl out a cackle because we both know that’s never stopped him from sneaking in.

Blowing him a kiss before I step onto the porch, I unlock the door and make my way inside. 

Immediately, I’m freeing the light brown locks of hair from the ponytail it’s held in tightly, tossing the hair tie onto the counter and massaging my aching roots. 

Sierra’s already made dinner, what’s left for me is neatly covered in tinfoil, the only sound in the kitchen is the portable heater by the table, my brother not waiting there like I assumed he would be. 

It’s when I step to the living room that I see him sitting in peace and silence—reading. 

“How was practice?” Lee questions, clearing his throat when he hears me. 

“It was good.” I shrug, placing my bag onto the loveseat before stepping back into the kitchen to grab something to drink. 

“How’s Kiszka?” My brother inquires, next, still not looking at me. 

“Which one, Lee? There’s two I frequently hangout with.” I sarcastically retort, raising my brows before shutting the fridge and opening the orange fanta in my hand. 

“The one groping you in my driveway.” 

“Ah, the one I’ve been dating for almost four years?” I remind him, taking a swig of my soda. 

My brother loved the boys because they reminded him of himself, sharing the same love for music and the arts in general…he appreciated the fact they were good kids and were kind to me…that is until I started dating Josh in ninth grade. 

Then it wasn’t such a good thing that my boyfriend reminded my brother of himself because he was a hellion in high school, just adding Jake to that equation only doubled the opportunities for me to get into shit I had no business being in. 

The thought of my best friend and my boyfriend being equally sneaky and always up to something worried Lee because he didn’t want me to get wrapped up in whatever stupidity the two brothers inevitably had planned. 

The irony, however, was that I was just as vocal about what mindless antics we should get up to, to entertain ourselves—but I’ll save those gory details for later. 

He doesn’t answer me, crystal green eyes framed by dark blonde brows and lashes in thought. 

“Speaking of Kiszkas…” I start once more, my words earning a sigh from my brother as he looks up at me again and waits for me to speak. “…They have a show this weekend at White’s Bar, and I was hoping we could go.” 

“You want me to take my seventeen year old sister to a bar?” He laughs, closing his book. 

“We’ve been going to see their shows in bars since I was fourteen.” I point out, to which he quips back, “Yeah, a lot’s changed in the last three years—down to how much time you’ve been spending with him.”

“He’s my boyfriend, Lee, that’s kinda how that works.” I say the same thing I always say when the topic of how much time I’ve spent with Josh comes up. 

Usually it starts with: 

“I just want you to stay home tonight.”

Or: 

“Me and Sierra are worried about you.” 

But it all boils down to one common denominator, which is the ‘ole faithful:

“I’m well aware of that, T.J., but I don’t think it’s healthy to be attached at the hip the way you two  are.” He carefully chooses his words, his tone calm and genuinely concerned. 

Which makes it even more irritating. 

“Well, this time next year I will be fifteen hundred miles away, buried in school work and collegiate cheerleading bullshit—”

“—Hey!” He pipes from my choice words while I continue, “To keep my scholarship, and then I will have no time to spend with Josh or anyone else for that matter. And then you can kick back and rub your feet together knowing your sister is miserable.” 

“T.J.” Lee says as I turn on my heel and head toward my room. “Tabitha!” 

Ignoring him, I walk down the hallway only to be halted by Sierra opening their bedroom door, onyx hair mangled from sleep as she squints her gray eyes at me, trying to focus through her drowsy haze. 

“What’s going on?” She asks. 

“Your husband.” I state, shutting my bedroom door behind me. 

Looking back on things, now, it’s easier to see where Lee was trying to help me out some. 

Perhaps he could see from his outside perspective that things would inevitably die out between Josh and I. 

That I’d go off to college, Josh would graduate a year later and go to college closer to home while waiting for his brother and Danny to finish up with school, too, and then they’d all be off to the races—leaving me in their dust—and he was trying to get me to slowly wean off the constant overloads of happy hormones and the overwhelming comfort of never having to be without Josh for periods longer than a day. 

It was like trying to convince someone to responsibly wean off heavy alcohol consumption for the sake of not risking falling dead from the sudden withdrawal, whereas they’re only focused on drinking as much as they can before they’ll have to suddenly get sober. 

I wish I would have taken heed to his warning, then. 

Because I did graduate, I did go off to Sam Houston State University, and things between Josh and I did change so terribly fast once we were no longer “attached at the hip.” 

“I just have a lot of things to think about, Tabby.” He says it like he’s confessing something to me, his words leaving a solemn echo where he’s sitting with me on the rinky, floral printed couch against the wall of their garage—the same couch we used to couldn’t keep our hands off one another on. 

Now we sit feet apart, on opposite ends, refusing to be in the other’s space because we don’t know how to occupy it anymore. 

We’ll make it work. I promise, is what he had told me, paired with that dopey, genuine grin that caused the corners of his brown eyes to crinkle, being sealed off with a sweet kiss before I got in the car, and he disappeared in the rear view mirror.

It had put all my anxieties about our relationship to rest. 

He had eased my mind and when I thought I was going to lose him, he proved to me that I wasn’t. 

So how the fuck are we here, now? 

Anytime he attempts to put it into words, it’s a failure, growing all the more frustrated with himself and with my impatience until I’m sneering out, “So you can’t even tell me why you don’t want me anymore?”

As it’s been in the past when we’ve had arguments, he doesn’t take a shred of shit from me, immediately snapping back, “That’s not what I’m trying to say, if you’ll just listen to me—”

“--I did listen to you when you told me that me going off wouldn’t affect our relationship. And now I’m home and you’re telling me you have ‘things to think about’!” 

“Because I do!” He raises his voice and I bite my tongue, not used to him shouting. 

Standing to my feet to put more distance between us, I step away from the couch and keep my back to him, rubbing my forehead with my finger tips. 

I’m not entirely sure whose tears hit the concrete under our feet first, but mine are smeared on the back of my hand before too long.

Glancing back, I see that he’s got his face in his hands, a sight not unfamiliar with years of bickering with his brother at times over what lyrics sound better, what riff would work the best, how to finish a song out or how to open it…their mother would always come and break it up, but no one has yet to step foot in here with us. 

I’ve never witnessed him so upset bickering with me, usually whatever argument ending after the anticipation of making up outweighed the issue at hand. 

Long gone are the simple days of him deliberately being a menace to any shared teachers in school that I had before him that gave me a hard time, and me encouraging his random spurs of creativity to be funneled into a dramatic, lustrous film that always ended in some sort of explosion that his brother was far too eager to partake in.

We aren’t dumbly infatuated with one another, anymore. No longer blinded by the exultation of first love and the unbridled elation that accompanied it. 

Now we’re young adults who are being forced to evaluate if we legitimately have a leg to stand on together. The times we’ve both put off planning our future together and boiling it down to, “We’ll have plenty of time to figure it out,” are glaring at us both and collapsing in a fit of mockery. 

A new thought creeps into my mind, one that I spent my time away fighting off and ignoring to the best of my ability, but I can’t anymore because of the situation at hand. 

“Did you cheat on me?” I sniffle it out, accusing him more so than asking curiously. 

This gets his attention, dark brows furrowing harshly as his unruly-curl-framed face twists from my words. 

“What?” He’s offended, his confusion turning to anger that I would ever even assume he would do that. 

“Did you cheat on me?” It’s more clear pushing past my lips once more, my own brows rising as I brush the thick, light brown hair from my face—some strands harder than others to pry free from the tear stains on my skin. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tabitha.”

I don’t buy it, too bothered by the feeling in my gut that something isn’t quite right—that he isn’t telling me the truth, that it isn’t as simple as him just needing to think over some things. 

“You can tell me the truth if you did since we’re breaking up anyway.”

Josh licks his lips in thought, teary eyes wandering along the ceiling for a moment before stating,“I thought about it…but I couldn’t do it.” 

It’s a relief to hear, my own harbored guilt finding a small sliver of solace as I exhale and step to him, sitting beside him on the couch, grabbing his hand. 

“Okay. Me too. But that’s normal—I think—because we were so far apart for so long.” Quickly, my fingertips swipe at my lower lash line, brimming with yet another dot of saltwater. “And that’s fixable, you know? I can put a pause on the next school year, or—”

“—Tabby, that’s not—”

“—Or I can drop it altogether if you’d rather me be here—”

“—Tabitha, I’m not—”

“—Or—you just graduated—you can start in the fall and get your…” I trail off, forcing myself to shut up because the look on his face is so pained, I’m afraid another word will chase him away completely. 

“…Me move to Texas?” He hoarses out, a humorless smile tugging at his lips briefly before once more falling sternly in a helpless dawning of realization. “And do what, Tabby? My band is here, my family is here.”

“But I’m not.” 

The way I say it sounds pathetic, obliviously skirting around the very clear reality that he’s trying his damndest to gently tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. 

Brown eyes sparkle with more of his tears as it settles around us: he’s okay with me not being here.

The familiar feeling comes seeping back in, the dread of abandonment trudging into my mind, the same panic beginning to settle in me that first rooted itself in my psyche when mom called Lee and pleaded with him to leave Clemson and get me because she “just can’t do this anymore.” 

“Did I do something?” 

“You’ve done everything, Tabby…that’s why I don’t…” He trails off, ridding more moisture from his face with his fingers. “…That’s why I don’t understand it.” It’s mumbled. 

“Understand what?”

“It’s not you. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else, it’s just…” He’s unable to speak without his hands, turning to face me on the couch as he takes in a labored breath. “…The love I have for you is so interminable that it will never not exist.” He assures me. “But the way I express that love to you, and the desire for how I want to express that love to you, is not the same as it was…and I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way again, Tabby. And I would rather do this now, than keep going like nothing is changing, and end up in my forties with you and maybe some  kids, but be miserable, because I didn’t have the balls to be honest with myself, and with you, sooner and just explore all the ‘what if’s.” 

Apparently the struggle of perplexity is still evident on my face because he nervously shakes his legs and rubs his forehead. 

“When you’ve thought about doing something with someone else while you were away…why?” He asks me, going back to my confession of also being tempted to fall to someone else’s touch in his absence. 

“Josh, it doesn’t ever mean anything because it’s usually when I’m drunk, and I’d never actually—”

“—Tabby.” He says tenderly, the point of his question not being to guilt me or berate me. 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I chew on the inside of my cheek briefly before honestly admitting, “It’s always been random guys who remind me of you in some way.” 

He nods, taking in another breath, saying, “Well…when I’ve thought about it, it’s been people I haven’t necessarily been attracted to in that way before.” 

Any confusion is now clear while he deliberately dances around an explicit explanation—more than likely because he doesn’t quite have one set in stone just yet. 

Only feelings he’d like to explore the possibilities of before he wastes anymore of my time. 

No words of mine can quite follow his, a daunting quiet laying over us both as I start to mentally pack away each domesticated dream involving him.

What season we would get married in, possible names for our kids, what new state or town we would settle down in eventually and any small fragments of daydreams with him in between.

I look at him, though he doesn’t even pay attention, caught up in his own thoughts.

Slowly, I begin to memorize everything I can about his sweet face, balling my fist to avoid reaching out to touch him because I feel that I have no right to, anymore.

How are we supposed to be friends? How am I supposed to forget our time together never happened?

I don’t know what to say to him, and I think he’s said everything he already needed to say to me.

For the first time ever in a moment alone with one another, there’s no laughter, no rambling, no joy.

We just sit together.

How could I have blamed him for simply falling out of love with me for reasons he was blameless for? I couldn’t have hated him even if I tried—even if he had cheated, I wouldn’t have hated him, it was an impossible feat to even be angry at him for too long. 

No, it wasn’t anger that consumed me in the weeks to follow. 

It was sorrow, chased by utter panic, that turned me into a walking trainwreck that couldn’t make a wise decision to save my own sanity.

Pop music blares through the house as I clumsily shuffle through the crowd, one hand holding tightly to Beth’s, while the other strategically grips the red solo cup, filled to the brim with cold beer, carefully trying not to spill any of its contents on me. 

I’ve had enough to find minor things hilarious, and not be able to keep some form of physical touch designated to myself at all times. 

Clumsily sifting through the living room, Beth and I snake toward the doors that lead to the deck. He’s lingering by them against the wall out of people's way, talking to Luke in a cloud of smoke in the house despite being two feet from outdoors. 

“Here.” I hold the cup out to Spencer, blue eyes glinting in the light as he grins widely at me, and pats my ass before tugging me closer.  

Spencer—your typical cocky, douchebag jock—graduated with me, and had been after me since Freshman year, spending our entire four years of high school not even trying to conceal the fact he wanted nothing more than to run my boyfriend over and take his place. 

Anytime he’d harass me to go out with him, he’d throw out bullshit about us making “better sense” together than Josh and I. 

I used him once I was single to try to heal my wounded ego—wanting nothing more than to feel desired again—which wasn’t something I was proud to do. 

I was lonely and needed people, so I had Beth—the one friend I didn’t lose in the breakup—and Spencer…who I could close my eyes and imagine was Josh when he kept his mouth shut, if I tried hard enough.  

My eyes trace through the scattered groups in the house, subconsciously in search of familiar faces that I’ll welcome, as Spencer and Luke indulge in shallow conversation consisting of what truck has better longevity. 

And my attention is only held somewhat when Spencer’s lips press to my cheek randomly, his grip on me tightening. 

It’s when Beth nudges my arm that I realize why he’s marking his territory, Sara and I locking eyes before I see Jake abruptly stop speaking to her upon witnessing me wrapped around Spencer.

I mistook the bitterness in his eyes as being on behalf of his brother who I hadn’t seen in over a month. 

“Can you not?” I shrug him off of me, feeling nervous under Jake’s microscope, surely he’s here to take notes and report back to his brother. 

“Oh, c’mon, just ‘cause your ex-boyfriend’s here—”

“—Wrong twin, Spence.” I interrupt him in a slight slur. 

“They’re both…” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, my glare silencing him before he can put his foot any further into his mouth. “I wouldn’t care, Tabitha. Fuck ‘em.” 

Brown eyes pull from me as soon as I meet them with my own once again, he and Sara moving into the kitchen—no doubt for drinks of their own, and I find myself recoiling from my distraction to follow after them. 

“Baby, really?” Spencer grabs my hand as Beth steps aside to let me move past her. 

I’ll be back in a second. I’m just saying, ‘Hi’.” I insist, kissing his cheek before getting free. 

He’s now harbored Alex in conversation, as well, the two boys making small talk as Sara passes Jake a bottle. 

I linger and pretend to look busy until they’ve fixed their drinks and turn to exit. 

“Hey, Jake.” I say quietly, staring at him without a lick of shame or guilt, feeling none at the moment due to my inebriation. 

“You guys go ahead.” Jake says to them, to which they shrug and listen, leaving us to ourselves momentarily. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, only looking at me as if trying to figure me out. 

“Hey, Tabby.” He finally answers me. 

If it comes off callous or dismissive it doesn’t register in my brain as I continue, “How’s Josh?” 

It’s now that those same deep umber eyes shift in the direction that I approached from, before sweeping over me once more. 

His thoughts are written plainly on his face, not holding the quite the dramatics that Josh’s expressions tend to in the wake of confusion, but the way his eyes briefly blink quickly, crinkling at the corners for a split second, and the movement of his jaw tensing, spells everything out before he even asks, “Did your new boyfriend permit you to ask that?”  

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I retort, watching him take a gulp of his drink, scoffing as he hears the words leave my mouth. “He’s not.” 

“Coulda fooled me.” He mutters, stepping out of the kitchen with me in sync with his steps as I go after him. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” I remind him before he’s grabbing my hand to keep me from tripping when the floor dips to a single descending step that marks the entrance of the “formal” living area littered with drunk teenagers and people in their early twenties. 

I pretend not to notice the warmth of his palm against my own, the spread of small, pricking tingles up my skin that radiate from it, and when he pulls away I nearly chase after his touch. 

“He’s okay…I think he’s beating himself up pretty badly worrying over you, though.” He explains. “Which I told him he doesn’t need to, now that you’re getting your groove back with Spencer fucking Benak.” 

“My groove was taken out back and shot in the head.” I flatly inform him, seeing the corners of his mouth twitch with the threat of a smile. “Spencer’s just…fun.” I argue. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

I catch him staring at me as we come to a stand still, waiting for two strangers to get out of our way to let us get through the room. 

“Does Spencer know that?” He presses almost smugly, as if knowing the answer already.

Gently taking his cup and getting a sip of the mixture of Malibu and Sunny D, I hand it back and offer no confirmation nor denial of his inquiry. 

He tsks at me sarcastically, shaking his head as he states, “Tabby Jane Carmichael, you cruel, evil woman.” 

“On the bright side, it will probably humble him a little.” I honestly confess the eventual plan to part ways with him, continuing toward the front door as he now follows after me, raising his brows sucking his teeth. “What?” I ask, next. 

“Nothing…” He shakes his head, stuttering a chuckle before I’m halting us once again, glaring at him. “It’s just…a little mean…” 

“You’re lecturing me about being mean?” I gawk in disbelief. 

“No, no, I can be mischievous. What you’re doing is just downright mean.” 

“You do recall all the awful things he’s said about Josh just because I was with him instead, and he wanted me?” 

“I’m well aware, which is why I don’t understand how you can even stand to entertain him, now?” There’s no way for me to meander around it, he’s cornered me with his interrogation—a new smear of guilt blooming. 

It sobers me to realize how pathetic I must look, how petty and selfish of me to run to someone, who’s spoken so baselessly ill of my first love, the moment I got broken up with. 

I hadn’t intentionally sought him out. 

His was just the first message I received after it got out that I was single. 

I tell Jake the truth, probably stoking the frustration I’m sure he already feels with the whole situation, “Because he wants me and Josh doesn’t.” 

Pity. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t comfort me to see it on his face, his features softening before he says, “I’m sure there’s plenty of good guys that want you, Tabby.” 

“You reckon?” I pull a word from Lee’s vocabulary, unconvinced, just as Jake glances around. 

“Like, Carter.” He suggests, nodding toward the astutely tall ginger lingering in the corner with a shit eating grin on his face, more than likely in his own world due to the smoke from his blunt pouring from his mouth. 

“He’s dating Lauren.” I remind him, pointing to the brunette sitting a few feet away on one of the couches. 

“…Oh…okay…well…” Looking around some more, he presses his lips together at a loss of any more suggestions. “Yeah…the pickings are running a little slim.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck. 

I stare at the motion, eyes nearly going blurry I look so long, and he waits patiently for me to catch myself before he asks, “You okay?” 

Shaking my head as my face heats up with embarrassment, I grab at his cup again, finishing off his drink. 

“I’ll get us some more.” I offer, stepping back to the kitchen when I see Spencer looking around, huffing out relief when he sees me. 

“There you are. I’m getting ready to go.” He informs me in a fashion that seems as though he expects me to go with him, now. 

“Let Beth drive.” I tell him, only for him to roll his eyes. 

“I’m fine, Tabby.” He assures me. “C’mon.” 

“I’m doing something right now.” I argue, not even bothering to look at him as I try to concentrate on not missing the lip of the cup and spilling rum all over the counter. 

“Well, I kinda want you to be doing something else.” He retorts dismissively, tugging at my hips. 

Ignoring him, I finish mixing the drink and turn on my heel to take it back to Jake when it suddenly is at risk of being torn from my hand—Spencer obviously thinking I’ve made it for myself and trying to pester me to just go ahead and leave with him. 

It’s when I try to snatch the drink back that the concoction spills down my shoulder, soaking my shirt and exposed skin, dousing my hair in rum and juice. 

A loud gasp jolts from me as I stand in bewilderment momentarily, my mind lagging to pull a verbal response as Spencer chuckles and lets out a breezy, “I’m sorry,” finding amusement in my frustration as tears pool to my eyes. 

Reaching for me with a paper towel in hand, I throw the cup at him and shove through the small audience gathered in the kitchen from the sound of our commotion as Spence lazily says, “Tabby, c’mon, don’t be mad!” 

Passing by Jake as I sling the front door open and slam it shut, I expect Spencer to be behind me while I stomp to the sea of cars lining the driveway. 

The expected, “Tabby,” does come, but not from my current fling. 

“Hey, what happened?” Jake asks, catching up to me. 

I’m nearly stumbling over my own sandals, my feet almost dragging as I try my best to walk in a straight line before finally giving up and letting out an exasperated groan, stopping to snatch at my shoes and throw them as hard as I can into the vast, green yard, shouting out, “I can’t even walk to the fucking car without it not going my fucking way!” 

My chest heaves with struggling breaths as I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to calm myself down, and he keeps his mouth shut and lets me, only reaching out when he sees the small tremor rattle me as tears break over my lashline. 

His hand rests on the sticky skin of my shoulder, making me warn him, “I’m covered in rum and Sunny D,” in a weak whimper as I roughly wipe at my cheeks. 

“I’ve had worse on me.” He promises, hugging me to him, tightly. 

We stand quietly for a moment as I unwind, my cheek pressed to his t-shirt, definitely smearing my mascara on it, my hands holding tightly to his back. 

“One day you’ll wake up, and it will all be okay, Tabby.” It’s bound to be a fact because he says it so certainly, pulling away to wipe delicately at my face with his fingers to rid it of my tears, looking at me so attentively…it’s like the ghost of how his brother used to look at me, perhaps they hold the same eyes—Jake’s being darker but still possessing the same rich, smooth umber undertone that Josh’s possess. 

I don’t even realize what I’m doing until the want spreads through me the moment I press my lips to his…until we’re backed against someone’s vehicle, tongues interlocked as my fingers grasp at his hair and his hands are digging into the skin of my waist as my top rides up my stomach. 

“Tabby,” He breathes after breaking his attention from my mouth, while I kiss his jaw, his neck, before he repeats, “Tabby,” while gently grasping my face in his hands and looks at me like a wounded animal, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

I don’t answer him, because I don’t want to think about it, my nose brushing his before reaching for his lips with my own once again, only for him to hold my face just a little tighter, doubling down on his question with a, “Hmm?” and a glare of his eyes. 

“Feeling good.” I reply in a whisper, my lips brushing his as I say it, the palm of my hand slipping under his shirt, taking in the warmth of his side as I ask in the next breath, “Don’t you wanna feel good with me?” 

As if it’s that simple, as if there’s not a conglomerate of overlapped complexities skewing what could have been something good in an alternate universe, perhaps.  

I can see the struggle in his eyes, whether to jump with me into recklessness or walk the line as straight as he can for the sake of his brother and what’s left of our friendship with one another. 

He’s better than I am, by far, deciding to keep his steps in line and not assist me in fucking up a situation even further—it’s a rarity coming from the one who’s walked hand-in-hand with most of the trouble I’ve gotten into the last few years. 

“Not like this, Tabby.” It’s feeble, almost sounding cautious, shaking his head gently while self-reproach starts to bloom in his gaze as he darts his eyes from mine as if having to snap himself out of a trance before stepping away, inhaling a deep breath and glancing around to make sure no one has bared witness to our lapse in judgment. 

Embarrassment shrouds me, feeling exposed as I attempt to gather my dignity—smoothing my now-adherent hair down, trying to wipe at the smeared makeup I know is on my face as he offers, “Did Beth drive you?”

“Yeah, I’ll go grab her.” I quickly volunteer to get away from him, only for Jake to already be calling her on his phone. 

He rolls his eyes the moment he sees Spencer walking toward us, stepping away from me to wander off as he waits for Beth to answer. 

“I’m ready to go.” I state, glancing at Jake’s back as he looks over the ground, hearing the sound of his voice as he speaks into the receiver of his phone. 

Spencer looks at me and then at Jake, my bare feet the next on his list of shit to take note of. 

“Baby, can we please go?” My chest is hot from shame, feeling gross at the thought of climbing in the back of his truck somewhere on the way home and letting him touch me. 

Jake’s still talking, leaning down and grabbing something out of the grass before walking several feet away and doing the same thing. 

When he comes closer I see my discarded shoes in his hands. 

“Tell Beth not to worry about it.” I mumble to him as he hands me my sandals, my eyes unable to meet his when I speak to him. 

“Tabby—”

“Spencer, can we please go?” I repeat, not even bothering to put my shoes on before walking toward where he parked. 

I remember the moment I got some space between me and the two boys, I tried to catch my breath, screaming at myself internally to just make one smart, reasonable decision—that I should have found Beth and rode home with her. 

But when Spence raced by to beat me to the passenger side door, opened it for me, and offered his hand to help me get in, I accepted it. 

Two weeks later I moved back to Texas, and fell into a three year, shame-fueled silence on the topic and acknowledgement of my ex-boyfriend, and his brother. 

[kurolini909]

I think Tumblr is finally ready...

To meet the Disastrine!

Here are my three Seeker bbys!!! Stereo, Carl and Lightning! They are the most incompetent, least Decepticon-like trio of Decepticons to ever walk the ranks.

! Do not use or repost my art and characters without permission !

They're all on the younger side ( Young adults ) for Cybertronians, and their utter incompetence lands them far from any real action.

Honestly, nobody knows how they still even function...

Vicarly ;

Better known as Carl, is honestly and truly... Just a guy.

Low-key just a random dude. He's hard working and tries his best, follows orders to a T, buuut... Yeah. Can't even pull off particularly cool seeker-like flight maneuvers. Loser.

Least respectable Trineleader of all time.

Lightningrod ;

Outlier!

Lightning is extremely conductive, even for Cybertronian standards. She essentially attracts lightning when in flight, and is able to redirect that energy into a powerful blast once hit... Buuuut its success rate and strength is quite unreliable. The constant strikes also tend to damage her audials and disturb whoever flies near her.

Lightning has authority issues and often uses her poor hearing as an excuse to disobey orders. Extremely chaotic and impulsive at first sight, though her actions usually do have a logic behind them, and a sound one at that.

Doesn't seem all too committed to the Decepticon cause, either...

Her trinemates keep her in check.

Stereo Hurricane ;

Outlier!

Stereo is sensitive to various frequencies, and can eavesdrop into them with a few adjustments of his receptors. It would be an extremely useful ability for espionage and intel gathering... But he can't control it for slag.

Whether he'll tune in to a top secret Autobot Comm line or some radio blasting Earth pop music is anyone's guess. Has been wrong so often that everyone just regards the information he supposedly had as unreliable.

The amount of noise in his processor also makes Stereo extremely spacey and kind of oblivious to the world around him.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

The Silver Lining

(A/N- Ah yes, Donna, I love her so much)

RL! Donna Beneviento x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Swearing, smut, grinding, and of course face sitting)

When people think of memorable duos, some people think of Bonnie and Clyde or Sherlock and Watson but the first thing you think of is you and Donna. The friendship y’all formed is an unbreakable bond that no one can take away. The both of you are so lucky to have each other, no matter what you or her are struggling with, the other is always there to support and help every step of the way.

It was one of those times again, one of those days when you needed her. You look at your phone in shock when you read the short text message your partner had sent. They broke up with you, not only that but to make matters worse they confessed to cheating on you with one of your friends. You were so confused and lost, the first thing you thought to do was to call your best friend, Donna Beneviento.

With tears dwelling in your eyes and threatening to spill out you dial her number. She surprisingly answered quickly, the shop must be slower than usual today. “Hello?” Donna’s soft voice greeted your ears.

“Hey Donna, could you please come over to my house, something happened and I really need you here.”

Donna's eyes widened when she heard your voice crack just like when you’re crying. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” she frantically questioned, her voice slightly raised out of panic and confusion. She can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.

“No no, I’m okay, physically at least.” You admitted, feeling a little selfish for dragging her out of her work just for your comfort.

“Hm I’ll be right there, stay put dear.”

The beeping sound of the hung up phone went on as the last word Donna spoke ran around your head. Dear? She would always call you pet names, nothing unusual for you two but for some reason the sweet name warmed you up inside. It was a strange feeling.

*Knock knock knock knock*

A familiar knocking sound banged on your door; you already knew it was Donna. You got up to let her in and there you saw Donna’s worried expression plastered on her face. “Come in.”

You lead her to your bedroom since that’s where you both usually hang out together and plus it just felt right at this moment. Taking a seat on the bed, she sits next to you as you explain the whole situation. Donna can feel her blood boil with anger and disgust, “Those fucking bitches, how could they?” She muttered under her breath. She never did like your partner but this made her dislike for them turn into a deep hatred.

Although underneath all that hatred, she felt kinda glad. Glad that you’re finally free now, Donna has always had a huge crush on you, it was obvious to everyone except you, but when you first started dating your partner she was hurt. You were the one that got away, at least she thought, but now she still has a chance.

Donna takes a deep breath before speaking, calming her nerves down. “Don’t waste your energy on dumb bitches like that, they don’t deserve you. You deserve someone better.” She tells you with certainty before her voice drops to a whisper, “Someone like me.”

Your tearful eyes widened at those last words, looking at her to see if she really meant it, but she was avoiding eye contact and her face turned red with embarrassment. “Do you really mean it? Like for real?” You questioned softly.

Silence filled the room for a moment before Donna finally developed the courage to confess, “Yes, I do. I’ve had a small..crush..on you for a long time. I was just afraid to tell you.” Her face somehow managed to get even redder.

“Why..do you like me like that? What is it about me?” Asking in disbelief, Donna is your best friend and you never expected her to have feelings for you out of all people. Honestly you didn’t know how to feel, different emotions are coming at you left and right, it’s natural to be confused like this.

“Well..first off, your stunning personality and smile lights up my world. It makes my entire day, really. Not to mention your looks.” Donna admitted, fidgeting with her hands, not knowing what to do with them, in which you suddenly take her hand in your own. Leaning forward to kiss her, you’re not sure what you’re doing but you just let your body take control.

To your surprise, she kissed back, you would think that Donna would just be standing there frozen due to shyness though that’s not the case right now. She places one hand on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it felt like minutes until she pulled away. “S-sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She breathed out, and you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your lips to hers. This time instead of a soft kiss, it was a much deeper one. Donna was surprised that you took the initiative though she definitely wasn’t complaining. Although, she pulled away again, but this time not out of uncertainty.

“Let me take good care of you, tesoro, way better than they ever could.” Donna confidently said, also asking for consent to continue on further with what will soon to be the best experience of your life.

You gave her a small sound of approval and Donna placed her hand on the side of your face, her thumb almost touching your lips. “No tesoro, I wanna hear you say it.” She smirked at your expression. You never saw Donna act this way before but goddamn she looked so fine right now.

“Take good care of me, I want you right now Donna.” You said seductively, making her blush deeper across her cheeks while she carefully pulled you onto her lap.

“That’s all you needed to say.” Her words made your heart warm, who knew Donna could be so bold. She placed a soft kiss on your lips, letting it linger there while she littered kisses down your neck, nipping at it a little. The increasing anticipation made you want more, you couldn’t help but grind your clothed core on her lap.

Donna's lips stayed on your neck, her hands grabbing your hips to move you a little to the side, positioning your core on her thigh. With her hands resting on your hips you continued your movements, grinding and grinding, sending friction to your clit, ripping a small moan out of you.

“Damn- that feels good. So good.” You moan out quietly, praising Donna’s actions. The praise sent shivers down her spine and made her heartbeat increase. She always adored every compliment you would give her.

“Mm I can’t wait to taste you. Especially that sweetness I know you’ll produce.” She tugs on the hem of your bottoms, prompting you to lift up and swiftly take off everything from your waist down.

She lays herself down on the bed, patiently waiting. You climbed on top of her and straddled yourself onto her stomach, “Are you sure about this?”

Donna smiled at your thoughtful question, “I’m positive.” She said encouragingly, putting your doubts at ease. You move up with knees on either side of Donna’s head, you can see her smile before she takes her hands and makes you sit down all the way. Before you knew it she was already getting to work.

Your hands tangled in her hair as you started to experience waves of pleasure. Donna’s hands grabbed your thighs, forcing you to stay still when you began to squirm. You gave her a pleading look in hopes that she’ll have mercy and let you grind on her face. In response she smiled in your cunt.

“Just let me do all the work darling.” She mumbles the almost inaudible words against your clit, shooting vibrations to the sensitive nerve. The action made your back arch and your stomach getting an unfamiliar sensation. Donna knew you were getting close so she quickened her skilled movements.

The pleasure you felt was almost unbearable; a few tears slipped from your eyes out of utter pure pleasure as your climax hit you full force. Donna’s movements slowed and rubbed small circles in your hips as your muscles relaxed. Once you caught your breath you moved off her, thighs still trembling. Donna sits up and gestures to you to sit next to her.

“Damn I didn’t know you had all that in you.” You teased, making her blush and look away bashfully.

“Mm yeah, let’s rest up I know you need it.” Donna retorted while also changing the subject; you laid down while she kicked off her shoes and took off her gloves. She settled down next to you as you snuggled up closer to her, whispering a small thank you.

“No need to thank me, I won’t let anyone, especially those bastards, break your heart again, I promise.”

Masterlist

[doumadono]

Emergency request.

I was told today that I'll have to get surgery on my back, and I'm really scared about it.

Would it be okay to request comfort from Denki Kaminari for a gender neutral reader? Thank you in advance.

A spark of comfort - Denki Kaminari x gn!Reader

A/N: I'm sorry to hear that you're facing such a daunting situation. It's completely normal to feel scared about surgery. Take things one step at a time, and remember to be gentle with yourself. Sending you lots of positive energy and virtual hugs during this challenging time. If you ever need someone to talk to or just want some company, I'm here for you. Take care ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The weight of the doctor's words still lingered in their mind as they left the clinic. "You will need surgery," he had said, his tone gentle but firm. The words echoed over and over, intertwining with the fear that surged within them. Surgery on their back was a daunting prospect, one that sent shivers down their spine.

The sun had begun its descent, casting an amber glow over the cityscape. Their feet moved almost of their own accord, taking them to a familiar destination. Denki Kaminari’s apartment was a place of solace, a sanctuary where they always found comfort. As a pro hero, Denki was often busy, but he had always made time for them, his closest friend.

The elevator ride to his floor felt interminable, and when they finally stood before his door, their heart pounded in their chest. They hesitated for a moment before knocking softly. 

The door opened almost immediately, and Denki stood there, his usual bright smile faltering slightly when he saw their expression. "Hey, dear," he said, stepping aside to let them in. "What's going on? You look like you just saw a ghost."

They forced a smile, but it didn’t reach their eyes. "Can we talk?"

Denki nodded, concern etching lines across his forehead. "Of course. Come on in."

The living room was cozy, filled with a lot of documents from Kaminari’s work. Denki motioned for them to sit on the couch, and they sank into the cushions, feeling the tension in their body refuse to ease.

Denki sat beside them, his golden eyes scanning their face. "Alright, spill it out. What's got you so wound up?"

They took a deep breath, trying to steady their voice. "I went to the doctor today. They said I need surgery on my back."

His eyes widened, and he reached out, placing a comforting hand on their shoulder. "Whoa, a surgery? That’s serious. What’s going on?"

They explained the situation, detailing the medical jargon and the necessity of the procedure. As they spoke, Denki listened intently, nodding from time to time, his hand never leaving their shoulder, his presence grounding them.

When they finished, he squeezed their shoulder gently. "That’s a lot to take in, dear. I can understand why you’re scared."

"I’m not gonna lie, I’m terrified, Denki," they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. "What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t —"

"Hey, hey," Denki interrupted softly, his voice a soothing balm to their frayed nerves. "I get it. It's a scary thought. But you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, every step of the way."

They looked up, meeting his earnest gaze. "Really? Ah, you’re always so kind to me but I know how busy you are and I just don’t want to —”

"Absolutely," he interrupted them, a determined look in his golden eyes. "You’re my best friend. We’re a team, remember?”

A small smile tugged at their lips. "Yeah, you’re right."

Denki’s smile grew, and he pulled them into a gentle hug. "We’re going to get through this together. And besides, you’re stronger than you think. You’ve got this."

His words, simple yet sincere, seeped into their heart, easing some of the fear. "Thank you, Denki. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"Luckily, you’ll never have to find out," he joked with a wink, releasing them from the hug but keeping his hand on their back, a steadying presence. "Now, let’s figure out how we can prepare for this. We’ll make a plan, and I’ll be with you through every appointment and every step of recovery. And also, you can stay by my place after the surgery. I want to keep my eye on you.”

They nodded, feeling a spark of hope kindling within them. "That sounds good. But… I don’t want to be a bother to you…"

Denki stood up, letting out a sigh, "Listen, you are never a bother. And while we’re planning stuff, how about we get some takeout? I’m thinking of pizza. You need to keep your strength up, and pizza is practically a superhero’s secret weapon."

They laughed, the sound lighter than it had been all day. "Pizza sounds perfect."

As Denki grabbed his phone to place the order, they couldn’t help but feel grateful. The fear of surgery was still there, looming in the background, but with Denki by their side, it felt more manageable. He had a way of making even the darkest moments feel a little brighter, a little less daunting.

Sitting back on the couch, they watched him animatedly order enough pizza to feed an army, and for the first time since leaving the clinic, they felt a sense of calm. Whatever the future held, they knew they wouldn’t face it alone. And that made all the difference.

Denki returned, flopping down beside them and draping an arm around their shoulders again. "Alright, pizza’s on the way. Now, tell me more about this surgery. I want to know everything, so I can help you prepare."

They smiled, the warmth of his friendship enveloping them. "Well, it’s going to be a bit complicated..."

As they began to explain, Denki listened with rapt attention.

"I'm so scared, still... I can't stop thinking about it," they said.

Denki gently rubbed their shoulders, his touch comforting and reassuring. "Hey, listen to me," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I know this is scary, but I also know how incredibly strong and resilient you are. You've faced challenges before, and you've always come out on top. This is just another hurdle, and I have no doubt that you'll handle it with the same grace and courage." The pro hero paused, his gaze locking with theirs, conveying a depth of belief and admiration. "You're a wonderful person, you know that? You have a strength within you that's truly inspiring, and I feel lucky to know you."

After what felt like hours of talking and laughing, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their much-needed distraction in the form of pizza. 

Denki sprang up with enthusiasm, returning with two huge boxes filled with cheesy goodness. 

They shared the meal, savoring each bite and relishing in the simple joy of being together.

As the night drew to a close, Denki insisted on setting up a makeshift bed for them on his couch. 

With blankets and pillows arranged haphazardly, they settled in, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them.

Before drifting off to sleep, Denki squeezed their hand gently, his eyes filled with unwavering support and affection. "You're going to be okay, you know? Before you know it, you'll be back on your feet, stronger than ever."

They smiled, the warmth of his words wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. "Thank you, Denki. For everything."

He grinned back, his own exhaustion evident but his spirit unwavering. "Anytime, partner. Now get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and we've got a battle to win."

With a final exchange of goodnights, they closed their eyes, feeling a sense of peace settle over them like a gentle embrace. In the safety of Denki's apartment, surrounded by friendship, they drifted off into a deep and restful sleep, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that they were never alone.