#so i have to start from scratch and do 4 weeks worth of research on a new topic right now

[buglaur]

britechester’s newest cuties

[contes-de-rheio]

During the first semester of this year, in fact until August, I tried to put my to-do list in an app. I had hope to be able to carry it everywhere with me, with limited additional weight to my backpack, and the idea of being able to sync it in my phone and on any device was appealing. But by the end of August, I had to put the idea to rest. It was never going to work for me. There's nothing easier to ignore than a notification, but there's nothing that can nag more at me than an unread notification. I was losing my mind, and feeling unfocused both at home and at work.

To be fair, I don't think you should be always focused. That kind of productivity is the achievement productivity books are selling you. They can be obnoxious afuck with it. But as my life is shared with my family, my work and my hobbies, I need to be able to keep track of what I must, should or want to do.

So I went back to my organiser. It sounds very fancy. It's not. It's an A5 binder, I filled with doted paper.

I use a mix of influences, but mainly I take inspiration from the original Bullet Journal method, and from Getting Things Done. From the Bujo, I took the idea of collections, of a key code and of very few trackers. From the GTD, I took the weekly review, the in-tray and always starting a task description with a verb. So what does it looks like ?

Here are the basic bones. Six tabs, with 1) routines, 2) weekly view which is gone since I began this post's draft, 3) In-tray, 4) collections, 5) references, 6) archives

The routines contains 2 things: stretching exercises and my trackers. I reduced it to only two trackers, one for tasks needed to be done regularly (I'm not sure I'll keep it), and one to see when I write or "touch" my writing. The notion of "touch your writing (every day)" was introduced to me by Lionel Davoust, to take in account everything around writing that isn't properly speaking writing (editing, correcting, but also plotting, research, brainstorming, sorting...). It helped me to be more forgiving to my failure to write.

The weekly view was supposed to be very simple. Set with the week number at the top, it was directly followed with the list of the main tasks I wanted to accomplish during that week. I only opened the next week during weekly review. The repetition with the In-tray, made it too heavy to manage, and I started to ignore my organiser (that's always the sign something doesn't work). I probably will use that now-empty spot for something else, maybe even dedicate it to learning Japanese.

The In-tray lists every task I can think of, or comes across (except emails answers where I use the unread option in my mailbox). During my weekly review I will go through them and scratch tasks I've (forgot to mark as) done, but also tasks that are no longer relevant. I also add a color code to identify 3 groups of tasks: Professional, Personal, and the ones related to my daughter and partner. (sorry for blurring so much, but privacy is key)

I will only show the index of the collections. Some contain too much sensitive data to show more. Collections are what I want to keep permanently (birthdays, travel lists, embroidery projects lists...)

The reference has only two things atm: the key, and a set-up cheat sheet, because I'm lazy.

Finally the archive is something I use when I need (want) to keep old collections, that are no longer relevant, but worth keeping for legal reason or as memorablia. Currently, I have the detailed calculations of our nanny payslips, and the comments I made for my worst quarter at work (worse in the sense it was too much to handle alone, and I nearly burned out).

That's it. It's been going well so far, and I don't really feel lost on what I could do next, which was plaguing my momentum before. Hopefully, it will last, but I've learned that I shouldn't get too attached to a system. It'll work until it breaks.

[kirakirabluemoon]

Heyy kirakira!🤗🤗 Just checking up on you! Big fan of belladonna and you too!! Was wondering if the Kyoto arc is gonna happen soon? And if the next chapter is coming soon. No pressure though, your writing is always worth the wait.🥳🥳

P.S Hope you are doing well.😁😁

Heyyy! ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Thank you so much for your support and I’m doing well! 💖💖💖🙆🏻‍♀️ Well kinda, I had food poisoning twice within two weeks 🫠 though I’m better now. 💖 Life caught up a little so my time was spilt elsewhere for a while, and also, writer’s block had me in a chokehold, I‘ve been trying to wriggle free. 🌚🤦🏻‍♀️😩😭

Chapter 30 had been rewritten 3, 4, maybe even 5?—I’m not too sure and I wrote quite a bit only to completely scratch it😭—times by now and I think I finally got a draft that I would roll with. Honestly, I never expected Tōno arc to be so uncooperative with me since it’s one of my favourite arcs. 🌚🥲💔 Conversations and story structure aren’t flowing as smoothly as I would have liked and there some parts I’m debating on whether I need to add in anything. So yeah, more research and flipping through my old notes to double check things. 📚📖📒

I really hope I’m able to wrestle writer’s block away for long enough to get this chapter out, because Kyōto arc should be in chapter 31 if things go according to plans. 💪🏻 Praying hard inspiration isn’t as stingy with me as it did this arc. 🙏🏻🌚 I’m honestly not too sure when the next chapter will be out since I’m practically starting over from scratch. 🫠 I feel like it may be less than 10,000 words this time, if so, I might just be able to update in about maybe a month or so? But if I started trolling myself again, it may take more. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Really sorry for the long wait, I didn’t want this to happen either. 🌚😭🫠🙏🏻🤦🏻‍♀️😩 The story just isn’t flowing. 🥲

Ps: Thank you for checking up on me, it warms my heart so much 💖🙆🏻‍♀️🤗 I hope my lovely readers are doing well too! 🌈⭐️⭐️⭐️🍀

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

2022 Writing Year in Review

thank you for the tag @northerngoshawk!! 💕

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 18

2. Word count this year: 172,404 words! we could get really technical and subtract the word counts for the fics i technically wrote in 2021 but typed/posted in 2022, but that’s a lot of work i don’t feel like doing lol

3. Fandoms I wrote for: ATLA, Law & Order, MCU (+ Venom), Monk, and Medium. not sure i want to know what that says about me...

4. Pairings: petermj (mcu), allison/joe (medium), kincoy (claire/jack from l&o), zukaang (atla), tylara (atla), mjflash (mcu), and kataang (atla). a nice mixture!

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: Walls (my mj&flash friendship fic) comes in first with 114 kudos

Bookmarks: Walls comes out on top again with 29 bookmarks!

Comment threads: this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine), my mjflash + venom!flash fic, has the most comment threads by far with 47, the result of a small but loyal following of readers who made my day every time they commented 💛

Word count: by a hair, The Wrong Note (my monk x medium crossover) has the highest word count at 37,630 words! this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine) has 37,011 words

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): im proud of all my works for different reasons! today i shall spotlight my children will listen series, consisting of two waterbending-centric fics narrated by kanna and katara respectively; both stories explore cultural loss and intergenerational trauma. i’d never written companion pieces prior to that point, so im proud of how i was able to construct those parallel narratives! i also had a blast reworking one of my favorite shel silverstein poems to weave throughout the story

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): ?? this is a silly question. fanfic is my hobby, im not writing it for journal publication. onto the next one!

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: literally Every review i got on the children will listen series; i had no idea how impactful those fics would be or how many people would relate to it, but im so glad i ended up writing and publishing them! i also have to shoutout ocean’s review on time apart, time together (the tylara fic i wrote for her bday 💛) bc she truly Understood that story through and through, and i am equal parts delighted and relieved that she did (since it was written for her 💕)

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: i mean, im a college student. i almost never write fic during the semester, lol. i Literally haven’t written fic since,,,, august 2022. (technically i could have written some fic these past few weeks BUT it’s the holidays so i’ve been spending time with family + revising my research paper + loosely working on some original writing)

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: BRUH all of my law & order fics surprised me 😭 come on, babe (why don’t we paint the town?) contains Thee sexiest scene i’ve ever written; find a flask (we’re playing fast and loose) is written SOLELY from jack’s pov (a 50-year-old white man, how low have i fallen); and it was more than worth it (my kincoy magnum opus) was my first foray into nonlinear storytelling. all in all, 2022 was quite an experimental year for me!

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: i’ve talked to death my favorite excerpt from it was more than worth it, so instead i’ll spotlight an excerpt from if memories could fade away (my mj birthday fic):

Ned sticks his tongue out at her, and MJ responds in turn before opening the door anyway, because he’s Ned and she’s MJ and it’s always been just them, the two of them, eight years going on eighteen.

“Damn, girl, you live like this?” Ned says as he enters, watching where he steps so he doesn’t trip over one of her many piles of everything—textbooks, clothes, journals, old CDs too scratched to use that will soon become the basis of MJ’s next art project: voices we no longer hear.

She remembers getting each CD, starting with Let Go on her tenth birthday, back when she lived in New Orleans and always kept her curly brown hair in symmetrical cornrows or cropped at the base of her neck because of the suffocating humidity. She remembers taking each CD and ripping the music to her computer so her dad could move it onto her tiny red MP3 player for the long, long ride to Queens that began the next day. She remembers two CDs breaking during the drive and one CD breaking when they arrived because she threw it at the wall of her empty new room, angry, so angry she’d been ripped from her home like music from a shiny silver disc and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair—

“You see, guests usually stay downstairs,” MJ teases, pushing aside a pile of clothes so Ned has room to sit on her bed. She takes a seat at her desk, spinning the chair around to face her dearest friend. “If I’d known you were planning to invade my personal space, I might have considered making my living arrangements more presentable.”

Ned snickers. “Considered, and then not done a damn thing about them?”

MJ winks at him. “You know me so well.”

Ned has known her so long, known her messy room, known her impenetrable walls, known her since she was thrown into a new school in a new city expected to make new friends when Michelle knew even at ten that would never happen, not that year, because 5th graders had already chosen their loyal companions five, six, seven years ago and there was no room for a Black girl to fit into a white noise machine that already hummed along without her.

Her parents sent her to school anyway. She must not have been persuasive enough.

MJ MY BELOVED!!! 🥺💛 i enjoyed playing with sentence length/rhythm and metaphors/similes in this fic, and i think this excerpt in particular captures that experimentation

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: hmmmm well i tried my hand at some action sequences in this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine), which probably counts for something. and like i already mentioned, it was more than worth it was my first foray into nonlinear storytelling (and a lot of people told me they enjoyed it!) + if memories could fade away involved stylistic experimentation. in other words, i think i grew as a writer simply by letting myself try new things, from how i told stories to what content i included within them!

13. How do you hope to grow next year: i just want to write more, honestly. the more i write, the more i can try, and hopefully the more i’ll grow! to be more specific, i want to try my hand at some sci-fi/near-future dystopian original stories (à la kazuo ishiguro’s klara and the sun)

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): probably ocean and ambi! they always put up with my fic-related ramblings, are wonderful to bounce ideas off of, and by virtue of their existence (and enthusiasm) remind me why i love writing fic in the first place 💛 in terms of non-tumblr influences, haha, reading the promise by damon galgut was a GAME CHANGER for me. third person omniscient with no quotation marks?? the entire story is an allegory for post-apartheid south africa?? a stylistic and thematic MASTERPIECE. i can only dream of writing a novel with such artistic daring

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: lol this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine) is packedTM with shakespeare references and milton jokes; if memories could fade away explicitly mentions one of avril lavigne’s albums (seen in the provided excerpt); won’t you hang a picture? references nancy drew; and Walls involves a whole project about the picture of dorian gray. when narratively appropriate, i never hesitate to sneak in my own interests 😂

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: write for fun! write what you love! don’t be afraid to experiment! listen to the incredibles soundtrack while you write! read, read, read! write with a cat on your lap! never delete anything! write when you’re inspired and write when you’re not! if it brings you joy to create, then what you create is good enough!

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: honestly, i want to focus on my original writing and my research more, so i may not have as much time for fic. that said, i hope to write:

a sequel to this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine)

the next part of my mcu medium!au

ml fic in general

atla fic in general

time will tell!

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: i know a lot of people have been tagged for this already, so apologies if im bombarding you or if you’ve already done this! i’ll tag @justoceanmyth, @ambivalentmarvel, @seek--rest, and @shifuaang :)

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

28 Days Later | Akito | Trial 5.1 | Re: Adrik, END, Kenshin

It had been a grueling month for the thespian formerly known as Erik Azrael, and so little of the façade remained that it was instead Akito Mikage who arrived at the lobby. His steely expression belied a maelstrom of emotions, bubbling underneath both his figurative and literal masks, broken only when the flash of an unmistakable scowl crosses his features at something that one of the sisters have said. It passes soon after, but it was there.

Regardless, his composure evens itself out by the time what remains of the group enters the trial room for the fifth and hopefully final time, and he leans forward in his seat as the discussion starts. "I'd also woken up at six o'clock after the morning rave, and went back to bed with Erik A while Adrik went about their routine," Akito recapitulates. "Erik A was still asleep when I got up for good, and I left the room around nine o'clock after a quick wash-up. Didn't encounter anyone on my way to the Food Court, and I treated myself to a breakfast of banana crepes. Afterwards, I left the floor behind around fifteen minutes before ten, and headed up to the Library where I remained for the rest of the morning until the announcement sounded, archiving some of the research projects on my phone and notebook in the hopes of getting the information out somehow."

In hindsight, it was probably pointless given how hush-hush this entire experiment had been and the lengths the sisters would go through to hide it, but an attempt made was not an attempt wasted.

"I'm fairly certain that taser is- was Eureka's. Two weeks ago, she bequeathed it to Erisu in the trial room, and I believe it's the same model given she also used it on Jae-min earlier during that week. I don't remember how many charges it has though, and while I seem to remember that it was single-use until recharged, I'm not confident of that answer. Regardless, I concur that it was involved at some point, and I think that the marking is quite similar to the discolouration we found on Ae-ra's apron, which we do know was caused by the taser." Eureka had admitted as such. "Regarding the actual murder weapon, there were faint scratch marks on the centre of the curtain strip, so I'm inclined to agree that it was used on her, with the bits of skin under her nails lining up with the small amounts of scratching on her neck."

Akito drums his fingertips on the crook of his elbow. "As Adrik mentioned, the tablet An confiscated wasn't Erisu's original tablet. It's also worth noting, as Kenshin has clued us into, that she limped to the crime scene from the lobby after all of us had gathered in the area. Based on how we were granted access to two floors that we had not otherwise had access to, and how Erisu’s hand seemed like it was positioned below the tablet reader next to the elevator buttons at the opened doors, I'm of the thought that it may have belonged to one of the sisters. An admin tablet, if you will, that allowed us to see the other victims of the experiment on Floor 4."

[bryregrad702]

Week 4 Proposal/Pitch

Pitching my idea today, I came away feeling very overwhelmed. I’ve been feeling quite anxious about this project, and I think this is because what I am currently trying to do is just way too much. I need to take some time to scope the project again, pitching this as an 8 week undergraduate project - not a masters level project. 

I think that all the contextual reading, and all the positioning that I’ve been doing, as well as all the reserach I need to do in order to feel like I am in an okay position to even begin this project is just feeling so insurmountable in the amount of time I have here. I’m getting pretty snowed under with everything I need to read, let alone reaching a place where I can begin to design. 

So I think I need to do a few  things:

Choose what contextual areas I need to reserach, and not read outside of these areas (for now) because I just do not have the capacity to learn it all

Stop looking at Te Ao Māori as something I need to understand. I am spending time reframing my views, breaking down some bias and scratching the surface of what it means to be a tauiwi designer designing in response to Māori contexts. But I do not need to be an expert, nor can I be. There is a lifetime worth of learning you could do, this cannot be fast tracked, and it would be ridiculous to think it can be. So instead, I need to create and stay in conversation with Māori people. Maybe I could make it easier by looking more into aspects of Te Ao Māori that I have already identified e.g, Te Ao Mārama, and having conversations with Denise about language used in the layers framework

Start creating. Stop being paralysed by researching and justifying everything, and just begin to make. From there, you will have something that can be critiqued to be more culturally appropriate, and you’ll start to feel like you have actually moved forward. 

‘We build our ideas so that we can test them, and because actually making something reveals opportunities and complexities that we’d never have guessed were there. Making is also a fantastic way to think, and it helps bring into focus the feasibility of our designs. Moreover, making an idea real is an incredibly effective way to share it. And without candid, actionable feedback from people, we won’t know how to push our ideas forward.’

IDEO, The Field Guide to Human Centred Design. 

I’m starting to recognise that this anxious feeling about a design project is a warning sign that what I am attempting to do is way too big. I am small, and design, I believe can only act to serve, in the little ways it can. And that is doing its part, and that is enough. To create change, we need to work together, all people with all their different expertise. 

[slafkovskys]

just like your momma / o. lindmark

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from lady by brett young

warning! brief mentions of labor and childbirth

-

slivers of light pour from the house behind you, illuminating the scene in front you as the sun had set hours before. you sigh as your feet push through the water, hands pressing against the old wood of the dock as you lean forward. besides the frogs croaking along the bank and the moon high above you, you were alone, left to your thoughts.  

the creaking of the boards behind you causes you to jump, whipping your head around quickly. owen pauses, smiling sheepishly as he holds up two cans. you shake your head before turning back around, silent as he sits down beside you.

“my apologies,” he mumbles, holding out a can for you.

“i can’t, owen, but thank you,” you send him a grin before looking down into your lap. you pull on the drawstring of your sweatpants while he tilts his can against his lips.

“what’s going on, y/n?” he asks, looking out over the lake. you turn to look at him and he diverts his eyes to you before shrugging and turning away, “you’ve been, i don’t know, weird this week. plus, i have never seen you turn down a drink.”

“i’m pregnant,” you announce, getting it over with. he inhales sharply and you nod, “i’m new to this, but i do know that alcohol isn’t the best thing for me right now.”

“oh shit,” he whistles and you hum. he takes another sip from his can. he clears his throat, “is it, um, the dad-”

“yep.”

“is he gonna-”

“nope,” you tilt your head back and close your eyes, “as a matter of fact, he made a phone call immediately after i told him, and now he’s got his parent’s lawyers drawing up the papers to sign away his rights as quickly as possible. he didn’t even consider it, being a father that is.”

“okay,” you hear the aluminum of his can hitting the surface of the dock. he sighs, “i’m sorry.”

“why are you sorry, owen? you have no reason to be. it’s not your fault that i’m knocked up by some asshole at twenty,” you turn to him to find him looking out over the lake just as you had been. “hey,” you call, “are you mad at me?”

“no, god no. why would i be mad at you, y/n? i’m mad at him. i’m just trying to convince myself why it would be a bad idea to drive to his house and beat him up,” he scoffs, looking at you. “not coming up with any cons to that. what about you?”

“it would make me really upset if you got caught,” you send him a soft smile, “and, plus, he’s not worth it.”

“still, he’s an asshole,” he shakes his head. he seems to be thinking for a moment before he speaks again, “that’s why you’ve been acting different, huh?”

“what do you mean?” you lift your feet out of the water and rest them on the dock, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head on your knees.

“this week, you’ve been different. you haven’t been wakeboarding, jumping off the boat, doing the stupid stuff with us like you usually do. i saw you with drinks, but, now that i’m thinking about it,  i never saw you drink out of them.”

“my baby will not be born knowing what a white claw tastes like,” you announce and he chuckles. you sigh, “guess i wasn’t as good at acting normal as i thought i was then.”

“i mean, i probably would’ve caught on at some point, but now that you’ve told me, a lot of things are making sense,” he says and you smile.

“gotcha-” you cut yourself off with a yawn. you scratch out your legs before pushing yourself up, “i think that i’m going to go to bed. i’ve been out here for a while.”

“okay, see you in the morning,” he calls after you as you head towards the house.

you close the door behind you and head to your room down the hall. you changed out of your clothes into something looser and more comfortable before sliding into bed. you closed your eyes and waited for unconsciousness to consume you, but it never did.

you tossed and turned for what felt like hours, but when you turned to look at the clock, it had only been thirty minutes. with a sigh, you push the covers off of your body and leave your room. the house was darker now, a couple of lights still on in case someone got thirsty or needed the bathroom during the night. you grip onto the banister as you ascend, heading for owen’s room.

you push open the door and quietly slip inside. you pad over to the bed to find him taking up most of it, arms and legs splayed out. you push his arm aside as you slide in and even though you try to be quiet, he lets out a groan, “y/n?”

“were you asleep?” you whisper, turning on your side to face him.

“no, i just got back in here,” he lies easily, rolling onto his side. he peaks open his eyes which you’re barely able to make out, “what’s going on?”

“i’m scared owen,” you admit, pulling on the covers to go above your shoulders, “i’m really fucking scared.”

“you’re keeping it, yeah?” he asks, reaching a hand out and rubbing your arm. you bite your lip and nod. he hums, “then i promise you now, you have nothing to be worried about. you’re not gonna go through this alone. no matter what, i’m here for you. you always have me.”

“you promise,” you let him pull you closer and you curl against his chest.

“i promise.”

-

what floor are you on?

you read the text a few times before you respond: why?

because y/n i’m standing in the lobby and everyone is looking at me funny

they’re gonna get security any minute and i’m telling them your name

i won’t go down alone

you sigh before sending him a ‘4’ and waiting for his response. he liked the message and didn’t respond causing you to press the side button on your phone and drop it in your lap. you turn your head towards the frosted door and wait for a figure to approach.

he wasn’t actually here, was he?

it took a minute or two before a distorted figure approached and pulled open the door. the brunette walks in and your mouth drops. he sees you and smiles, walking over to take the empty seat beside you, “good morning.”

he was.

“why are you here?” you look at him bewildered. it was barely ten o’clock in the morning and you knew that he had a lecture. a lecture that started thirty minutes ago and was almost five hours away.

“you thought that i was going to find out the gender over facetime?” he lets out a ‘psh’ noise and relaxes against the chair. “c’mon y/n. it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“owen, you’re supposed to be in a lecture right now and you-  madison is so far away. what time did you leave?” you ask him, suddenly very concerned. “are you gonna get in trouble?”

“i talked to my professor last week and after i explained what was going on, she said it was okay for me to miss a class. i also have to tell her what you’re having,” he reaches over to rub a hand over your bulging stomach. “and i left before four, somehow managed to beat traffic, and surprise you.”

“i’m definitely surprised,” you say, crossing your legs and turning your body towards his. his hand still rests on your belly as he scrolls through his phone. it wasn’t as if you minded because honestly, you’d grown used to it. “what about practice?”

“y/n, stop worrying. i’ve got all my bases covered. i’m good,” he looks at you with eyes that you want to believe were telling you the truth. he looks back down at his phone, “oh, but on the off chance that you do get a call from coach, you’re eight months pregnant and think that you’re having contractions. okay?”

“owen!” you whisper shout just as a nurse pushes open the door and calls your name. you grab your bag and stand, shoving his shoulder as you walk past, “i can’t believe you.”

“just making sure that our story is straight, y/n. geez,” he teases as he rubs his shoulder. he takes your bag before you step onto the scale, throwing it over his shoulder. “what do you have in here?”

“you’re so funny,” you make a face as the nurse charts your weight and leads you into one of the rooms. owen takes a seat in the chair against the wall while you get on the bed, answering the questions as the nurse fires them at you. with a grin, she rolls over to measure your belly. you lift your shirt for her and you hear owen sharply inhale. you look at him confused, “what is it?”

“you just- it just didn’t look that big when you facetimed me the other day,” he says, bewildered at first but he quickly realized what he had said and quickly backtracked, “i didn’t mean big as in big. i meant big as in the baby-”

“i know what you meant owen,” you giggle and so does your nurse. “i’ve just popped since you saw me last. it’s normal.”

“for twenty-two weeks, you’re actually a little bigger than normal which may mean a big baby,” your nurse states and you sigh. “maybe they’ll let us find out what they are today?”

“oh, i hope,” you sigh.

at your last appointment, you had been far enough along to finally find out the gender. your baby, however, had other plans. the way that they were positioned made it impossible to conclusively tell what you were having so you just gave up and decided to wait the extra four weeks to see.

“do we have any predictions?” she asks, rolling the machine over and letting you lean back.

“i just want my baby. i don’t care what they are,” you say as she tucks the paper in the waistband of your leggings to shield them from the gel that would go on your stomach.

“what about you, dad?” she says and the air almost shifts before owen pipes up without missing a beat.

“boy. i want to put him in hockey,” he looks at you knowingly.

“they’ll play if they want to play. he’s not going to be forced,” you don’t mention that owen wasn’t the father, but it weighs heavy in the back of your mind as she flicks off the light and squirts the gel on your stomach.

“let’s see,” she moves the wand around, looking for your baby. she finds them and you can’t help but smile as they show up on the screen. they shift a little and owen whistles. you turn your head and hold out your hand, the nerves suddenly getting to you. he stands quickly and grabs onto your hand as the nurse presses some buttons and chuckles, “well, it looks like you’ll need to start researching co-ed teams.”

“it’s a girl?” you ask for confirmation. she nods and you look at owen who, despite his earlier admission, is staring at the screen with a smile on his face so wide his cheeks have to be hurting. “baby rue,” you whisper and owen squeezes your hand.

the nurse lets you hear the heartbeat before taking some pictures and flicking the light back on. the black and white picture of your baby, your daughter, was still on the screen and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as she cleaned the gel from your stomach and raised you back up. “your doctor will be here in a few minutes to talk to you, alright? congratulations!”

“thank you!” you say as she walks out of the door.

as soon as the door shuts fully, owen squats down and gets right beside your stomach, “hey buddy, can i still call you that? thank you for letting us finally see what you are. i hope your stubbornness doesn’t transfer when you’re born. you're bigger than you should be which i guess is a sign your mom’s feeding you good? anyway, i can’t wait to see you, rue, and i love you so much and so does your mom.”

his lips press to the side of your stomach and you sniffle, causing him to look up. “my hormones are out of whack, owen. you can’t make fun of me.”

“i wasn’t gonna,” he chuckles, leaning over to kiss the side of your head. “besides if anyone should be emotional, it’s me. i had fifty bucks on this baby being a boy and now i’ve got to pay cole.”

before you can scold him for betting on your child’s gender (though you're not surprised that he did), your doctor walks in and makes you forget about it. thirty minutes later, you’re walking out of the office building with a strip of sonogram pictures and your next appointment. you give one to owen and you didn’t miss him carefully placing it in his wallet after he got into his car or when he took you out for breakfast, staring at it when he slid his card out to pay.

-

“did you even shower?” you ask as you pull away from owen’s embrace. “i haven’t gotten sick since the first trimester but i genuinely think that you’re bringing it back.”

“you know exactly where to hit me where it hurts don’t you,” he shakes his head, fixing the beanie on top of his obviously wet hair. “i did, actually. ask cole.”

“don’t ask me anything,” cole shakes his head, holding your phone in his hand. “now smile, pretend like you're happy to see each other. rue’s done eight months hard time and it needs to be documented, i was told.”

“eight months?” owen asks as you wrap an arm around his waist and he throws one of his around your shoulder.

“i’m not gonna see you when i hit eight so we’re rounding. now, happy face,” you smile towards cole and owen sighs before doing the same. cole takes a few pictures as you’d instructed before handing you your phone back. “thanks cole!”

“anytime,” he smiles before looking towards owen who was leaning against the wall beside you, “are you sure that you don’t want to go out with us?”

you look up at owen who was busy sending cole a death glare. you nudge his side with your elbow, “you don’t have to stay in just because i’m here, owen. you should go out and celebrate with your teammates.”

“what about you though?” he tugs you gently into his side, leading you towards the door with cole following a few steps behind.

“i’m twenty-one years old, owen. i can get myself back to your apartment just fine. i’m tired anyway. i’ll probably take a shower and crash immediately afterward,” you shrug.

“please don’t use the word crash,” he grumbles as he opens your car door for you. you shake your head and slip into the driver’s seat. he leans in, “are you sure? i don’t mind coming home with you.”

“go have fun. i’ll be there when you get back,” your cheeks burn as he places a kiss on the top of your head. “don’t do anything stupid.”

“you know me,” he chuckles before shutting your car door. he waves his hand before heading off in the opposite direction.

you sigh before starting your car and putting it in drive, pulling away from kohl center. of course you had planned on owen coming back to the apartment with you, but you weren’t going to stop him from going out and having fun just because you couldn’t.

that wasn’t fair to him nor was it right of you.

the drive back to his apartment wasn’t bad considering that most of the game traffic was gone. you went straight up to his floor and practically collapsed onto the couch after depositing your stuff onto the kitchen table.

you run your hand over your stomach as her foot nudges your side. you grin, “shouldn’t you be sleeping rue?”

as if she could hear you, she shifts around before stilling. you sigh, looking around the apartment. it was obvious that four college boys lived in it, based on the posters and the dishes that were in the sink when you had arrived yesterday. even though you had only been able to visit a handful of times since they had moved in, there were little touches of you dotted around. some examples being the sonogram duct-taped (directly beside a perfectly capable magnet but “we wanted it to stay”) to the refrigerator door, the scrunchie on the counter that hasn’t moved since you forgot it there two months before, and the silver ‘it’s a girl’ balloon that hung off-center above the couch.

and in owen’s room, which you had pushed yourself up off the couch to retire to, was an obvious sign that you had been here. the body pillow splayed across his bed because you couldn’t sleep on your back anymore, the perfume bottle you left on his dresser just in case you forgot yours back home, the purse that you keep forgetting to grab from his door handle when you leave, all evidence of how you had integrated into his life so quickly, so easily.

your shower was as quick as you could make it and after brushing your teeth, you slip under owen’s warm comforter. it was strange not having him there beside you. you had grown accustomed to it actually, him running his hand through your hair as you slipped peacefully into unconsciousness as he tells some story about something that had happened in the locker room. the bed felt empty, cold.

i shouldn’t have told him to go.  

you shake your head at the thought before closing your eyes, hoping to drift off quickly. unfortunately, that doesn’t happen and you toss and turn for another hour. you weren’t sure what time it was when you heard someone enter the apartment, but you wouldn’t be lying when you said that you got a nervous feeling when a single set of footsteps approached owen’s bedroom.

you shut your eyes, like that would ward off an intruder, as the doorknob twists and someone walks in. there was a sigh, a familiar one thankfully, as you hear him slip off his shoes. it takes a minute before a weight drops down onto the bed and a hand touches the covered skin of your stomach.

“hi rue,” his voice is gentle as it always was when he talked to her, “it’s me, owen, but i hope that you would know that by now. you’ve grown a lot since i last saw your mom which isn’t a bad thing, keep doing that.

“mom says that you’re making her back hurt and giving her heartburn. i know that you can’t help it, but if you could lay off of her a little bit i think she would like that a lot. also, the braxton-hicks, rue i know that you want to come out, but you’re not ready yet. your mom has done a good job being your home and i know that it’s getting cramped in there, but you just need to hang out in there for a little longer, okay? we both want to meet you really bad, but we want you to be healthy when we do, deal?”

you raise a hand to run through his hair. he looks up and you grin, “you’re sweet.”

“and you were awake that whole time?” he asks and you nod. he shakes his head, “this is an a and b conversation, so if you could c yourself out of it, it would be much appreciated.”

“what are you, thirteen?” you giggle and he stands up. you rest your hands under your head, watching as he starts to change out of the suit. you can’t stop yourself before the words spill from your mouth, “our daughter is lucky to have you.”

he freezes and so do you. you quickly try to backtrack, “no, i didn’t-”

“don’t apologize,” he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his legs before turning to face you, “i want to be that for her. if you’ll let me, of course.”

“be- be what?”

“her dad. her father figure at least,” he stands beside his bed and holds out his hand to help you sit upright. he hands you your water bottle before taking up the space across from you, “y/n, i love you. i want to be a family with you and before you say that i’m not thinking, i am. i’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

“owen, i couldn’t ask you to do that,” you shake your head, playing with the lid of your bottle. “you’re nineteen. your career has barely begun. you don’t want to be a dad right now.”

“i didn’t until you got pregnant and now,” he shakes his head before tentatively reaching for your hand, “i can’t imagine not being in her life. i want to dress up in tutus and tiaras, have tea parties, or even teach her hockey if she wants. i want to be her dad and i have never wanted anything more.”

“it doesn’t bother you that she’s not yours?” you ask, rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand.

“it used to, i’m not going to lie, but in every way except biological, i feel like she’s mine. i’m the one who’s gone with you to your appointments. i’m the one who felt her kick for the first time. i helped you pick out names. i’m the one who even put together her crib.”

and he had. the thing was, you hadn’t even asked him to do that. you woke up from a nap one day to find him not beside you but instead across the hall with a half-assembled crib and a confused expression on his face. “this is gibberish,” he held out the directions for you to read over.

your stomach turns again and you were positive it wasn’t your daughter kicking you. it was a feeling you had never felt before. it was good, so fucking good though. owen wanted your baby, wanted her to be his, to be yours together. he wanted to raise her as if she was his own and, just as he said, in every way that meant something, she was.

you look up at him, “you can’t change your mind. i know that i have no idea what i’m doing, but i want her to have stability. if you’re going to be her dad, you don’t get to pick and choose when you get to act like it. it’s a forever type of commitment, owen.”

“i am aware of that y/n,” he smiles, “you don’t have to give me an answer tonight. i know it’s a big decision and it’s completely up to you. i just want you to know that regardless, you both have me. forever.”

“pinky promise?” you whisper and he, without hesitation, hooks his pinky with your own. “oh, um, before i forget, ryder asked if i would make breakfast in the morning. do you have any requests?”

“he asked you to make us breakfast?” he raises his eyebrows and you nod. “does he know that you’re seven months pregnant?”

“i would be very surprised if he hadn’t noticed.”

-

it happened so quick, labor did.

one minute, you were on your ball pleading with your daughter to make a move and the next, you're frantically trying to get a hold of owen who was minutes away from hopping on a plane to boston.

he barreled through the door a few hours later, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled, and suddenly everything felt right as he approaches the bed.  

“how are you?” he asks, grabbing onto your hand when you reach out for him. his lips press to your sweaty forehead.

“i feel fat,” you mumble, joking a little bit.

“baby, you’re gorgeous-”

“i didn’t say i was ugly owen, i said that i was fat,” you deadpan. his face flushes and you crack a small grin, “i’m just messing with you. lighten up.”

“how can you joke right now?” he looks at the monitors that you were hooked up to. “how far dilated are you?”

“seven centimeters. i was four when i came in so she’s progressing pretty well,” you squeeze his hand as another contraction hits. he breathes with you through it, assuring you how good you were doing. “contractions are very close together now and she should be back to check me again in like twenty minutes or something.”

he runs a hand through your hair, “can i get you something? a snack? some water?”

“the only thing i can have is ice chips in case something goes wrong or she doesn’t want to come naturally and they have to-” you trail off, both of you knowing what you were referring to.

“so, we wait.”

and you didn’t wait very long.

four hours later, her cries filled the room as she entered the world. you look at owen in shock as they lay her on your chest to find him crying. you look down at your daughter, “hello, sweet girl.”

“i’m so proud of you,” owen presses his lips to the top of your head before he’s handed the scissors. he follows the nurse over to where they carry your daughter to wrap her up while the nurses tend to you.

once you’re finally left alone with her, owen sits beside you on the bed, holding her close to his chest. “i’ve never loved and i will never love anyone even a fraction as much as i love you.”

“thank you for being with me,” you mumble, watching as the pacifier bobs between her lips as she sleeps, “and her.”

“i didn’t have anywhere else to be,” he grins and you swat at his thigh. he grins at you before looking down at the baby in his arms, “so, what’s the final name decision mama?”

“maya ruby,” you pause, resting your head on his shoulder, “lindmark.”

his grin grows impossibly wider, “i like that sound of that.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Rejected Requests Part 13

Hello everyone! I am unfortunately back with another set of Rejected Requests (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6 , Pt 7 , Pt 8 , Pt 9 , Pt 10, Pt 11, Pt 12)

I understand this is very disappointing for many of you (especially those that have been waiting for a long time). I promise it has nothing to do with you, and mostly it’s just because my brain has decided it doesn’t want to cooperate.

I will post the rejected fics below the cut. I want to give you the opportunity to ask another Writer (check the list of Writers currently seeking requests here! It’s been recently updated!) For some, I’ve already allowed another author to take a whack at it, and I’ll link to them below!

Here is the list for anyone who might want to pursue the request with someone else, or for any writers that are looking for inspiration.

@reidgraygubler , my love who might as well have first dibs on all of my requests because they take so many of them like the true MVP, jumped at this idea. Since they expressed an excitement (and I just received 5 requests in less than a week) they agreed to take this one on for you! They will do a wonderful job, as always ❤️

Hey friend! This is so sweet, but unfortunately I'm just not up for a lot of requests right now, especially ones that will require a lot of characters/scenes. That being said, I think this is super adorable and I really hope someone writes it!

If it helps, there will be a similar scene in a later episode of TB&TB, which I think might scratch that itch.

Ah, I actually love love triangles. Unfortunately, we view Hotch's character on opposite ends of the spectrum, so anything I wrote would be far removed from your original request. I'm also not attracted to Hotch at all (he reminds me of my dad 😅) so I would struggle with him.

I'm sure there are people out there who would love to write this, though!

Your message was so sweet and I am honored that you took the time to send it. As you mentioned, I've written a lot of things similar to your first request so I think I'm burned out of them for now. I also got a few more Autistic Reader requests that aren't shown here. As much as I love writing them, they do exhaust me when I do (especially since they are usually meltdowns). I will try to include more bear hugs in them just for you, though!

As for the second one, I find the idea absolutely hilarious. I'm just not that familiar with childbirth and I'm too lazy to do a lot of research for the fic 😭 That being said, I will be adding it as a prompt whenever I do a challenge for "Stuck Together" because it really is very funny.

I'm so relieved to hear that my BPD fic was comforting to you! Unfortunately, I don't like to write them because not only do I not have BPD, I don't have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria or a similar disorder. I have a really hard time putting myself in that position of that Reader, and I don't think I'd be able to put out something good.

I would love to help someone write this, though, if they are interested.

ALL OF THE BELOW ARE NSFW, MINORS DNI

Wow! You weren’t joking when you said you’ve thought about this a lot. I’m honestly impressed and halfway feel like I’ve already read the fic, lol!

Whenever someone approaches me with a request like this, I usually urge them to take a swing at it themselves. Your vision for this world sounds amazing, and I think it’d be a great place for you to start. I’d be happy to help you if you want, but I want it to be yours!

That being said, @reid-me-a-story wanted to take it on, as well! So you can message them about any follow up questions/comments!

I’m devastated no one took this request from me because it sounds like a blast. I have no reason for rejecting it other than I don’t see myself writing it for so long that it’s not worth it for you and I wanted to put you out of your misery.

I love the idea of Spencer just starting to blabber about his fantasies and then he can’t stop and they’re coming to life around him and he’s a complete wreck… yeah ❤️

Hey friend! Unfortunately, I’m not up for CNC, which is (I think?) what you’re asking me for. This is actually my bad, because I didn’t put it on my Request Guidelines (just edited them to fix it)!

I hope that you can find someone to help you out with your request. Thank you for your super kind words - I wish you all the best! ❤️

@reidgraygubler wanted to snatch this one from me! I actually really love the idea, I just couldn’t come up with something that made me happy enough to write. Picturing him all giddy and excited to finally be properly taken care of is fucking adorable, tho. I can’t wait to see what Shadow does with it!

That’s it for now, folks! If you’ve read this far… Thank you!

Sorry for all of you that I denied, but I hope that this clears you to ask some of the other authors here!

Thank you for your support. I appreciate all of you more than I can explain!

[catflorist]

The Time Being (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: Time-slipping is a side effect of wielding the Rinnegan. When Sasuke slips through time, he always goes to Sakura, whether he wants to or not. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

pt 8: roots

"Your hair is so long now," Ino said, over a quiet dinner at Sakura's apartment. "Are you sure you don't want me to cut it?"

"It's okay, Pig," Sakura said, moving the food around on her plate.

"I'm going to miss seeing that forehead of yours," Ino said, voice bright, but she wasn't eating either.

Silence fell, and the food grew colder. Hime leapt onto the tabletop and pestered Ino for affection.

"Ino." Sakura took a deep breath. "Can you tell Tsunade-shisou and Kakashi-sensei not to worry?"

Ino touched Sakura's shoulder. "Of course I'll tell them."

The next day, Karin knocked at the door, carrying a traveling pack. Inside was a stack of Sasuke's clothes, neatly-folded with uchiwa fans facing up.

"I know a lot of his things must already be here," Karin said. "But I went by his place, and I thought you would like to have these."

"Aren't you coming?" Sakura asked.

Karin wrinkled her nose. "Jugo's found his calling. Suigetsu's students are pretty needy, and they cry a lot as it is. There's also my research. If I leave, I just know someone will ruin my samples." She looked out Sakura's window. "I think this village needs us now. We'll watch over it for you both."

When she visited Naruto, Sakura spoke directly, for his sake.

"I'm leaving, and I don't know if I'll be back," she said, hands folded on his kitchen table.

Naruto's eyebrows knit together. His features were built for joy, and Sakura did not know how to react to this sober expression.

"You're wearing the dobe's shirt," he protested quietly, staring at the floor. "Don't you want some of mine?"

Sakura let out the breath she was holding and sorted through his closet.

"Don't take that one, it has a stain…ouch!" Naruto cried, as Sakura crushed him in a hug.

"Ogenkide," she whispered to her friend. Be well even if I don't see you.

.

.

The news broke on the sixth day. Uchiha Sasuke had abandoned his mission and once more cemented himself as a rogue nin. He did not even make it to Suna.

Whether he had made the choice, or the mission's absurd structure led to his failure, Sakura didn't know. The village had what they wanted.

For weeks after, Anbu agents followed her, Team Taka, and Naruto around the village. Sakura would wake up in the middle of the night at the slightest sound––the sink dripping, Hime purring. Her chakra never ceased boiling under her skin, prepared to fight at any moment. But after it became clear Sasuke was gone, and would not attempt anything rash, the Anbu vanished.

Sakura worked without rest to establish her pediatric center. It might be her last contribution to the village, and she wanted to do it right.

A year passed before the center was built, staffed, and operational.

Sakura packed her belongings, mostly her selection of Naruto and Sasuke's clothes, and did not request a leave of absence. She said her goodbyes.

One task remained. Sakura visited the square on her way to the village gates. Facing the council building she built, Sakura understood her mistake. It was impossible to coax deep-rooted, corrupted things to grow into a more pleasing shape. It was better to tear them from the soil and start fresh.

Murmurs of creaking wood filled the night air. The council building ungrew, shrinking back to the earth. In the morning, the citizens of Konoha discovered a tree marking where their government was once seated. This was Sakura's parting gift.

.

.

As Sakura resided by the ocean, a young Sasuke appeared, again and again.

First he attacked her, then he pestered her with questions. Finally, he did not want to be around her at all. In the same moment he slipped into her home, he was already moving to slam the door on his way out.

Months passed and Sasuke's visits remained as consistent as the tides. Eventually his anger cooled to resentful acceptance. He did not even bother to punish her door. Sakura grew used to the sight of him sulking outside the house.

Beyond her long hair, Sakura made no effort to hide the uchiwa fan adorning her back. The answers to Sasuke's questions were obvious, if he cared to look, but he was blinded by pain and anger. Even if she told him the truth, he would not believe her.

One night Sakura awakened with a flash of movement outside the window. Sasuke knelt on the beach, curled over himself, shoulders trembling. The sound of his splash as he dove into the ocean broke the quiet of the night. Despite the fire and lightning in his blood, he plunged into the water like he couldn't breathe without it.

Sakura pulled the comforter from her own bed and walked down to the shore.

Sasuke trudged onto the beach. Without meeting her eyes, he accepted her offering. Soaking wet, the blanket comically large around him, for once he looked his age. The water had washed away all his defenses. A tired boy remained.

In his own world, Sakura did not know if he slept well at night, if he ate enough, if he stayed warm. When he accepted her blanket, she shivered in relief. At least in this moment, she ensured he was not cold, and alone.

.

.

Sasuke finally accepted her tea, so Sakura knew it was the last time she would see him.

"You know what this is—why this is happening. At least say that much."

Today, he might understand. Sakura decided to answer. "Yes. I know why this is happening."

"How do you know?"

"I know because you told me."

The crease between his brow softened. Sakura bit her tongue to keep from crying, Don't you see? All this time, it's you I've been waiting for.

"Sakura––" he said. As her name dropped from his mouth, he took a step closer to her own Sasuke.

He slipped away. Sakura's role was over. The rest was his to uncover.

Hime darted down the path. Sakura squinted in the sun. A dark-haired figure bent to scratch the black cat between her ears.

The wind ebbed, and the waves quieted. Even the seabirds were no longer crying.

Sakura rose. She thought she would run to meet him, but her feet were roots anchoring her to the earth. It was all too dreamlike. If he were to turn on his heels and depart down the path, Sakura would not feel a thing. She would keep waiting until she dissolved into sand and seafoam.

Sasuke tilted his head to the sea. "Do you mind if I wash, first? I've come a long way."

A breeze picked up, rustling Sasuke's clothes, lifting Sakura's long hair.

"Take your time," Sakura said. "I'll be here."

Sasuke dropped his belongings where he stood. On the beach he undressed and dipped into the waves.

When enough time passed, Sakura brought him a change of clothes. He emerged from the waves without concealing his bare body, and Sakura did not look away. He dried off and pulled on the fresh clothes. Matching uchiwa fans winked on their backs.

He pulled her close, the spell broken. His skin was damp. Sakura buried her face into his neck. Tears came slowly, then they racked her body. She shuddered with a year's worth of sobs.

Sasuke traced her spine. "I'm sorry, my love," he whispered. "It seems I've kept you waiting again."

When Sakura kissed him, he tasted like salt.

All her waiting was done. She and Sasuke were once more illuminated by the same sun, swimming through the same pool of time.

.

.

In the southernmost tip of Fire country, there was a beach where two rock formations rose from the water. A weathered house perched by the shore, next to a long wooden dock housing a rickety fishing boat.

Seasons did not change in the south, so there were other markers of time––how many repairs Sakura performed on the house, how many seashells Sasuke added to the mantle of the hearth. They trained on the beach every morning, because old habits were hard to break. Tomatoes grew especially well in the loamy soil of their garden.

It was a peaceful life. No one knew where they were. No one was looking for them.

"What are you thinking about?" Sakura asked, sitting on the edge of the dock. A black-tailed gull alighted next to her, peering at their catch of the day.

Sasuke was staring at the blue sky, his long hair tied back. "I haven't slipped in a long time."

"You look a lot like you did, when I first saw you," Sakura said. "It could happen any day now."

"One last trip, then."

Sakura could not say why, but she was certain of this, too.

Sasuke tilted his head back. "The last time Itachi and I saw each other was a day like this."

Sakura watched waves roll under the dock. In a quiet corner of Konoha, a tall stone listed the names of each slain Uchiha. No stone bore Itachi's name. He had no resting place, no marker to commemorate his existence.

Her hands quietly shaped the familiar signs. A column of wood rose up the side of one rock formation. Branches stemmed from the main trunk, sprouting foliage. Like training the limbs of a fruit tree into orderly lines, Sakura twisted and curved the branches into the shape she envisioned.

The image of a raven in flight grew into the rock face, a relief of stone, branch, and greenery. Cliffside sculpture, honoring not six Hokage, but Itachi, and all the souls sacrificed in Konoha's name.

"It suits him," Sasuke said, reaching for her hand. "Do you ever think about the village?"

"Yes," she said. "Every day. I wonder if anything has changed."

To her surprise, Sasuke smiled. There was a familiar glint in his eye.

"You know something. Don't you?"

"I know something," he said, "though it took some time to understand."

He whispered it in Sakura's ear.

.

.

When Sasuke received the Rinnegan, his stomach dropped as if he had skipped a step. On one end of that feeling, he faced a god. On the other end, he was standing on a hilltop, gazing at a Konoha he did not recognize.

The Hokage mountain was a wall of green. Trees grew straight up the cliffside, a vertical forest. Foliage and vines hung like a curtain over the Hokage faces. Here and there, the corner of a mouth, the center of a large eye, a colossal tuft of hair, poked through the vast greenery. Sasuke wouldn't describe many things as beautiful, but the word came to mind.

A dark-haired young woman with glasses joined him on the crest of the hill. She had a delicate chin and a toughness to the bend of her spine. Sasuke remained silent. He could tell, by now, when someone was expecting him.

"We added to the monument," she explained, following his gaze. "It wasn't right to destroy it. It's important to remember. But a lot has changed. This isn't a place that carves faces into cliffs, anymore."

"You're not Sakura," he said.

"No, I'm not."

"Who are you, then?"

"Sarada."

He remembered this name from a dream.

"Uchiha Sarada," she continued.

Sasuke frowned. "Prove it."

Sarada drew in a deep breath. A wave of heat scorched Sasuke's face as she exhaled the signature fireball jutsu of the Uchiha clan. Flames larger than the crowns of trees licked the air, but none of the surrounding grasses were set alight. She possessed a fine control over her chakra that he had only seen in one other person.

The flames receded. "I can activate my Sharingan if you like," Sarada offered, touching a finger to her chin.

"No need," Sasuke said, smiling. Her eyes reminded him of Itachi's. "I see it."

He slipped back to fight alongside his teammates. To shape his future.

.

.

.

.

fin

–––––––––– this story is about two people finding each other. it's about trusting in yourself and in your heart. it's about doing the work to shape the world and the future you want––and at the end the ocean will be waiting.

thank you to: ––theredconversegirl and myr_art whose work first introduced me to the concept of time travel sasusaku ––my partner who spent hours close-reading every sentence so it could become a better story ––my friend di for her endless support and enthusiasm for everything i write ––every single person who has read and ever will read this story. even if you're reading 5 years in the future, please leave a comment so I can thank you for following along this journey with me! (and let me know if the pandemic over yet?) 

and that's it! thank you, thank you, thank you! roya

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 5

And we’re back again with some more Simeon! I still hate every word I write! The past few chapters have been a challenge to slough through, but I hope you still take this humble offering enjoy it.

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10] Pairing: Simeon x Reader   Genre: Smut   Wordcount: 4,300 ish   Tags: Sex toys, smut, femdom, anal toys, oral, pet play, anal Summary:  Simeon presents you a plot twist to his novel that leaves you gobsmacked and surprised, to say the least.

Slide

It became a regular occurrence for you to be working ‘overtime’ during the weekends with Simeon. It wasn’t something you minded. He always seemed to have something he wanted to try and it didn’t seem like he was falling behind in making any deadlines, so you didn’t have any concerns with indulging him in whatever he wanted to do.

On more than one occasion, he let you be in control. There was always a thrill that ran through you when he allowed you to dictate just how the scene would go. Simeon was eager to please and you were more than satisfied with what his tongue and his fingers could do to you. If you wanted anything more than that, he was always happy to please you with one of the many tools at his disposal.

The weeks melded into one another and work was always on your mind. It became a bit problematic considering your other clients also needed your attention. Luckily, with Simeon being so high profile, you were able to transfer the workload to a few new recruits the company had just hired. Though the transition wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do, you were rather attached to all your clients, Simeon’s work took priority above anything else.

The epic spy story he concocted had quickly become quite the project for you to edit. He somehow wove a rather involved story outside of the intense sex scenes. It meant you had to go through his words with a fine toothed comb to ensure there weren’t any inconsistencies. It meant you had to remain impartial and critical of the sex scenes he wrote. Seeing the lewd acts you had done written on paper had a different effect on you than you expected. It made your face burn knowing that your escapades with your client would be immortalized on paper. There was also an excitement about it, being the only people who knew of the source of such lascivious words.

Despite all the sexy rendezvous the two of you had on the regular, Simeon never failed to be the prim and proper author during the regular work week. He went to meetings with the publishing house with you as needed and made appearances for interviews to maintain his relevancy. Not once did he ever put his reputation or his relationship with you at risk while the public eye was on him. It was such an odd dichotomy between his professional self and the version of him that appeared whenever he was alone with you, you sometimes wondered if he was actually two different people.

What you didn’t know was how difficult it was for Simeon to keep everything in check. The more time he spent with you, the more his desires grew and became a dark void within him, swallowing the light he had spent centuries cultivating. He wanted so much more than what he was allowed. He had an internal mantra going at all times, reminding him that what he did was for work, he could never defile you. He respected you too much to drag you down to the dark with him. He was better than that. He was an angel. Your angel.

You always looked forward to the weekends. Simeon always took such good care of you whenever you stayed over. It was a chance for the both of you to unwind, even if it was for ‘work’ purposes. He eventually lost most of his initial shyness and became more vocal about what he wanted. The direction worked well in his favor, helping him write the most detailed sex scenes you had ever read in your entire life. His years of literary experience truly made up for his lack of sexual knowlege whenever he submitted something for you to go over. It was hard to critique the quality of the scene, but you could always find a few missing commas or half finished sentences here and there for him to fix up.

He found pleasure on nearly every surface of his home, save for his bedroom. Something about that room seemed too sacred to breech for him. Not that you really minded, there was more space on the floor and it was easier to bend him over the arm of a couch to help him into his favorite plug. He had taken quite a liking to it, often telling you after a long meeting or interview that he had sat through it with it in him. “It’s good research.” He explained, but you didn’t know how much of that really was for his book and how much of it was for his own pleasure.

So, when he greeted you one weekend, you nearly fainted when you saw him sporting a skin tight sheer body suit, bunny ears and a tail to match.

“What the hell are you thinking?!” You couldn’t make eye contact with him, not when he was dressed like that. “What part of your book has anything to do with … any of this?”

He blinked innocently and smiled, guiding you over to his couch so you could sit down and compose yourself. You heard the front door click closed and the sound of him locking it seemed to be so much louder than usual. It was too bold of him to approach you like this, he had said nothing about a scenario like this, and you were sure there was nothing in his book that would hint at any of the characters dressing in such a manner.

You couldn’t deny he looked absolutely spectacular in that get up, though.

It was surreal watching him saunter back to the living room and casually take a seat across from you, crossing his legs and looking as if he wasn’t dressed up like the definition of insanely provocative. “So, I’m sure you have some questions.”

“I… I can’t figure out where to start asking you,” you admitted, unable to tear your eyes away from how well the body suit hugged his taut muscles and left nothing to the imagination. The fact that the material was completely sheer and you could see how erect his nipples were in the right light didn’t help his case any. The addition of the damn tail and ears made you wonder if he had suddenly changed genres to set his novel in a fantasy setting.

“Well...” he started, placing his hands on his knees and smiling softly. “I needed something to really get readers invested in how evil the villain is. So, I thought, what’s more evil than human experimentation? The villain would start mixing humans with animals and creating sex craved hybrids.” The smile was still plastered onto his face, his eyes crinkled in glee as he explained his plot twist to you. You could barely believe your ears. Not only had he come up with something else you had never seen coming, he willingly put himself in that outfit to get the scenes right.

I can’t tell if he’s a genius or if he’s insane…

Simeon was the latter. Insane with a desire that he couldn’t comprehend. He desired more than what he was given and he kept chasing that high he first felt when he saw you riding his pillow in that sunroom so many weeks ago. Each new experience with you brought out something darker in him. Every time he thought he could stop himself, he found a new excuse to try yet another thing he read about online. He was yours in a way he couldn’t express, until he stumbled upon the idea of becoming your pet.

It was a perfect cover up for fitting the fluffy tail plug into him and donning on the raunchy outfit. He didn’t want to admit how obscene it was on him, but seeing your shocked expression when he greeted you was well worth the discomfort. He belonged to you and you to him in a way that transcended your work contracts. He had no words to describe the feeling of elation, of freedom he got every time he came at your command. What started off as a way to get words on paper soon became an unhinged addition to your touch, your praise and your approval.

He timidly walked over to you on the couch, kneeling in front of you and laid his head on your lap. Simeon looked up at you with wide eyes and the slightest hint of a pout. There was no way you could deny him. Even if you had suspicions about his intentions of becoming an ‘animal’ for the day, his adorable expression whisked your concerns into the ether and you patted his hair gently, earning a hum of happiness from him.

It seemed as though the lamb had found a pet rabbit.

It was easy to dote on Simeon in this manner. If it weren’t for the ears and the tail, you could have pretended it was a quaint afternoon, pampering your loved one. The innate sexual tension that arose from his outfit and his explanation of why he was even dressed like that was nearly suffocating. You could imagine all the innocent things in the world, there was no denying that Simeon was going to push his boundaries in the end for the sake of his novel.

It was bliss to lay his head in your lap, feel your fingers run through his hair and caress his scalp. Simeon crooned in content. He wasn’t sure what sorts of noises rabbits made, so he took a few artistic liberties on that end. He’d figure out the specifics when he got to writing. What mattered at the moment was the feeling of your nails slowly dragging themselves through his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. He didn’t think he’d enjoy being so submissive when he was around you, but you brought a calm in him and it was so relieving to relinquish control of everything.

He sighed softly, feeling himself slip into a light doze from your gentle touches. Every now and then, you would scratch the back of his neck and his whole world would light up when you did. With every passing day he became more attached to you and everything you could give him. He sighed in content, feeling his muscles relax and put more of his weight in your lap.

He didn’t know when he feel asleep, but it was the most peaceful rest he had in a long time. Your warmth and company sent him into a deep and dreamless sleep. All the stress of writing something he was unfamiliar with and the constant vigilance of staving off his own fall had worn him down quite a bit without him realizing it. In your presence though, he was safe to be himself. Simeon. Not an angel, not a renowned author, just Simeon. That safety was oddly the most liberating feeling.

“Did you sleep well, my angel?” you asked when he saw him stir a bit.

“How lon--” You pressed your finger against his lips, hushing him.

“Last time I checked, cute little bunnies don’t speak.” You chided and he snapped awake, remembering where he was, what he was wearing and who he was with.

Simeon straightened up, sitting back and squatting to mimic a bunny’s stance. His arms between his legs extended just slightly to keep his balance. With the change in position, he could feel the plug in his ass shift along with his movements and press further into him. Just that little change was enough to stir his hormones awake as well. He knew before long he’d be aching and wanting some sort of release. The question today was: how would you let him reach it?

It had been a peaceful hour or so while Simeon napped in your lap. It gave you plenty of time to think through what you wanted to do with him. Though he had approached you innocently, you knew that in the end he was supposed to represent a ‘sex crazed’ human-animal hybrid. You felt a twinge of guilt, he had been sleeping so soundly, it was almost a shame that you were about to rile him up into a whimpering mess.

He watched you with wide, apologetic eyes. His lips were turned up in a pout and whatever ‘anger’ you had for his little slip melted away at the sheer adorableness. You leaned over and gave his head a pat, readjusting the ears that had become crooked while he slept. “It’s okay. I’m sure you’ll learn to be a good boy quickly. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded enthusiastically, the pout turning into an enthusiastic smile and he leaned into your touch, cooing softly. You weren’t sure what noises rabbits made, but it seemed appropriate for the scenario. You’d roll with it for the time being.

“Has my precious bunny been taking care of himself?” you asked softly, scratching under his chin and you were rewarded with a heavenly smile filled with mirth and happiness. He let out another coo of content, nodding again at your question. “Good to hear. But I’ll have to check that for myself.”

You lead him to the couch, bending him over the arm and spreading his legs. It was a position you could never get enough of. His ass in the air and his cock hanging between his legs was such a tantalizing image you took every chance you could get to have him like this. You carefully walked around him, dragging your finger across his body as if you were ‘examining’ him. “Mm, my bunny keeps in such good shape. I’m so proud of him.” You praised, giving his ass a firm squeeze.

Simeon gasped, letting out a soft moan which turned into a sigh. He had lost his character for a brief moment when you had complimented him. His heart sang and his ears rang as he played your words over and over again. Your hand suddenly at his rear squeezing it and playing with it sent his barely restrained hormones straight to his dick. You had the delightful privilege of watching his cock twitch and grow, straining against the flimsy see through fabric of the body suit.

The fluffy tail served to be a great little thing to ‘examine.’ You were responsible for the well being of your pet, so it was only natural you were thorough in making sure he was in good health. You took joy in tugging on the plug, making sure it was snugly fit into him. He had grown so fond of being filled recently, you wondered if the tail had been just an excuse for him to get some new toys for himself. With how easy it was to get him hard whenever there was ass play involved, you couldn’t say you would have been surprised if that was the case.

You left his tail alone after a bit, letting his mind rest before you went to ‘examining’ the rest of him. Your hands caressed his inner thighs, your lips following their trail as you kissed them up and down. It was easy to pretend the fabric of the body suit wasn’t even there with how thin it was. You hummed, content to be where you were between his legs and nuzzled his hardened length. You could hear his strangled moan above you as you teased his cock.

“Oh? what’s this?” You asked innocently stroking his shaft and watched in glee as his thighs quivered around you. “Does my bunny need to breed?”  You heard a whimper above you, his hips moving along with the motion of your hand. You didn’t need any words to know what he wanted from you, but it was fun to tease him while he was like this.

You moved him to lay on his back on the couch. You kept his legs spread and his knees drawn up so you had a clear view of both his tail and his cock. Almost instinctively, he had his arms wrapped around the back of his knees to keep his legs in position. You smiled, giving him deep kiss as a reward for doing what you wanted without having to ask. When you pulled away, the debauched look on his face was so sinful, you nearly forgot about your promise to him and had to restrain yourself from sitting on his dick properly.

He was breathless, blushing madly and mewling while you continued to inspect every inch of his body. While it was a shame to ruin such a well made body suit, you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing at it to feel his skin properly. The shredded fabric only made the debased scene all the more sexy to you. Simeon was freely moaning as you nestled yourself between his legs and covered his chest with kisses.

Your fingers toyed with his sensitive nipples and he was keening under your touches. His legs and arms shook in the effort to remain in the position you wanted him to be in. You could see desperate tears forming in the corner of his eyes and you leaned up to kiss them away. He was so close to breaking, you just wanted to see him pushed a little further in this role before you let him have his way with you.

“Don’t cum in my mouth now, okay?” you demanded before you sank between his legs and gave his aching cock a long, slow lick.

The sound that came from him was almost inhuman, to be fair, Simeon had been put under a good bit of distress with how much he had been teased. The build up he had psyched himself up with only added to how great everything felt.

The sound of the body suit being torn away from him echoed in the room as you ripped the fabric away until you had unhindered access to his dripping cock. You made sure to keep your eyes on him while you took him your mouth. He was torn between screwing his eyes shut to hold off his orgasm or keep watching you work him with your mouth. He had never needed to make such a difficult decision before. Eventually he settled on watching you in short bursts before he needed to focus on holding back his load.

He was so beautiful in those moments, writhing and doing his best to follow your commands. There was a distinct feeling of pride that welled in you as you watched him do whatever it took to be a good boy. He truly deserved only the best reward.

So, you redoubled your efforts to give him the best head he had ever experienced. Taking him until he hit the back of your throat, you moaned, relaxing your reflexes until he was fully seated in your mouth.  You took slow breaths through your nose, moaning into his cock and sending him into a full body shudder as you sucked hard. “P-please… please...” he cried from above you, his thighs quivering violently as he held back his climax. “Please.”

You couldn’t fault him for breaking his character. Figuring he had enough torture, you left his cock with a lewd pop, drool and a bit of his precum leaked down the side of your mouth and you made sure he got a good view of you lapping up what you could before wiping it away. “Alright, I think it’s time to properly let my precious bunny breed like he’s meant to, right?”

You kissed him tenderly before pulling away from him just long enough to kick your skirt up and pull down your panties. Your pussy was a wet mess, but you knew he wouldn’t go there. Instead, you got on your knees, bending over and spreading your ass to get a good view of your ass. “Come on, come and get your reward.”

Simeon couldn’t react fast enough. His whole body was moving on instinct as he reached for the nearest bottle of lube to douse all over your spread rear. You shivered a bit as the cold liquid was spread on you. The initial feeling was uncomfortable, but it would still be better than taking his whole cock without any at all. The wet sounds of him covering his cock in the same lube were so filthy, it even had you blushing.

The sounds died off soon enough as the tip of his cock pressed into your ass and you gasped, struggling to adjust to his size with so little preparation. It wasn’t the first time he had taken you in this way in the past weeks, but it was the first time he didn’t bother stretching you out first. He stopped, breaking his character to make sure you were alright before proceeding. Once your breathing evened out and you pushed back into him, he continued to slide every inch of himself into your tight hole.

It was always a mind blowing experience to accept his whole length into you. Even if it would have been better if his cock was in your pussy; you didn’t mind the compromise you had made with him at all. The feeling of being filled with his cock was one you wouldn’t pass up for any reason. The first pass was always the most amazing, especially with how he groaned once he was fully seated in you.

As soon as he was sure you were ready for him, he got to ‘breeding’ you as the sex craved animal he had become. Your hands moved from holding your ass cheeks apart to bracing your body against the ground to keep you steady while he rammed his cock into you over and over. There was nothing left but the carnal desire between the two of you. He growled, leaning over you, getting as much contact as he could while he thrust into you.

You felt his teeth graze your shoulders and your neck, nipping and leaving marks all across your skin as he claimed you. His hands at your hips dug deep into the flesh, leaving large welts where his nails were. He had tossed away the docile bunny act to claim the prize he had worked so hard to obtain. Simeon grunted, feeling himself get close to his climax. After the amazing blowjob you gave him, he knew he wouldn’t last long inside of you.

He grabbed you by your hair, pulling your body up and flush to his own, never losing the brutal pace he had set. You winced at the sudden pain, but a hand snaking around your waist to rub your clit had you forgetting all about it. Simeon was a fast learner. He knew just how to play your body to bring you to a climax in time with his own. At this point, you were not much more than one of his sex toys he owned with how he was using you.

His fingers at your cunt were soon covered in your essence as he rubbed your clit in quick, yet firm circles. His teeth sank into your shoulder as his pace inside of you became erratic and he was rapidly losing what control he had over his body. “Cum… Cumming...” He growled, warning you right before his seed was emptied into you.

“Mine...” you heard him snarl protectively the moment he came.

His hips stilled for a bit as the brunt of his orgasm overcame him. His fingers never stopped working at your pussy, wanting to feel your whole body constrict around his cock. It didn’t take too much more effort on his end. The warmth of his seed filling you was all you needed to go over the edge with him. Your ass clenched around his cock while your pussy was woefully empty. You moaned his name as you came, shaking in his arms as you rode out the high with him.

Simeon stayed still for a bit longer, waiting until both your sensitive bodies felt ready to disconnect from each other. He was careful as he pulled out of your ass. Seeing his seed leak from the tight hole once he fully pulled away was always so satisfying and he wished he had his phone with him to take a picture of just how beautiful you were in the afterglow of such an intense session.

You all but collapsed onto the floor once you were allowed to, your muscles feeling like jelly after he had so mercilessly taken you. You needed a few moments to recollect yourself before retrieving some towels to help clean up the worst of the fluids that covered the two of you. Pulling the tail plug out of him rewarded you with a rather indecent moan from his lips. His whole body convulsed briefly as the thickest part passed his anus and his body sagged in relief once the whole toy was removed.

As soon as he was able to, he crumpled into your arms, demanding cuddles and affection again. “Did I do good?” he asked, looking up at you expectantly.

You laughed good naturedly, taking the ears off his head and tossing them to the side. “I’ve never had a pet like you, for sure.”

“But was I good?”

You smiled, running your fingers through his sweat dampened hair, watching him melt into your embrace while the two of you had a naked cuddle session on his couch. “You were better than good. You were absolutely perfect.” You reassured.

He sighed, resting his head on your bosom and snuggling closer to you. He wrapped his arms around you and clung to you. “Mine...” He declared softly. The sudden statement made your heart skip a beat. You had initially thought he had uttered it while fucking you in the spur of the moment. Hearing him repeat it while he was comfortably wrapped around you held a different weight.

“Mine.” he repeated as he drifted off to sleep in your arms. “All mine.”

As long as you belonged to him, it didn’t seem to matter if he fell all the way to the pits of hell or not. He belonged to you. You belonged to him. All was right in the world.

And once again, the darkness in him grew.

[whitecatindisguise]

Give Him A Chance To Mend

I'm alive, lmao. Took me long enough to update this story, and I hope this want to write is not temporary, and will last unless until I finish it.

Anyway, AO3 link can be found here, and the newest chapter is put under read more, to not spam the dash with long post.

So, enjoy.

Chapter 4: Raise A Little Hell

Varian and Quirin were working in the fields, when it happened. There was no sign, no way to prepare themselves. It took them both by surprise and left them wishing they didn't have to ever deal with it. 

It started innocently. Adira and Hector left for training,while Varian offered to help his father with the harvest. They were nearing lunch break, when the two came back, wearing unrecognisable faces. 

"Aunt Adira? Uncle Hector?" Varian called out to them, confused by their behaviour. He never saw that kind of expression on them, and didn't know what to make of it. 

"Did something happen?" Quirin inquired from a little further, placing a pumpkin on a half-full cart. 

"You could say that." The woman replied, pursing her lips together. 

Varian observed the two and noticed a crunched paper held in his uncle's hand. He cocked his head to the side, wondering what's on it, already figuring out it must be the cause of their off behaviour. 

"Well, neither of us is a mind-reader, so maybe you could tell us what's wrong." Quirin said, putting his arms on his hips. "Unless you want to continue this staring contest."

"Why our nephew has a wanted poster?" Hector asked. Both father and son blinked, not really registering the question. 

"We were training in the woods, when we found this." The man unrolled the paper and a 14-year-old Varian glared at his older self from the poster. Oh…

"We missed one." The alchemist mumbled, more to himself than anyone in particular, but it managed to make Adira and Hector give him a weird look. He chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "I… might have commited treason once?" He said, attempting to make it sound like a joke and failing miserably. It was only partly worth the bewildered faces of his aunt and uncle. 

Quirin sighed and picked up the cart, wheeling it towards the shed. 

"Let's go inside. It's a long story." He said. Hector sputtered. 

"You knew?!" He screamed. 

"Can we talk inside… please?" Varian asked, looking deeply uncomfortable. The two Brotherhood members shared a look and nodded. 

"I expect to be explained everything, nephew." Adira said, as he led them back to the house.

"Oh joy…" They heard his response. 

It took ten more minutes for them to get settled in the kitchen, Quirin insisting he prepare mugs of hot cocoa. For grounding, he said. Neither of his siblings questioned it, but they did exchange confused glances. 

Finally, they all sat down around the kitchen table, Varian picking nervously at his gloves, Ruddiger curled comfortingly around his neck. 

"So… treason?" Adira spoke up. Varian sighed and straightened up, curling his hands around his mug. 

"Let me start from the beginning." He said. Adira nodded, Hector remaining silent but attentive. "Six months after Princess Rapunzel was brought back, and two days after the failed coronation, she and Cass..andra came to Old Corona in search of the great wizard. "He made quotation marks with his hands and put them back around the mug. "which was how people used to call me, since they didn't know anything about alchemy and thought what I was doing was magic. Anyway, the Princess wanted to ask about her hair which magically reappeared, I tried to help but couldn't come up with anything specific. Then her boyfriend arrived, I told him about my water heaters, which were highly unstable back then, and long story short, they blew up and the Princess and her entourage left while I stayed to clean up the mess. Then we met at the Science Expo few weeks later, I asked Cassandra to be my assistant, she agreed but stood me up later, that's not really important and now it seems I'm rambling-"

"Drink some hot cocoa, son." Quirin helpfully suggested. Varian nodded and took a few gulps, exhaled slowly and continued. 

"Anyway, after the expo I showed Princess the black rocks that grew outside the village, and she asked me to research ways to get rid of them, promising we'll get to the bottom of this together. So, in secret and against dad's orders, I've spent next weeks studying those rocks, trying to find anything to make them stop growing, or, better yet, get rid of them entirely. At some point, when the village was almost completely overrun, me and dad travelled to the capital to ask the King for help. I wasn't allowed inside the throne room, but I overheard dad lying about us having a good harvest and needing more land to store all the crops." 

Adira and Hector both looked surprised. 

"Quirin lying?" The woman asked. 

"It was a code." The man quickly explained. "I didn't want everyone to panic about what was happening. My words actually meant we need a place to move to until the situation is taken care of."

"But, of course, I didn't know that, so I lashed out at dad, he lashed out at me, then the Princess came and I told her what's going on and she, yet again, promised to help me once her parents will be back from their anniversary trip, during which she was to act as a Queen." Varian added. "But then everything went downhill. Dad caught me during one of my experiments on the rocks and we had a fight about secrets and such. I didn't notice one of my solutions spilling on the rock, but dad did. He pushed me away and got stuck in amber, me running to the capital to get Princess' help. At the same time, an enormous snowstorm hit, which later I learned was caused my Zhan Tiri herself. Anyway, I managed to get to the castle, but as I begged for help, the Princess refused, saying she had to stay and help the others, and I was thrown out into the storm."

"You were what?!" Hector screamed, standing up abruptly, his chair falling to the floor with a loud clatter. 

"Sit down and drink your cocoa, Hector." Quirin ordered. "You getting angry now won't change what happened."

"And you're fine with this?" The man questioned angrily. 

"I had the same reaction as you did when I found out." The farmer replied calmly. "The matter was resolved long time ago. There is no need to dwell on it."

"They threw a freak-"

"Language."

"A teenager, my nephew, in the middle of the snowstorm!" Hector finished, fuming. "And you expect me to not get mad?!"

"Let Hairstripe finish, Hector." This time it was Adira who spoke. She looked as collected as ever, but Quirin knew her long enough to know she was just as angry as her brother. 

The green-eyed man grumbled, but picked up his chair and sat down, crossing his arms and mumbling under his breath. 

"A-anyway" Varian continued. "I ran back home but I was too late, dad already fully encased in the amber. I worked day and night, trying to find a way to save him. At some point I've found a hidden chest in his room, full of armour pieces, weapons and a piece of the scroll with a drawing of the sundrop, the black rocks and some weird language. Took me some time, but I finally managed to decipher it enough to know the Sundrop might be the way to end all this. Oh, and in the meantime, the King apparently decided I know too much and sent royal guards dressed in masks and coats to make sure I don't tell anyone. The rest of the village moved to the new land long ago, so nobody was around to stop them. I called the Princess to the village, using a lantern with a tied letter, to find the scroll which I hid in my lab. I wanted her to see dad, see why I was doing what I was doing. Then, a week later, I came to the capital to meet her in secret, because somebody spread a rumour I attacked her on the day of the storm and people didn't really like me walking around anymore. I managed to persuade her to sneak into Royal Vault with me and stole the Sundrop Flower. But, it turned out its power was long gone, moved to the Princess instead. So, I devised a new plan. I built an army of automatons, used alchemically-turned monster Ruddiger as a distraction and kidnapped the Queen, all to get the Princess' attention. And, of course, she came, along with the citizens of Corona ready to fight the dangerous alchemist of Old Corona. I made her use her hair to try and free dad, but when that also failed… I snapped. I went total rampage, and even tried to kill Cassandra and the Queen. I was only stopped when the Princess touched the black rocks, which blew up and impaled the automaton I was controlling. I was arrested and the Princess went her merry way, on a journey following the black rocks."

"I've seen the aftermath of the battle before but I didn't realise…" Adira seemed genuinely shocked. "It was you?"

"Turns out being left without adult supervision and having someone promise help and then back out when they start to feel uncomfortable does that to people." Varian shrugged, but they could see he was ashamed of his actions. "Or just to me."

"Is this true?" Hector looked at Quirin for confirmation. The man nodded. 

"The Princess confirmed it." He said. 

"Wait, the Princess went to the Dark Kingdom…" Hector looked like he didn't really want to hear an answer to his question, but he asked anyway. "What happened to you?"

"Prison." Varian replied darkly

[professorlthings]

How Supernatural Gripped Me Tight and Raised Me from Perdition

Happiness in Just Being:

How Supernatural Gripped Me Tight and Raised Me from Perdition

I am a broke college student. What little money I have is often spent on books I don’t technically need, much to the chagrin of my mother, who I have clearly not learned how to budget from. Furthermore, with Supernatural conventions on the 2021 calendar, saving money has really become something I strive to do. Nonetheless, sometimes my budgeting fails.

Trudging through Barnes & Noble one evening, looking for two YA books I’d recently added to my reading list, I walked into a Supernatural display. Now, as mentioned above, I’m a college student with limited funds to my name, but my investment in the Winchester brothers and their angelic ally Castiel had peaked this semester, and I was immediately drawn to one of the books, a volume entitled Family Don’t End With Blood, which had a drawing of the Winchesters standing against their 1967 Impala.

After a brief, agonized contemplation, I bought the book, along with several other pieces of Supernaturalparaphernalia, completely depleting my bank account – this is not hyperbole. Though I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of all the essays people have written in this book about how Supernatural changed their lives, I am conscious of one indisputable truth: it changed mine, too. So, in the spirit of inspiration by the book, here is the story of how Supernatural gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.

I almost died this semester.

No, no. That’s too passive. I almost killed myself this semester. It’s unfair to say “I almost died” as though it wasn’t something completely in my control. Well, both under my control and ridiculously out of my control.

I got low this semester. It’s been a taxing year for everyone, I grant, and I was no exception. I’d fallen into such a bad place that I had taken to cutting myself with the red kitchen knife my mom had given me when I graduated high school. Cutting became a routine, something I would fall back upon. But I eventually stopped. And as I think back to the last evening I ever cut myself, I wonder what stayed my hand, what made me put that knife down.

It wasn’t my friends. Some of use weren’t even talking at this point.

It wasn’t my family. We were in a bad place, too.

It was something about me. Some resolution to keep living, despite every bad thing that had happened to me in the last 12 months.

Two months later, I shrug out of my trench coat, making sure to keep my open button-down on over my grey waffle undershirt, the cold already biting through my heavily layered clothing. My clothing is at this point 75% inspired by the Winchester brothers, from my red, purple, and green striped button-down to my now just broken-in Doc Martens; the other 25% belongs to Castiel, who inspired me to buy this trench coat. And it so happened that America’s Thrift Store had just what I was looking for – for $16.99.

I survey the now almost empty campus of the University of Alabama, oddly empty for the middle of dead week; it seems that most of the students have seen fit to go home, unlike me and my ragtag group of friends, most of whom decided to stay through until the end of finals week. I catch a glimpse of two people walking their dog across the Quad, and they probably notice me as well, sitting on the steps of Gorgas Library, a haunt usually occupied by many students at this time of year.

But, then again, it hasn’t exactly been a normal year, by any standards.

When Quarantine hit and I suddenly found myself back home at my parents’ place, I did what half of the population must have decided to do – I began watching a new TV series. With Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Good Omens already under my belt, the obvious place to go next was Supernatural. I had shockingly written it off as a show of little interest, because it was American, not British. Nonetheless, I didn’t think anything particular about this particular choice; it more just seemed like a natural next step. My younger sister and I began with “Pilot” and stopped somewhere in the middle of season 3, when my sister lost interest in the show. But my journey with Supernatural didn’t end there.

As an English major, I’d been thinking about what I’m going to write my senior thesis on, and I eventually decided to write it on free will in the works of John Milton. And in exploring Miltonic free will in modern media for my directed readings class with my thesis director, Dr. Ainsworth, I found that Supernatural spoke volumes for the research I wanted to conduct for this class. Thus, without hesitation, Dr. Ainsworth and I added Supernatural, seasons 4 and 5, to our syllabus for the course.

I won’t lie, though, this semester got away from me.

I had a fight with one of my best friends and we didn’t talk for weeks.

I was sent to the North Harbor psychiatric facility for the second time this year.

Needless to say, with all of this stacking up on me, school became a less than a priority. My grades started slipping in all my classes, especially in Italian, where, for the first time in three years, my grade dropped from the usual A+ all the way down to a C.

I forgot all about Supernatural, BSing relevant facts about it and free will during my meetings with Dr Ainsworth, barely having a hold on my Milton project at all.

My grades were tanking, and my mental health was slipping out of my control. For the first time in my life, I really didn’t know what to do. I resorted to cutting on the regular, always in the same place, the outside of my wrist. At first, I’d just barely draw blood, but one time – the last time – I cut it so deeply that it wouldn’t stop bleeding. My sweatpants were covered in blood, as was my bathroom floor. That’s when I realized I needed to stop.

It was a resolution. A resolution that I would never cut myself again. I hate making promises, and try to avoid them at all costs, but when I make promises, I keep them. And this is what I promised myself. And it was hard. It was so hard!

Nonetheless, life began looking up.

Lightning struck.

Sometime in the weeks that I was back at my parents’ place in New Mexico, healing, I realized I wanted my essay for Dr. Ainsworth to be a good essay; I wanted it to be lit journal-worthy, hopefully.

That meant I needed to watch seasons 4 and 5 of Supernatural. Which meant I needed to finish season 3 first.

I made a half-hearted attempt to start season 3 back up where we’d left off, but I watched one episode and lost interest, my overtaxed mind refusing to focus on the Winchesters. Besides, Castiel was the relevant character for my essay, not the Winchesters, and he didn’t show up until season 4.

Okay, I thought, I’ll give up the chronological watching and just start season 4. I did. And from then on, I kept watching. At first I watched every episode, but with deadlines for my paper coming up quicker than I was prepared for, I began just watching episodes that Castiel appeared in.

I didn’t stop once I’d finished the relevant seasons, either. The Winchester brothers and Castiel quickly became an integral part of my life – and that’s where this story truly begins.

Once lightning strikes in my soul, it usually means we’re in for the long haul, which in this case means 15 seasons worth of the long haul, culminating in my senior thesis next fall, a project linking John Milton’s Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained with Supernatural. I found the link – love is what gives us free will, and all of the media I was engaging with supported this idea.

Don’t even get me started on how Castiel in season 15 ties into this thesis, but oh my goodness, he does.

In Supernatural, I found more than examples of how the power of love gives individuals free will. I found things relatable to me that I never would have previously been able to relate to, had it not been for this profoundly hellish year.

I found Sam Winchester.

Sam Winchester is not perfect. Sam Winchester has so many faults. Sam Winchester is so profoundly relatable that I count him responsible for saving my life.

How did Sam Winchester inspire me and how does he continue to inspire me? I couldn’t count the ways. But I think the most important thing about Sam was that he taught me I was okay. Broken as I was, Sam taught me that I was not beyond saving – that there was hope that I could still get my life back on track.

One of the key aspects of season 4 is Sam’s addiction to drinking demon blood. I saw myself in Sam; his addiction to demon blood mirrored my addiction to self-harm. On that night I realized I needed to stop, I made a deal with myself that I was never going to pick up a knife again. And I haven’t. Now, whenever I start to feel that I’d be better off dead, or when I tempted to pick up a knife again, I think of Sam Winchester. If for no other reason, I can do it for Sam. As Sam taught me, you can overcome addiction and get your life back on track – even when the addiction makes you feel so good and you suffer withdrawal without it. If Sam Winchester can avoid demon blood, I can avoid cutting myself. And I have. For nearly two months.

Sam continues to encourage me to not lose faith. For instance, when Sam didn’t tell Dean the whole truth about what he was doing, that caused his brother to lose trust in him. Sam didn’t tell Dean that he was drinking demon blood, teaming up with a demon, or any number of other things. Dean flat out tells Sam that he can’t trust him anymore, that their relationship will never be what it once was. And that resounds with my soul in ways so hurtful I wish it didn’t. My oldest sister said she doesn’t trust me anymore, after things I’ve said and not said this year. I see myself in the same situation with her as Sam is with Dean. And it hurts; but at least I have Sam to relate to.

But perhaps most importantly, Sam Winchester tries to do right by the people around him. Sam tries to focus on others rather than himself, and he tries to help whenever he can. I wish I was more like Sam Winchester, and I am eternally grateful to Jared Padalecki for his portrayal of Sam that inspired me to continue on.

Castiel, too, makes me strive for better. And when I say that Castiel’s final speech in 15.18 is the reason I’m as happy as I am, I mean it.

Castiel makes a simple statement: “Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

Preach, Castiel.

Though people may have gripes about season 15 of Supernatural, one thing that kept right until the end was solid character development. Nobody did anything outrageously out of character, and for that I am truly grateful. As could be expected, Supernatural ended in heartache, but also a profound sense of peace – the idea that if you pursue the greater good, as motivated by those you love, you will have a fulfilling life.

I think I finally understand.

Years of depression and anxiety cannot stack up to these few words:

“Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

I’ve finally found my happiness, and I have Supernatural to thank for that.

This essay would be incomplete, however, without a shout-out to Dean Winchester as well. Although I see less of myself in Dean, I admire many traits he possesses. He cares about his family, almost to a fault, and he cares about his friends. While he doesn’t express feelings on the regular, he does in the important moments, and that’s what matters.

Dean Winchester is perhaps a role model I could take, saving people, caring about his family and friends, and living life to the fullest.

Furthermore, Dean is arguably a bisexual icon. I really appreciate both the subtle and blatant ways in which Dean Winchester’s sexuality is portrayed on screen. Though I know not everyone believes that Dean is queer, as a queer person, I find the idea of Dean being a canonically bisexual character in mainstream television exceptionally powerful. So it’s canon to me.

Watching Dean’s death scene in 15.20 nearly broke me. Although a good friend and I tried to get drunk to watch the season 15 finale, alcohol was not enough to prepare me for the emotions I felt watching that one last episode. When Dean died, it genuinely felt like I’d lost a good friend. I cried a lot. Both in the moment and in the days that followed.

But missing things reminds me to be grateful for the fact that these things exist in the first place. Yes, Supernatural may have ended, but we were lucky to have it with us for fifteen years.

Because, after all, “Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

Supernatural taught me that love of friends and family can truly save the world, and that in a world where you can be anything and love anyone, it’s best to be yourself. So here I am.

With this essay drawing to a close and the cold air beginning to freeze my fingers as I type, I have one last thing to say:

I don’t seek acceptance or love or approval from anyone other than myself – I am no one’s but mine – and I now have a new life mantra. Say it with me.

“Happiness isn’t in the having; it’s in just being.”

The fact that an ex-blood junkie, a fallen angel, and a college dropout with six bucks to his name saved my life speaks volumes both to how Supernatural affected me, as well as how bad things had to get to get me to that point. I can look back on this year, everything I did right and everything I did wrong, and one thought rings truer than all the others: Supernatural changed the course of this year – and my life.

Thank you to Lynn Zubernis, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles, and Eric Kripke (among many, many others) for helping me to discover this amazing experience!

[abuttoncalledsmalls]

Take A Giant Step - Chapter 7

Warnings: Alcohol, Anxiety, Language, Panic Attack, PTSD episode, Some Sexual Content

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!OC

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Here is Chapter 7! I have tried my best to handle the subject matter the best as I could with the research I’ve done. As for panic attacks, I am just pulling from my vast experience with those. If you would like to be tagged (or un-tagged) in upcoming chapters, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Shout out, as always, to the AMAZINGLY LOVELY @yespolkadotkitty​ for beta-ing this! Please enjoy. <3

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Banner by @yespolkadotkitty​

The smell of stuffed shells baking permeated throughout my small townhouse. I was making last minute preparations for dinner that evening. Frankie was coming over to my place for the first time. Although we had been together officially for three weeks, I still desperately wanted to impress him. That’s how I ended up spending almost the entire day making his favorite dish from scratch. For anyone else, I would have just gotten the premade pasta shells and salad mix. But for Frankie, he was worth every second of frustration I experienced with that damned pasta maker. Only for him, would I have gladly made cannoli and not have complained when a splash of hot oil hit my wrist. Or at least not too much. 

Frankie didn’t know exactly what I was preparing for dinner, but he kept on insisting that I didn’t need to go to a lot of trouble. That he would have been perfectly happy to share an order of McNuggets as long as we were able to spend time together. I was happy to make a fuss over him, though. 

My kitchen windows were open, letting in the warm August breeze and band music from my local park. My county held their annual Founder’s Day celebration that day. Every year our board of supervisors would hold a huge event to commemorate the 1635 founding of Hallifax. It was an entire production with local businesses, community groups, and most residents. There were bands who played throughout the day, a parade that traveled from the courthouse all the way to the park, and a huge finale in the evening involving a fireworks show. While I found myself rolling my eyes at Founder’s Day, I did enjoy the fact that I lived close enough to the park to see the fireworks from my backyard. I had specifically chosen that evening for Frankie to come over because I wanted to share that experience with him. 

Right at 7:00 PM a knock sounded on my front door. I took the shells out of the oven and placed them onto the counter before I went over to let Frankie in. When I opened the door, he was standing there with a boyish grin on his face. He held his hands behind his back and stepped forward.

“Hey.”

“Hi Frankie.” We stood in a bashful silence for a few seconds. It wasn’t an awkward pause, but one based in slight disbelief. How in the world did I manage to enter into a relationship with this beautiful and warm man? I eventually came back to Earth and moved out of the way to invite him in. When he stepped into the house he took his hands from behind his back to reveal a bountiful bouquet of daisies. 

“I, uh, got these for you. I know they’re your favorite and I, uh, thought you’d like them. I picked the prettiest bunch since you’re the prettiest girl.” My cheeks turned pink as I giggled softly. I brought Frankie in to me and kissed his full lips. When I pulled away his eyes were still closed.

“Thank you so much. They are gorgeous. I’ll put them in some water right now. Make yourself at home.” I went into the kitchen and pulled a vase out from one of the island cabinets. Frankie followed me.

“Something smells really good.”

“I hope you’ve come with an appetite, Mr. Morales. I have made stuffed shells in marinara sauce from scratch and a fresh garden salad with veggies obtained from the farmer’s market. For dessert, a special surprise.” I gave him a flirty wink. He gave a small groan in return and pulled me in for another kiss.

“Mmm. I have a huge appetite. Can we start with dessert?” Frankie began to give my neck little kisses as his hands moved to squeeze my ass. My breath hitched and my hands came up to feel his broad shoulders. If the food had not been ready at that moment, he would have been sitting on my sofa with me straddling his lap. It took every ounce of self control I had to break away.

“You’ve got to eat your vegetables like a good boy before you can get your dessert.” He pouted and gave me puppy dog eyes. “I don’t make the rules, baby. I just enforce them.”

“I’ll be good.”

“Fantastic. Then after dessert, you can be as naughty as you want.” He grinned at me and I gave the dimple on his right cheek a peck. “But we need to start eating soon before the food gets cold.”

We both served ourselves, sat down, and began to eat. I asked how Frankie’s day had been. He spent most of the morning building platforms for our scenic stock. Afterwards, he met his friend Milton for coffee and then held his weekly Facetime chat with Santiago. 

“How’s Santiago doing?”

“He’s good. Just started another consultation job with a new company. He might be coming out here again in the next few months. He said this company has a location just outside of town.”

“That would be great! We could have him over for dinner and you two can hang out.”

“I’d like that.” Frankie paused briefly. “Do you know what the best part of my day was?”

“I really hope it’s not related to any of Jeff’s shenanigans…”

“No, but those are fun. It’s getting to spend an evening with my Maggie May over a delicious dinner she made.” I couldn’t help but sheepishly look down and blush. Frankie started calling me Maggie May just days after we began to date. I’d always been Mags, Mango, Maggot, and the very rare Margaret. But it felt right that I was his Maggie May. When I looked up, he greeted me with a sincere smile.

“Thank you, but it’s not like I’m Gordon Ramsay. I just used my mom’s recipe and chopped up some vegetables. That’s all.”

“I don’t know who that is, but I know you made a better meal than they ever have.”

“You’re really laying the good boy act on thick, aren’t you?” His eyes widened and he feigned shock.

“No. I’m being honest and if that just happens to make me a good boy, then it’s a win-win.”

I chuckled as I rose from my chair and gathered our empty plates to take them to the sink. As I began rinsing them off, I felt two strong arms wrap around my middle. Frankie was gently swaying me from side to side as he rested his head on top of mine. 

“Mmmmm, that feels nice,” I responded. “Maybe I can put a pin in doing the dishes at the moment.” I put down the plate I was scrubbing and removed my green rubber gloves. I turned around and moved in closely to his chest.

“Baby -”

BOOM! BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

All of the sudden, I found myself and Frankie on the floor. His eyes quickly surveyed my kitchen. His breathing quickened.

“What the fuck was that,” he barked.

“I guess they started the fireworks for the celebration at the park already.”

“You knew there were going to be fireworks and you didn’t fucking tell me? Jesus Christ, Maggie!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be an issue-”

“Well it is. Fuck!”

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. My boyfriend was completely pissed off at me for not giving him advanced notice about a fireworks display. I wanted to cry right there, but I couldn’t. Frankie looked like he was about to trigger into a full blown panic attack and it was my fault. 

“Frankie,” I whispered. He looked at me with rage, panic, and helplessness in his eyes.

BOOM! BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

“Frankie,” I repeated.”It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re gonna move to another room, away from the fireworks. Is that okay? I’m gonna stay with you the entire time.” 

He nodded his head like an obedient child. I helped him up and we slowly made our way to my bedroom. It was the area farthest from the fireworks. When we got to the room, I sat him gently down on the bed and shut the door. 

“Lay back, honey. Just like that. I’m going to move across the room and turn the fan on. It’s gonna get a little cooler and a soft whirring noise is going to come on.” I walked over to my tower fan and pressed the on button. The fan’s blue power light blinked on and began to blow out cooler air. I moved back closer to Frankie.

“What can I do to help?” His dark chocolate eyes looked up at me. The anger and fear were leaving them only to be replaced with exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than to hold him and let him know that I didn’t mean to hurt him. I was sorry and I should have let him know ahead of time about the display. I tried to blink back tears. Crying at that moment was not going to help him at all. 

“Maggie, hold me?”

“Of course.” I crawled onto my bed and wrapped my arms around him. He nestled in close, resting his head on my chest. I kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry that I ruined tonight.”

“You didn’t. It was my fault. I wanted to surprise you with the fireworks and I didn’t even stop to think - “

“No. You were just trying to make tonight special and I fucked it up majorly. I haven’t been near an active combat zone in years and this shit still messes with my head. You’ve got to think I’m a nutcase. A grown man who cowers at fucking fireworks and yells at his girlfriend. I don’t blame you if you want to leave. Find someone normal who doesn’t flip out like this. I’ve tried therapy - it doesn’t do shit. I’m just fucked up.”

I could not believe what I was hearing. Did Frankie really believe that someone would throw him aside over a mental illness? Was there somebody in his past that was cruel enough to actually do that? I gently tilted his chin up and looked into his eyes.

“Francisco, I am not going anywhere. I am wild about and care so much for you. I need you to understand that I am here with you for the long haul. I may not completely understand all of what’s going on, but I am one-hundred percent in your corner and will support you in any way that I can. I promise you.”

“Thank you. Maggie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. Can you forgive me?”

“Already forgiven and forgotten.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “The fireworks will continue for another forty minutes. Would playing music or the tv help you?” 

“That would be nice.”

“How about Cheers?” I grabbed my remote, logged onto Hulu, and pressed play. Frankie adjusted his position to that of the little spoon so he could see the television. I didn’t mind being his big spoon that night. I wanted to protect him from all harm - real or perceived - and completely envelop him in my love. Fifteen minutes into the episode, Frankie looked back at me.

“Maggie May?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can we have dessert tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

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

TAGS:

@larakasser​

@absurdthirst​

@yespolkadotkitty​

@fioccodineveautunnale​

@wickedfrsgrl​

@agirllovespasta​

@ah-callie​

[missbasicxxx]

Puppy-sitting Part 4 | Peter Parker imagine

-

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

-

It was quite common for the Avengers compound to get thunderstorms. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows even for the world’s mightiest heroes after all. But no matter how many times they got through it, it was never a delight for Peter. With his heightened senses and constant traumas from his work, loud noises were a pain in the ass. And when it continued throughout the night, he barely got any sleep. 

That was when he was human.

Now, well, let’s just say things were way, way worse.

‘Just close your eyes and everything will be gone, Peter. It’s ok. You just have to fall asleep and that will be it. Just go to sleep.’

Peter told himself as he crawled up into a ball in his bed. Mr. Stark had picked it himself and promised that it would be the best goddamn doggy bed he could find, but he couldn’t feel more vulnerable in it than ever. He wished he could be somewhere hidden, closed, somewhere that would mask out the noises and keep him safe. Somewhere like a closet.

He glanced at your closet right across the room. It was still no use. He can’t open it by himself and he didn’t want to wake you up. What would you think of him? Being scared of a little thunder. Wow, you sure would want to settle with that guy. (Well, technically he wasn’t scared. He just didn’t like loud noises, that’s all...Or at least that’s what he told himself.)

He lifted his head the slightest bit to check if you were still asleep, when a lightening flashed right outside the window and his heart skipped a beat. Surprisingly though, he managed not to faint right then and there but he did let out a sharp yelp which was enough to wake you up. Ironic, Peter thought. You slept through a thunderstorm but woke up the moment you heard his small cry of help. 

“Ermph...You ok, Peter?”

Still half asleep, you rolled over to the side of the bed and let your arm fall down the side to search for him. When you finally found his little body, you immediately sat up and turned on the night stand. 

“Gosh, you’re trembling! What happened? Are you cold? Are you hurt?”

Despite the gush of relief flowing over him when you picked him up onto your own bed, he still felt bad about disturbing your sleep. 

‘I, it’s ok. Just put me in a closet, please. I can sleep on my own.’

After you closely inspected every inch of his body to make sure that he wasn’t hurt, you held him close to you, close enough that he could hear your heart beating.

“Honey, your heart is racing thousand miles an hour. What’s wrong?”

Peter looked up at your eyes and made his best attempt to shake his head. 

‘Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about it.’

But you didn’t seem to buy it. 

You put him down right next to you and turned off the night stand. 

“How about you sleep here tonight, ok? And god, please wake me up when something’s wrong.”

‘It’s really fine...’

Peter’s thoughts drifted away as he melt down under the safety of your covers, your heartbeat filling his ears instead of the storm. The last thought to fade away before he fell asleep was that this was where he wished to be. Just this, forever.

-

Well, it wasn’t long before Peter regretted ever feeling that way.

“Kid!”

You and Peter were both surprised to Tony’s sudden visit to the room. It had been weeks since tony last called for Peter, after they had collected all of the samples they needed for the research, which could only mean one thing.

“Lab, please?”

Peter jumped up from his seat and eagerly followed Tony outside the door. 

‘Did they really find it? Is it possible? No, let’s not get your hopes up, Peter. Mr. Stark didn’t say anything yet. It could just be something like “hey, kid, sorry to tell you this, but you’re stuck like this forever”.’

As soon as they were in the security of the lab, Tony lifted Peter up on a shiny metal table. 

“So, here’s the thing. We found something. We definitely did. I mean, of course we did. Who am I?”

Peter's tail started to wag in hopes of what's to come.

“Hold on a second there, pooch. We still don’t know for sure yet. Strange will turn back the time using the time stone for any spell that you have been affected by, until it reaches a point where it didn’t hit you, which is risky, yes, I know, but it’s our best bet.”

Tony seemed to hesitate for a minute but he continued.

“Well, the worst that could come is that he fails to separate the spell from your body and end up turning your whole body back.”

Peter perked up. That didn’t seem so bad.

“Which means...You’ll have no memory of what happened during the last two months. You will just turn back to Peter, before we even went on the mission.”

That...seemed bad.

He won’t be able to remember anything he had with you. Everything you’ve been through. Yes, it was definitely a risk worth taking. But he couldn’t.

Making up his mind, Peter firmly shook his head.

Tony seemed taken aback.

“Are you sure about this, kid? You don’t want to go back?”

Peter bowed his small puppy head up and down and Tony let out a sigh.

“Why? I know losing your memory sounds scary but it’s worth trying. It may even be a good thing, to forget about everything. Come on, kid, we need Spider-man, not a family pet.”

Peter scratched at the table, looking down at the floor and Tony let him down, shaking his head. 

“Well, we can’t force you into doing it if you don’t want to, but really, kid, weigh out the options here.”

As Tony continued, Peter scurried towards the door to the lab, asking him to open it. Doing as he wished, Tony followed Peter outside the lab and down the hallway until he reached your room. When Peter sat down right outside the door and looked up at Tony, he let out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Is this what this is about, lover boy? When I first assigned you to y/n, I never even thought- ”

Tony stopped in mid-sentence to look into his dark round eyes. 

“Sure, whatever you say, kid. Just remember we’ll be here if you’re ready.”

He opened the door for the small dog and turned around with a smile. 

‘It won’t be long, kid. It won’t be long.’

-

Part 5

-

AN: This series is far from being over! Ok, maybe not far but this isn’t going to be the end. Thanks for reading and all your support. I really enjoy writing this series.

Tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @spideylovin @clara-licht 

-

[wongki]

Question tag

rules: answer 10 questions, tag 10 mutuals to answer 10 questions you write

I was tagged by @lovely-soojin 💗 thank you for tagging me and sorry it took so long for me to answer. ><

1. favorite franchise growing up? i don’t think i have one. not one comes to mind. 2. what is the latest you stayed up and why? i once stayed up for over 36 hours. i had a 15 page research paper to turn in and when i met with my professor she decided what i was doing wasn’t working. and i needed to start from scratch. i had a week and a half to 4 weeks worth of work. i ended up getting an A. so yay me! 3. how did you pick up one of your hobbies? honestly i’ve always wanted to learn a form of art. whether it was learning to play an instrument or learning to draw or paint well.  4. favorite store to shop at? do i have a favorite shop? ummmm i like to spend time in target. lol my friend and i literally drive up, buy caramel popcorn and walk around the store until employees begin to question why we really aren’t shopping. (but yes we buy things we just browse the entire store before actually purchasing what we came for.) 5. whats one thing that scared you as a kid but now you’re no longer scared? the dark. i was terrified of the dark. i wanted the lights to be on until i fell asleep then they could be turned off or else i wouldn’t be able to sleep. 6. if you were famous and are asked to show a hidden talent on a variety show, what would you show? (like voice imitation or flexibility) honestly i am the least talented person. like i have nothing going for me in that aspect. i’m pretty boring.  7. best purchase you’ve made? a small hand held fan i can take with me everywhere. summer is here and i hate it. i gotta stay cool because honestly i don’t i get so annoyed so quick. this is why my parents think i’m very short tempered. (and they might be right).  8. saddest movie you’ve watched? why is the only movie that comes to mind marley and me? but also if they’re crying on screen there’s like a 90% chance i’m crying too. 

9. if you could change your body to have some sort of magical appendage what would you change it to? (like growing wings or making your skin green under certain conditions) oh my god i would love to have wings! even if i couldn’t fly i think that would be so freaking cool. and they don’t even have to be like angel wings. imagine having deep red scaly dragon wings? that would be so cool. 10. are you more scared of the ocean or space? ocean 100%. first of all i can’t swim i’m already at a disadvantage there. also i’m absolutely terrified of sharks. i can’t even seen them on tv or in movies i can’t do it. i’ll have nightmares for week i kid you not. this fear is so irrational that as a kid (and even now if i’m sleep deprived enough) i would scare myself thinking they’d come out of the shower head while i closed my eyes to shampoo my hair. plus the ocean is huge we don’t know what out there. ocean trumps space in terms of fear for me. 

my questions for you:

1. what book would you recommend to me and why? 2. what is a hobby you loved doing as a kid that some may think is dumb? 3.  if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? 4. what movie trope do you think you fit best?  5. what’s a common misconception people have of you? 6. who would be on your dream concert line up? (no limit for the amount of artists. you decide) 7. would you rather be able to travel back in time or would you rather travel to the future but you’d never remember what you saw? 8.  Your house is on fire. You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. What’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? (family and pets are safe so don’t worry) 9. what’s the funniest thing you ever heard said about you? 10.  what one song that without fail WILL make you cry? why?

tagging: @fangirlonmain ~ @theyoungflexer ~ @kihyunsgf ~ @ptg-runaway ~ @ckyunoirs​ ~ @kyunsies​ ~ @bleuatlas​ ~ @doyunhos​ ~ @xphenomenon​ ~ @wachxtriste​

Feel free not to do this if you don’t want to. Or if you’ve done this already. (& if you don’t want me to tag you let me know. ^^)

[zevthejewitch]

Merry woke up feeling rather groggy. It was hot in the apartment though it was relatively cool in front of the fan. Peony had woken him up several times in the night. He was never quite sure why. Perhaps she didn’t understand that he also needed to sleep and that he couldn’t play with her whenever she wanted. For now, though, Peony was resting on her scratching post-turned-bed. Merry looked at his phone and saw the time read 12:30. Not the best, not the worst, he thought. He had been trying to set his sleep schedule earlier for months. And the sad truth was going to bed at 2 am and waking up at 12:30 was earlier than usual. Pippin wasn’t helping in that department. He usually went to bed around 3, 4, or even 5 and would get up whenever. The late night labs certainly contributed to this but Pippin had always been a night owl so it had never bothered him. All in all, probably the one with the healthiest sleep schedule was Peony.

The Men of Minas Tirith (and of most of Middle Earth from what Merry gathered in his limited experience) would wake up at ungodly hours. Merry knew several men and women who boasted of waking up at 5 am. Still he had met a few others who woke up at the unbelievable hour of 3 am. What’s the point of waking up in the middle of the night, Merry thought, you might as well say they’re staying up later than the rest of us. But Merry felt a twinge of guilt for not being like the others. That was a wound that his mother often put salt in. The idea that everybody had their life together more than Merry. Everyone worked harder. Everyone was smarter and more efficient. Only Merry stood out as so particularly inferior. The hobbit shook his head: enough of these thoughts!

He got off the bed and rather regretted it. He felt awful. But he made his way into the living room. Pippin wasn’t on the couch so he didn’t have to be as careful about being quiet. Although it seemed that Pippin could sleep through an earthquake. Merry put some toast in the toaster and looked out the window. The sun was shining its light across the landscape beautifully. It came in at an angle and the reflections and shadows played in the yellow-green leaves. Beyond the tree, his tree, he could see the Fields of Pelennor. There were alternating patches of gold and deep green. Beyond that were the mountains of Mordor. Merry liked to imagine he was looking directly at the trail he and Pippin had climbed the previous week. The mountains now held a more special place in his heart than they already had.

Pop! Merry had a mini heart attack and turned back to his toast. He had originally thought of putting either honey or jam on it, but he realized he was hungrier than that. He set to making some scrambled eggs. “Well that’s unusual,” said a voice suddenly from behind him. Merry let out a yelp. “G-d, Pippin, please don’t sneak up on me like that.” Merry implored. “Oh, sorry,” Pippin said, “I didn’t think about your PTSD. I’ll try to do better next time.” “Thanks,” Merry breathed. “Anyway, what’s so unusual?” he demanded, straightening up. “Oh just that you’re actually cooking something,” Pippin answered. “Pippin, please, I don’t need this right now” “What’s wrong?” “I just...don’t appreciate being reminded I never cook. Like, I know ok” Pippin hadn’t realized he would strike such a raw nerve with his words. He felt bad about startling his friend as well. Merry turned back to his eggs and took them off the stove. “I’m sorry, Merry,” he said earnestly, “I shouldn’t have made fun of you for cooking. I won’t do it again. Can you forgive me?” Merry turned to his friend. “Thanks for apologizing, Pippin. I forgive you. But I just...I need some space right now,” he said, feeling a bit guilty. “Of course!” Pippin replied. Merry figured Pippin wanted to eat soon so he grabbed his toast and eggs and stepped outside onto the balcony.

Merry was mad at himself for being upset. But he was also trying to work on speaking up about things that bothered him and determined that this was just an uncomfortable step of the growing process. And why is everything startling you today, he asked himself exasperatedly. Having PTSD was a pain because he knew he shouldn’t be startled by a thing but he was. His body was on high alert, expecting danger at every turn. Even when as far as he knew he was alone in the house with his close friend and cat. Did I even have any right to criticize Pippin, he thought. After all, he was right, and I’m sure he just thought he was being playful. But he caught himself again: I’m allowed to have feelings even if those feelings inconvenience others. Or, at least, he was pretty sure. Maybe he had heard it somewhere.

Merry put the eggs on his toast and took a bite. He had come across this way of eating toast when he was on a trip to the southernmost point of Harad. This was long before Peony or Pippin were in his life. It was even before Jamie. He was fascinated with the culture of South Harad. He missed the great, spicy food and the kind people. He missed the bright colors everywhere--mostly in the clothes of the women there. At the time, Merry also dressed in those clothes. However, since he was the only hobbit around and one of the few most Haradrim had ever seen he didn’t exactly blend in as hoped. He came across eggs and toast on the grounds of a palace (more of a large house really) in a small but influential city just inland behind the mountains. The city had once been the home of one of the greatest fighters and leaders in all of South Harad’s history.

It had been awhile since Merry had thought much about his trip to Harad. He had spent about three months there years ago. He hoped to go back there again. As his real self. And maybe with a friend. Merry finished his breakfast and looked out again. He saw the banner of Gondor fluttering in the breeze on a lower wall. It had a white tree with stars and a crown surrounding it against a dark blue background. In the distance, thankfully not directly below him, he could hear shouts and the quiet whirr of cars as they drove past. Sounds that the city was very much alive and awake this afternoon. And he could hear that blasted ice cream truck again. How many times?? How many times must it circle the block, Merry lamented desperately. He had really had enough of this and determined to go back inside at least to put his plate away.

Merry turned around to see Peony standing at attention in front of the balcony door. He stealthily slid by her, not allowing her to escape, and put his plate away. Pippin was playing a video game in his room. He was sitting on the floor in front of his bed facing the door. He found video games were a good way to not think of much of anything and with his anxiety, that was a true blessing. “Dammit!” Merry heard him shout from the next room. Merry didn’t know the first thing about video games. His parents had never bought any for him and when he did occasionally play one, he felt dizzy and didn’t much see the point of them. But as a result he did feel like he was lacking a useful, fun coping strategy that all his friends and acquaintances his age used. And so he felt left out if it ever came up--though it was not something he’d ever bother anyone else with.

It was getting on towards 1:30 and Merry realized he needed to be at Boromir’s office by 2. The boy dashed into his room, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and made sure Peony had enough food and water for the day. Then he knocked on his friend’s door. “Yeah? Come in” Pippin called.

“I’m just heading out now to do some research for Boromir. I’ll see you tonight”

“Ok, have a good time!”

“Thanks, love you”

“Love you too”

Merry smiled, closed the door behind him, and made his way out the front door.

The University campus was at the highest point of the city. One could walk it, but it was far easier and faster to take the gondola. Merry went down the side street, turned onto the main thoroughfare and came to the gondola’s green line station. There was a decent sized line ahead of him, but the cable cars came so quickly and continuously he knew he wouldn’t be waiting long. This gondola line went from his neighborhood to the University. Because of the convenience, many graduate students and even a number of the younger professors lived in the area.

Boromir was in his office. He was very absorbed in reading and responding to his letters. He also needed to finish preparing for the classes he was teaching the next week. He had quite forgotten that Merry was coming to the office to help him this afternoon. And that evening he needed to go to the opening of his brother, Faramir’s, art exhibit and support him. He knew their father certainly wouldn’t show up, but it seemed really important to Faramir to have his family’s support. Boromir understood the feeling. Since their mother left they had continually sought to gain acceptance from their father who was typically too busy with matters of the State as he was the Steward of Gondor. Growing up as the Steward’s son had its own host of challenges. Boromir always felt like he was being watched and that his worth was being redetermined anew every day. As such, he had turned into a perfectionist and a workaholic. He took on too many projects and faculty responsibilities. He was the youngest ever chair of the Humanities Department--something his father Denethor was exceedingly proud of and boasted of whenever he got the chance. But if Boromir was really being honest, the pressure of being Chair on top of teaching three classes and the expectation to continue writing his own book was too much to handle.

Faramir on the other hand could never seem to live up to his father’s expectations. He had tried to study law for many years, but he found the work soul-crushing, and he had never enjoyed reading or writing to start with. No, Faramir’s love was with brush and canvas. And with many other supplies. He specialized in collages and his art had been displayed at institutions and art museums all across Gondor. But Denethor had very little patience or care for the arts (something evident in the city’s lack of arts funding) and so he had never approved of Faramir’s occupation.

A knock came at the door. Who on Middle Earth could that be? Better not be some wizard giving me a hard time. “It’s open,” Boromir called, sounding nonplussed. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” At the door stood Merry dressed in a white shirt with a yellow vest, brown pants, and a green cape. Boromir was relieved to see his pupil. “Ah Merry! Do come in, I’m so glad you’re here. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, they gave me some medicine to help with the pain in the meantime while they try to figure out what’s wrong.”

Boromir gave him a concerned look. “Well I hope they figure it out soon”

“I’m supposed to meet with a doctor in two days so hopefully that will help”

“Good, good,” Boromir hesitated. “Are you sure you’re feeling up for work today?” “Yes, I’ll be alright I think,” said Merry, trying to sound reassuring. “Would you mind rewriting the responses to these letters? I’m afraid my poor handwriting won’t be good enough. I’ll look over them when you’re done but I’m sure they’ll be fine.” “Sure,” Merry responded. He always enjoyed getting to write with a quill pen. The hobbit took off his cloak and hung it by the door.

Merry found Boromir’s office to be peaceful and loved spending time there. There was a fireplace behind one of the desks, some large, definitely-not-hobbit-sized chairs, and another, larger desk that for whatever reason Boromir used less. There was a wide, slightly bumped out window across from the door. Merry left a cushion in Boromir’s office for sitting on the desk chair so he could reach everything--everything but the ground anyway. Really! There ought to be some hobbit-sized chairs at this school, Merry thought. He had grown used to Boromir’s sketchy handwriting and was more than comfortable transcribing it out in his more legible hand. Secretly, Merry was grateful that he wasn’t being asked to do something more cerebral as the pain had been a bit touch and go all day.

Boromir paced around the room a bit as he often did, muttering inaudibly to himself. Occasionally he would go back over to the larger desk and write something down with a pencil. After about an hour, Merry finished the letters. He took a brief break and then returned to see what else Boromir needed. The Man asked him to do some research on Westron scholars across Middle Earth. Merry had brought his own laptop and began to make a spreadsheet of all he could find. There were many more than he had imagined. Most in Gondor, Mordor, and Rohan but a few in places as far as Harlindon, the Misty Mountains, and Harad. Merry meticulously made sure to include scholars from more far afield regions as he wanted to make sure they were represented. As one of the few hobbits in the University, he understood feeling alone or like people like him were not appreciated. He hoped to find an (out) trans scholar but alas he was now alone in that too. After an hour or so Boromir left to go to a meeting. When he returned Merry was still hard at work on the spreadsheet. Finally around 6 o’ clock, it was time for Merry to be done for the day. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Merry asked. Boromir continued to be lost in thought. “Professor Boromir?” Merry tried again. “What? Oh look at that, it's already 6!” he exclaimed suddenly, “you know my brother’s art exhibit opening is now, would you like to come?” Merry was a fan of visual art. But he also remembered he needed to eat.

“I’d love to, but I haven’t eaten dinner yet”

“I believe there’s food there if you like but I understand completely if you need to go”

“Oh, actually that sounds alright then”

“Great!”

“I didn’t know your brother was an artist!” I didn’t know you had a brother at all, he thought. Merry donned his cloak and the two made their way down the outdoor corridor. The floor was of red brick and to their right was a green moss lawn. Smooth, white columns with swirled capitals flanked their right side, opposite the building’s outer wall.