#went to an eye appointment this year and it went fine except i feel like they fucked my shit because ive been feeling blind ever since

[peachcitt]

every eye exam ive ever been to has been the most embarrassing moment of my life. i have this thing where i believe everything im doing is wrong the moment i walk in despite going to eye appointments consistently since 8 years old. what do you mean you changed the slide to just one letter whose gargantuan width fills the whole screen after i hesitantly read a single letter from a list of three huge letters on the screen. <- he means i can’t see. (i still couldn’t read the gargantuan letter)

[steddieas-shegoes]

oh, that's why

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is showing up when someone doesn't ask'

rated t | 1,533 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, realizing feelings, love confessions, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Eddie was nervous.

He hadn't bothered mentioning Corroded Coffin's first show back to anyone except Wayne, didn't want anyone he knew to see him stumble over chords and lyrics with nerves he'd never had before Vecna. The guys didn't really say anything, but they'd casually suggested some slower songs mixed in to give him a break during the set. They just seemed to know that he didn't have the stamina anymore.

It's not like the Hideout was Madison Square Garden, but news had spread amongst the locals about Eddie's return to the stage and people must have gotten curious. The bar was busier than Eddie'd ever seen it, people lined up against the tiny stage and filling the tables spread out around the room. Every stool at the bar was filled, the door constantly opening to welcome someone new with a chilly breeze from the fall air.

"Hey, man. You ready?" Gareth's hand on his shoulder was meant to be comforting, but all it did was remind him of how much everyone in the crowd probably wanted to watch him fail.

"Yep," Eddie breathed out.

It was fine. This would just be another show, maybe not the best they've ever had, but they did fine during practice. He was fine.

There was no announcement for them, there never was. The bar owner and the main bartender pretty much only invited them back because the regulars would order double the amount of drinks when they performed.

The lights were already dimmed in the bar, and the spotlight stayed on on the stage all night.

It wasn't anything special, but it still felt like a step towards more.

The crowd was loud, and barely paid them any attention during Jeff's introduction.

They started playing Master of Puppets, a shorter version without the solo since Eddie still struggled getting through it without having a panic attack. It was part of "reclaiming his trauma" or whatever the government appointed therapist told him on his second and final visit.

He took the first minute to really look out at the crowd, passed the obnoxious spotlight.

Most of the people were unrecognizable, dressed a lot like Wayne, but lacked the friendly smile he gave him when he managed to make it to his shows. He saw a few people he knew from his first two senior years hanging by the back, probably trying not to be noticed by him.

And then he saw him.

Steve.

His fingers skipped over the strings, missing a note and then two, though only his band and maybe the bartender would notice.

Steve smiled back at him, mouthed 'lookin' good', and gave him a thumbs up.

How did Steve even know about this? None of the other guys had told him, he begged them not to, made them pinky swear that they wouldn't invite anyone they knew for the first show.

Eddie smiled back at him still, happy that Steve was here, realizing now that a friendly face was the only way he would get through this set. He should have told them all.

Most of the set went surprisingly well, and most of the crowd seemed content to watch and sing along. Only a few people walked out when they realized it was mostly metal music, but he figured they weren't really there for any music at all. Watching the freak was the only entertainment a lot of people had in this town.

Steve was nodding his head, nursing the same beer for the entire hour they were on stage, smiling every time Eddie made eye contact with him. He seemed to be enjoying it, despite his usual refusal to listen to any of Eddie's music.

When they got off the stage, Eddie rushed to Steve, not even bothering to put his guitar back in its case first. Most of the crowd had gone outside or settled around the bar anyway, so his sweetheart would be safe.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie bounced on his toes, adrenaline pumping after a successful show. "I didn't tell anyone about this."

"Wayne mentioned it by accident. He assumed you'd asked me to come," Steve shrugged. He didn't seem hurt about not being invited, thankfully, but Eddie still felt guilt bully its way into his chest.

"Sorry. I just wanted to get the first one done before I had anyone here," Eddie nudged his hand. "But thanks for coming. I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad I did too. I'll always be here if you need me, Eds."

It sounded serious, less like what friends do and more like what love does.

"How do you always know what I need?" Eddie couldn't help asking. "It's like I think I'm fine, but then you're there with a glass of water because I haven't remembered to drink all day. Or like tonight, when I thought I could do it on my own, but played much better because you were here."

"I just know you," Steve smiled.

"Wait," Eddie started thinking back to all the times Steve was there. All the times he would show up at the trailer after work to make dinner, not knowing that Eddie had been feeling lonely. All the times he sat next to him on the couch while he planned out Hellfire campaigns because he needed someone to bounce ideas off of who wouldn't be involved. All the times he had to brave the general public and Steve always managed to find a reason to be right by his side, silently protective. "Wait."

"I'm waiting," Steve said. And was he sounding smug? What was that smile on his face? "How long am I supposed to wait?"

"I didn't ask you to be here."

"That's true. You didn't even tell me you'd be here."

"I never ask you to come over. Or go places with me. Or anything."

"You do sometimes," Steve argued.

"Wait."

Steve's lips pinched together, but a smirk was starting to tease its way onto his face.

"You're here because you want to be. Because you knew I'd be a mess and would actually want someone here even though I didn't tell anyone. Because you're always there when I need someone even when I don't admit I do. Because you care about me."

"Love, actually."

Eddie stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"You said I care about you. Duh, of course I do. But I actually love you."

"Like...the way you love Robin?"

"No. Like the way I thought I loved Nancy. But with you it's more. It's way more, Eds."

Eddie was grateful for the dim lighting and Jeff's sudden appearance by his shoulder.

"Eddie! We fuckin' nailed it! I signed an autograph for a girl who knows my name!" He yelled before he noticed Steve. "Oh, hey Steve. Enjoy the show?"

"You all did great, man. Glad you're back out there," Steve reached out to grab his shoulder, a friendly gesture that Jeff wasn't expecting judging by his face. "Need any help loading up?"

"Uh. No. I was actually gonna let Eddie know Gareth's dad came by to help bring all our stuff home so we don't need his van." Jeff gave them both a knowing look, then smacked Eddie's shoulder and smiled. "See you tomorrow!"

Eddie waved at him, still in shock from everything Steve had said before Jeff interrupted.

"You should probably put her in her case, Eds," Steve gestured to the guitar still slung across his back. "People aren't that careful in a bar."

"Wait."

"You've said that a lot tonight."

"Because I'm having a stroke or something. I'm having a very lucid dream. Or maybe I got too high." Eddie shook his head and pinched his own arm. "You love me."

"That's what I said, yeah."

"And you meant it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

Eddie still felt like he might be dreaming, but he decided to lean into it. If Steve loved him, then that meant-

"Wait."

"Oh my God," Steve groaned, but he was smiling. "What now?"

"I love you, too."

"Yeah? You just figure that out?" Steve definitely sounded smug now.

"Yes! I thought I just had this stupid crush on my straight friend. Sorry I didn't realize the way my stomach does cartwheels when you're next to me meant I loved you!"

They both started laughing.

"So, that's why you were staring at me like that at the pool," Steve finally said through his laughter.

"And that's why you asked me to read to you when you had a migraine," Eddie crossed his arms across his chest to avoid doing what he really wanted to do: pull Steve into the most John Hughes-esque first kiss ever.

"We should probably get out of here," Steve said when he recognized Eddie's twitching fingers fighting to not reach out. "Don't think anyone here would like it too much if I made out with you next to the bar."

"Give me two minutes. I'll meet you outside."

Their actual first kiss was just as John Hughes-esque, but it was in the privacy of Eddie's bedroom, and immediately followed by Steve pushing him against his own door and dropping to his knees.

[mirdance]

Hysteria

Dottore x f!Patient

Kinktober: Medical play, overstim, toys

TW: medical malpractice, chronic pain, vibes of self harm

The metal creaked as I carefully lifted myself onto the chill medical table. I rubbed my arms and held my elbows.  My hairs stood at alert.

The pictures on the wall were always the same grassy hills I’d never had the pleasure of visiting. I stared at one as if meditating on a single blade of grass would push away the ache in my joints.

Salad and Biryani for lunch. Fish with cream sauce and a potato boat for dinner.  I’d been too tired to remember the menu each day even though our nutrition regimen remained stable, so I kept a food calendar on my desk.  I ran the list over and over in my head like a memory game. Sometimes I remembered to update it at the end of the week. Years ago I could remember things like my best childhood friend or what I went into a room to grab. Now I do good to crawl out of bed, bones popping with each step. The doctor always states that the most important thing is rest, but my knees stayed restless through sleep.

As if I could stay asleep with the amount of appointments and noise, anyway.

I could walk. That was good. Many lost the ability to use their legs. For me, it was just my arms. Just my arms. I could still go and see and take myself to the bathroom. Yet what was I supposed to do once anywhere? Books fell from my grasp, spoons unsteady. I held them, anyway, in exchange for the swelling throbs that squeezed the life out of every nerve within my upper limbs.

I could live. The catch was living in pain. So what was the point of living at all?

One of the scabs on my arms oozed between my fingertips. I stopped the anxious rubbing and cursed.

Two knocks on the door. I sat straighter.

“Good day. Sorry to keep you waiting. How are you today?” The depth of his voice rang through the metal table.

“Fine.” The small talk ropes pulled my voice box. Get through the appointment. Get through the appointment.

Except Doctor Dottore wasn’t a fan of weather talk.

“Well, you wouldn’t be here if you were fine,” he deadpanned. For some medical staff, it could count for a joke. With Dottore, I was never sure. “Now, you know how I dislike pattering and conversation with no sustenance,” he went on as he took a seat. “I can’t help you when you do that. How are you? How is your pain?”

I shrugged, which upon doing the action I realized how childish that sort of response would look. The man made me feel as if I were a scarab. “It has been better but it has been worse.”

“I see. Your temperature has been stable the past week.” He flipped a page in his journal. “But it seems your food intake has gone down. Any reason for that?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” Every day felt like slogging through the mud. How was I supposed to count every crumb? “I guess I just feel full faster.”

His pen clunked. “Any stomach pains? Bloating? Constipation?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Have you had anxious thoughts? Getting along with everyone at home?” 

My eyes jumped to his for the first time.  They held not a hint of mirth. “I mean, I get along just fine. I’m sure you see me around.”

“I do.” He pointed his pen my way. “But I’m asking you.”

“I do get along with everyone.” My feet swung and tapped the table. Showing any sort of mental breakdown could result in an even busier day or worse, therapy. No, they didn’t put one in solitary confinement unless there was harm to another person. But they’d certainly be keeping a greater eye out. And I liked taking a shit in private. “I’m just more tired than usual.”

“Are the pains keeping you up at night?”

I took a deep breath. “A bit. Sometimes.” There was no use lying about it, he’d probably see the scabs, anyway.

“Hm. And you were practically scab free one week ago.” His eyes scanned the notes in his lap during an uncomfortable lingering silence.

Doctor Dottore did not care for decorum. He would ramble or stay silent for as exactly long as he needed. While the rambling was much to keep up with, at least I could pick out a few words rather than having to pick his brain.

He stood and straightened the cuffs on his lab coat. “Hold out your arms, please.”

I did so, and the scabs shined and cooled in the air.

“You must stop picking them,” he muttered as he held one arm in his grasp and had me do a few hand exercises. His hands were fucking freezing. He struck my elbow with his irritating hammer.

I jumped.

 “Your face contorted in pain just now,” he commented, feeling and pressing and squeezing my muscles and joints. “Noticeable inflammation. Do you feel this?”

He lightly tapped each of my fingers. I nodded each time. He repeated doing so up and down both arms.

“How about your legs?” He struck my knees one at a time, causing each to kick forward. “Any cysts?”

“Just a scab behind my knee.” I pointed. “It kinda numbs the leg at night.”

He lifted my calf and studied the scab. “Have you had them on your leg before?”

“Rarely. They usually heal up quickly.”

“Fascinating.”

Fascinating?

“When do you usually break out on your legs?”

“My, uh, my period.” He was a doctor so discussing such anatomical diversities was normal, but with him holding my leg in the air, I didn’t really know whether to laugh or feel gross.

“Perhaps hormones play a role in your stability.” He continued analyzing the scab a moment before setting my leg down. “Do you mind if I take a closer look?”

I consented. He pulled on a pair of gloves and knelt. His head leaned mere inches from the table. Had his hair always been so blue? Maybe the man was greying after spending time in the desert.

He pulled out a stirrup. I put my foot in and let him pull and tug around the scab. His fingers were merciless yet gentle enough not to break the skin. Why would he check the leg scab first? When there were enough arm ones to frighten a military?

“I won’t remove it since it should heal as your cycle moves forward, but if you have any trouble with it, come back to the office.”

He helped me settle my leg back down and immediately dabbed my arm with wipes. It stung a slight bit, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Kind of like scratching a place I couldn’t reach.

“Your shoulders are extremely tense.” He squeezed one to prove the point. “You know this doesn’t help your condition.”

“Probably just the stress,” I mumbled. “Just a little more than usual. It happens.”

For the first time, a look of concern robbed his brows. Or maybe it was irritation at hindering his research on the disease. Mental health was not as easy to control as inflammation or diet. And when inflammation was caused by mental health, it created more layers. I was frustrated with it at least.

“Stress often doesn’t just happen.” He sighed and let go of my shoulder. “Have you tried your meditation techniques? Stretches? Walks?”

He went on with the interrogation. I answered each truthfully. Despite the pain, I went through most days doing my duties. What else could I do?

“Maybe it’s time you spent on something…more leisurely, like a hobby.” He crossed his arms. “You do have those, don’t you?”

When was I going to have time to figure out my fucking hobbies? “I enjoy reading.”

“Well, we’ve plenty of books. Do you need more?”

“Maybe.” I didn’t know. I just wanted the pain to stop.

“I will order you some more.” He reached into one of the cabinets. “For now, I suggest you massage your shoulders nightly to loosen those muscles. You might try it on your leg as well if it is disrupting your sleep.”

How would I massage myself if I couldn’t even use my hands most days? Laughable.

Buzzing. Whatever mechanism Dottore held whirred to life. He held what seemed to be a handle and pointed the flat end towards me.

“Use this so that you do not tire your hands. Though I suggest having a friend help."

As he set the device in my hand, the skin on my palms tingled. I stared blankly at him. Was I supposed to just put it on my shoulder? I awkwardly set it against my shoulder. My skull reverberated. I quickly dropped the thing, causing it to clatter to the floor and shake violently.

The doctor tsked and knelt to pick it up. Though his brows furrowed, he held the glint of a smile, almost a fondness for whatever the thing was. “This must be the first time you’ve ever encountered such a contraption. The medical community has been using such devices for generations now, though their origins are…a tad deviant.”

I had no desire to place anything deviant upon my body. While many patients had it worse being subject to the Good Doctor, I remained satisfied with flying just under his radar.

“Nothing that will harm, I assure you.” He clicked one of the buttons. The massager slowed. “Allow me to show you.”

He placed it against my shoulder and applied a small amount of weight. The muscle ached but in such a way that it loosened. I leaned my neck to the side and closed my eyes with a sigh.

“That good?” Dottore questioned.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He moved to the other shoulder. Before long we tested it directly on the scabs, but the vibrations only caused pain. The surrounding muscles carried the most pain relief. Not that it took away the pain, but anything was better than nothing.

I stretched my arms out as he moved on to do my calf. Everything felt light. He lifted my leg and let the vibrations take over. A groan slipped from my lips. I quickly apologized. 

“No need.” Dottore stood and mechanically worked on my thigh. “Such things are also part of my job as a doctor. I’ve seen and heard it all.”

My eardrums rang. The core of my stomach turned inside out and settled hot in my abdomen. The movements shook the entirety of my thigh…I clenched my jaw to bear with the straight fire that coursed through my groin and averted my gaze.

“Is this painful,” he asked. He pulled it off the leg a tad.

“Nope,” I quickly barked. “Just fine.”

Gods, my cheeks boiled.

He cocked a brow. “Hm. I see.”

He continued his assault. I did my best to remain calm.

“Did you know.” He moved the massager higher up my inner thigh. “That vibrators were invented by doctors to treat female hysteria?”

I lightly shook my head, but the doctor seemed so lost in his own mind anyway. His free hand gestured wildly as he spewed names and dates I could not recognize.

“Physicians would often administer pelvic massages involving clitoral stimulation. Studies show that staff never considered it something erotic. At the time, only penetrative copulation was seen as the way to provide sexual arousal. Spas all across the world began adapting the vibrator into their treatments. Water therapy was also used but was hardly as efficient. Patients would flush and grow hot, so why wouldn’t they think that perhaps one were sweating off a fever? Of course, now we know about clitoral orgasms.”

The vibrator hovered over the exact area he spoke of. I held my breath.

“Which,” he continued. “If you were to use the device for such actions, it would most likely greatly impact your mental health, and no one here would reprimand you for it.”   

I exhaled shakily. How long had it been since I’d touched myself? Occasionally I’d attempt, but sharp pains would stab throughout my fingers and joints as if a fork were dragged across every nerve.

I would definitely use this in the privacy of my own room, I decided.

“I don’t suggest holding it for too long.” He applied the barest amount of pressure. “Though theses were created to rest the exhausted hands of doctors, I am afraid if you grip something too long in your condition, the repetitive motion might trigger more pain.”

While I wasn’t born yesterday, the stoic calmness that Dottore’s demeanor held starkly contrasted with the teasing push of his hands. Was he waiting for me to make the next move? The doctor never cared before for ethics, so why did he pause just before administrating the rest?

His knuckles brushed my inner thigh as he repositioned.  Every muscle I’d tensed fell to pieces; my thighs quivered. “I’d never known that history. But it makes sense. I suppose there’s multiple…uses for these.”

“Indeed.” Another press. “Would you like for me to continue helping you figure them out?”

While not touching the skin directly, the vibrations settled over my clothes and guided the seam against my slit. It stung. It burned. It throbbed. I needed more.

I guided my hand around the doctor’s and pressed the vibrator flush with my cunt.

That was all he needed to flash a pearly white fang and a low chuckle. “This is also my duty as a doctor, so I do not mind. Tell me if you experience any pain or release of pain or anything out of the ordinary.”

I shrieked. Whatever setting the man had turned it to whizzed and rang around the room and doubled my entire body over. My forehead crashed into the doctor, and the flood of fire that shot through my vulva multiplied as he kept the head firmly pressed. It engulfed and seized the entire lower half of my body with pulses that squeezed the life out of my clit.

I came? I came. That was an orgasm. My hands trembled and held onto his collar. My head felt as if I had drank three glasses of wine one after the other.

Another round of fire bubbled within my nerves.

I gripped his shoulders. “Do..doctor please, fuck, gods, I can’t, it’s a lot, shit.”

His lips calmly shushed me. “Good girl. Thank you for telling me how you feel. But I believe you can do more, yes?”

Could I?

“Okay,” I whined. My head thudded against his chest. Hot tears threatened the corners of my eyes.

“How is this?”

The buzzing grew louder.

I screamed.

The screaming did not stop until my second high settled into a wet throb. I sobbed into his coat as snot dribbled down my chin. He lowered the vibrations. The change of speed made my legs kick forward, and they clutched around his waist instinctively. The action pressed him and the device harder into me. I groaned and bit the lapel of his coat as I grinded. I needed more I didn’t need more I needed it I needed it

“How is your pain,” Dottore asked in a whisper that lingered in my ear.

Pain?

Oh.

For a few seconds, I’d completely forgotten.

The pull of Dottore’s lips that morphed to a grin heated against my earlobe. “It seems the experiment was a success. Please, do use the treatment wisely. If it is ever too strenuous on you, come see me, and I will treat you very well.”

[romanestuffsposts]

Hi! If you have the time, could write one where Stuckys little has to have her wisdom teeth removed. I just went in to have mine done now everything hurts. Thank you for how consistently you post, it helps a lot.

Hi there love!

I hope you're fine after that experience, I'm so scared to have them removed- like really scared. I hope I won't have to 🤞

I really try to post whenever I can do it, I hate making you wait! I’m so glad it help you, love. That’s why I started this blog ❤️

****

Warnings : angst little reader, caring daddies, dentists, teeth removed, cries, cuddles, fluff

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : you were scared to have your wisdom teeth removed and your daddies reassure you before and take care of you afterwards ❤️

****

‘’It’s okay, princess’’ your Papa says as he slides his fingers down your hair ‘’it’s scary, we know that. But it’s really important. You know we won’t make you go through that if it wasn’t important, sweetie’’ he tries to reassure you as the tears keep falling down your cheeks.

You whine and you shake your head ‘´no papa pwease’’ you cry ‘’It hut, I don wanna’’ you hold tighter your Daddy, hoping to disappear in his body so you’ll miss your appointment.

You hear your Papa sighs and feel your Daddy's hands slowly caressing your back up and down as you cry in his neck. It really scares you, you hate hospitals and you hate doctors, except Bruce. But of course he isn't here when you need him so your Daddies are taking you in another dentist center

And you're scared because you don't know anyone there and you're scared to be in pain. You know it'll hurt, and you don't want it

"baby" you hear your Daddy saying. You sniff and slowly pull your head away from his neck. You look up at him and see his soft eyes looking down at you. He strokes your cheeks, trying to comfort you and drying them at the same time.

"You're right," he says "it's really scary, I would be scared too if I was in your situation" he says causing Steve to glare at him "but, you have two Daddies here," he points at Steve and himself "who will be holding your hands the whole time and who'll comfort you for at least two years after you make it through the little surgery"

You sniff and look at your Papa "it true ?" you ask him and he nods "of course it's the truth, honey. We'll take care of you the whole time during and after, you'll be perfectly fine, we'll make sure of that"

"and after, when you'll feel better and when you'll be able too, we'll take you out, we'll go eating ice creams and we'll go to the parc, we'll do everything you want" your Daddy says, sliding his hands down your back again

You sniff and even though you don't want, you still nod. Maybe it'll worth it. If you do it and if you have what your Daddies had promised you, then maybe it worth it.

Your Daddy smiles down at you and kisses your forehead "thank you, beautiful" he says against it "you're so strong"

He turns you around and presses your back against his chest "now let your Papa puts your shoes on for you, little one" he whispers in your ears. You let yourself falling against him and he lifts your shirt and starts to stroke it to help you calm down.

He can feel your left over of sobs

Your Papa checks one last time on you before taking your sockets and shoes in his hands. He grabs one of your foot and slides the socket on it, until it reaches your ankle. He then slides your shoe on your foot and gently puts it back down

He does the same with your other foot and when he's done, he taps his hands on the top of your shoes "all done" he winks and you let a tiny smile growing under your still sad face.

You watch your Papa standing up and then feel your Daddy standing up with you too. He rests you on your feet and grabs a hold of your hand before starting to make your way to the car.

The more you walk, the more you feel less relax and more scared. You're really scared to go at this appointement and even if the words of your Daddies felt good earlier, it doesn't feel real as you reach the car.

He opens the door and helps you climbing in it. As he reaches for the belt, he sees your chest moving weirdly so he looks up and sees you silently cry on your seat.

His eyes soften in one moment and he's quick to climb on the seat beside you. He wraps his arms around you and shushes you "you'll be okay, baby." he quietly says

Steve peers through the mirror, he understands that Bucky got you and if he doesn't drive now, you'll be late. Bucky feels Steve's eyes on you so he locks eyes with him through the mirror and nods, giving him a reassuring look.

You feel the car moving and you instantly panic more. Your Daddy's arms tighten around you so you'll only feel him and not other things "breath, baby" he whispers "we're here and we'll never carry you to a place were you'll be in danger" he reassures you

You nod and take a few breath at the same time as him and slowly relax against his chest. Even if you still feel the pain in your body from the fear, you feel safe in your Daddy's arms, in your Daddies's car. For now.

When you feel the car stop, you pull away from your Daddy and look through the window. Your eyes widen in amaze as you gaze the giant tooth who's above the door. It had a huge smile and the most white teeth you've ever seen. The toothbrush against his teeth is your favorite colour which make you relax a bit more.

You feel your Daddy close behind you "it doesn't seem bad, does it ?" he asks drawing patterns on your back. You shake your head and your Papa leaves the car to open your door. He takes your hand in his and starts walking toward the door as you still gaze the tooth.

You pulled his hand, calling him "is my teeth has little teeth like him ?" you ask pointing at the giant tooth. Your Papa follows your gaze and chuckles

"Yes, little one" he kneels before you "each one of your tooth has little teeth in their mouth. That's why you have to be careful with them. If you eat too much sugar then it stay trap in, not only yours but their teeth too. And at that point it's really hard to clean everything"

Your eyes widen more and a shock look is showing on your face "no more sugar then" you say and he shakes your head "no" you drop your gaze at him "you can have sugar, and you will. What Papa can I be if I don't let my baby eating sugar ? Every little baby needs sugar and when they're good, they have sugar. But under our watch and without excess"

You smile and nod "okay! Lots of sugar under Daddies watch" you say and he drops his head chuckling. Your Daddy starts to laugh behind your Papa which make you giggle. You don't know why they're laughing but you want to laugh with them. Maybe you were funny so why not ?

Your Daddy walks toward you and takes you in his arms "really good, baby" he says as he rests you on his hip "you understood perfectly well what Papa tried to taugh you" he smirks looking down at Steve who glares up at him.

"If she has a tummyache because she ate too much sugar, because of you" he points at Bucky "it'll be your fault and you'll clean up if she gets sick" he warns as they start to walk toward the door again.

"Oh but my little baby is a good girl" he peers down at you, causing you to look up at him "she knows better" he winks at you and you giggle again while Steve rolls his eyes with a grin

~

It's been thirty minutes now that you wait in the room. At first you stayed close to your Daddies but you eventually got bored so you played a little with the toys before you. Then you missed your Daddies so you came back to them. You stay a little on your Papa's laps as he rocks you from side to side and caresses your arms and legs. Then you would go to your Daddy who whispers sweet nothings in your ears to relax you and draws paterns on your back as he asks you what he drawed.

You felt good, that until the door open and you feel your Daddies standing up. You were back on Steve's laps when that happen so you quickly wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You hid your face in his neck and shake your head "don wanna" you whine "pwease, i wanna go home"

He caresses your back as he walks "I know, princess" he whispers painfully. He hates seeing you like this and that he isn't able to do anything to help you get better "it'll be quick, I promise"

And with that, they walk inside the room and sat on chairs who are around a desk. "What can I do for you today ?" the dentist asks as she sats on her seat

"Our girl here need to have her wisdom teeth removed" Your Papa says pointing down at you. You gaze up at him unsure.

"Perfect" she smiles "you can come with me and sit here while I get everything ready"

~

"How are you doing, babygirl ?" your Daddy asks as he kisses your temple. You whine and try to talk but it's really hard because it hurts.

"it's okay, little one" he shushes you "don't try to talk, i'm sorry Daddy asked you something" he whispers against your head. "do you want ice on your cheeks ?"

You nod and your Daddy slowly pulls himself away from you and walk toward the kitchen. You look at your Papa who was already looking at you, his eyes soften when he sees your swollen face and he opens his arms "come to me, sweetie"

You crawl toward him and curl your little body in his laps, between his arms "you'll feel better in a couple days, baby" he reassures you "we'll make sure you're better the faster"

You nod and feel the couch moving so you look toward you "here, baby" your Daddy says, he rests the ice who's wrap around a towel against your cheek and do the same against the other

You wince a little in pain from the sudden contact but you can already feel your pain getting better. "what our precious princess want to do to be better ?" your Papa asks as he strokes your back

You look up at him and hope that he understands by your eyes what you want "she can't talk, Steve. It hurts too much" your Daddy reminds your Papa as he strokes your feet and legs.

"Right, do you want to watch tv ?" he asks and you shake your head

"do you want to spend time with your dolls ?"

You shake your head

"do you want us to read you a story ?" Your eyes sparkle and you nod. He smiles down at you and removes your hair from your face "do you want to stay here or go in our bed ?"

You nod your head when he asks if you want to go upstairs. "We'll go upstairs then, sweetness. And we'll cuddle as we read you a story. Would you like that ?" he asks and you nod again

Your Daddy stands up and goes upstairs to chose a book you love while your Papa is walking to the bedroom to get you all comfy in the king size bed. He gently lies you down and kisses your forehead "are you comfy, baby ?" you nod your head and feel the bed moving as your Papa is coming inside, beside you.

He wraps the blanket around you and wraps his arms around your body and starts to stroke your bare belly, knowing how much you love it and how much it calms you down.

Your Daddy comes back in the room with three of your favorites books. He rests two of them on the nightstand and comes inside the blanket on the other side of you. You immediatly feel warm, even with the ices against your cheeks.

He takes the book "are you ready, beautiful ?"

~

During the next days, you spend all your times with your Daddies. After three days you were able to eat easier than before. You had to eat liquid things before that. And your Daddies couldn't stop telling you how proud they were of you.

They cuddled you as much as you wanted, which means all the times. They kissed you, they caressed you each time you asked them. You had your ice cream and you went to the parc like you wanted, a few weeks after the appointement.

Now you feel better and it's because of you Daddies <3

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- chapter 1

Author' note: I realized that the links to the different chapters of this story weren't working, so I'm re-uploading the chapters. sorry for the spam!

There was something wrong. I knew there was something wrong. You know that feeling you get when you leave the house and you suddenly can’t remember if you left the stove on? Or if you left your hair straightener plugged in? It just sits there and nags at you and drives you up a fucking wall. That’s how it felt. 

I lay in bed, wrapped in the cozy white down comforter with Dodger in bed next to me. I run my hand through his fur as my mind runs wild. 

I look at the empty space next to me and sigh. Chris was up and out of the house early, kissing me on the forehead before he left. I always woke up just enough to be aware when he did it and to smile a tiny bit. Every time he did it, it made my heart flutter. It’s crazy that after nearly three years of marriage (three years in about a week, actually) and six years together, he could still make my heart race in the best ways. 

He’s been back for two days after doing press and promotion for the new movie, and I’m so glad to have him home for a while. Christmas was sacred in the Evans family, so we always made sure that we were always both home and there for everything that the season had to offer. In six years, we’ve never spent a Christmas apart. It’s a rule. 

I think back to the fight we had a few days ago, before he came home. A fight that took place over FaceTime, no less. What a stupid way to have a fight. We’ve been trying for a baby for the last year and a half. Since Chris’ contract with Marvel was ending, we both decided to go for it. Both from decent sized Irish Catholic families, we couldn’t wait to start one of your own. I’m young(ish), healthy, in good physical shape, and I took care of my body. For a year and a half I tracked my ovulation cycle, took my temperature, held my legs up in the air after sex (to Chris’ endless amusement), and did every other stupid thing I read about things to help get pregnant. But none of it had worked. 

My OB-GYN told me not to stress about it. Lots of couples tried for over a year before getting pregnant. There was nothing to worry about. There was no medical reason why I shouldn’t be getting pregnant. We were both trying our best to deal with it, but it was frustrating. I had mentioned over FaceTime that maybe it was time that we started looking into in vitro fertilization or adoption. In my head, I knew that I was jumping the gun, but I had this sinking feeling inside me that if I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Chris had gotten angry, telling me that maybe the reason I hadn’t gotten pregnant was because I was constantly stressing out about it to the point of almost making myself sick, and why couldn’t we just keep trying and if it happened, it happened.  I rarely, if ever, saw my husband lose his cool, and especially not with me. 

The video call had ended on a tense note, Chris muttering an apology before he told me that he had to leave for an interview, and me on the other end feeling like an asshole and like maybe I was extremely overreacting about the whole thing. 

When I had picked him up from the airport two days ago, Chris had swept me up in his arms and kissed me soundly, apologizing profusely for “being a horse’s ass” (his words) and telling me that if I wanted to make an appointment with the fertility doctor we had gone to see to talk about options, he was in.

But something was off. To the untrained eye, everything was fine, but I knew my husband. I knew him better than almost anyone, except maybe his mom. I went to work at my photo studio in downtown Concord, Chris spent time with his buddies from high school like he always did when he came back home, we both decorated for Christmas and played with Dodger in the snow. All seemed perfectly normal. Except for the fact that I knew Chris was having issues with his anxiety. There were little tics he got when it was bad. I was the same way. I had asked him more than once what was bothering him, but he always said everything was fine, and told me not to worry. 

Normally, whenever he got home from being away for any extended amount of time, we could barely keep our hands off each other for the first week, getting absolutely nothing accomplished and being the butt of jokes between his siblings about being disgusting and insatiable. However, we haven’t even been naked in the same room together since he got back. I didn’t think TOO much of it, chalking it up to jet lag and the stress of the press and our upcoming wedding anniversary and the holidays. 

Waking up alone was another sign that something was off. When Chris was home, mornings were spent in bed, cuddling, drinking coffee, laughing at Dodger wedging himself between us, trying to get maximum affection from his two favorite humans. Mornings meant slow kisses, wandering hands, fingers pushed gently through hair, breathy moans, whispered declarations of love and adoration. Mornings were the best part of my day; Chris making sure that I woke up gently, kisses pressed down the column of my throat, fingers tracing my hip and disappearing under the sheets, breath ghosting over my flesh, making me shiver. Waking up god awful early was worth it if this is how my day started. 

Finally deciding that it was probably time to get my ass out of bed and take Dodger out and get him fed, I pulled on my robe and slippers and headed downstairs. Waiting for the coffee to brew, I looked out into the backyard and watched Dodger chasing birds around our spacious backyard, the bright sunlight reflecting off of the fluffy white snow covering everything, and bit the inside of my cheek. 

There was something wrong. 

I could feel it. 

There was something going on with my husband and he wouldn’t talk to me about it.

[manylittleguys]

To any SCP-4231-A kins/introjects/fictives/links/etc:

I wanna start this by saying I'm writing this for me, Francis, Apollo, and Ukulele, not for any of you. We were never given closure, so now we're taking it by force. If this helps any of y'all? Great! If it doesn't? Well, it wasn't meant to.

I don't regret loving you, Lilly. Sure, you hurt Francis in ways the four of us will NEVER heal from. And I do blame you, because you did do that to him. But I will admit I can also see, now, with the perspective of other headmates who weren't there for it all, that there were things we could have done better. I'd say we were only human, but I know now that humanity is a choice you make and I'm not going to make that choice for you. We were young. We didn't know any better. We were each others' first for a lot of things. We were in our early twenties, we were reality benders, we were inexperienced. I don't blame you for making mistakes (although I do blame you for making them over and over again once you learned their consequences).

But I don't regret being your friend, and I don't regret loving you. You gave me Meri. Because of you I became one of those very same Jailors you so despised. I went from a Destroyer to a Jailor. And you know what? I might even be glad you did it all. Because becoming a Jailor was one of the best things to happen to me. I met my husband and my fiance and my partners because I was a Jailor. I met some of my closest friends because I was a Jailor. I met a guy who accidentally turned himself into a dog, a guy who spontaneously generated apple seeds, a guy who somehow always narrowly avoided death, and a lady who toyed with deadly viruses and bacteria (often anomalous) like legos to make tentacle creatures because she thought they were neat.

And I remember some nice times with you too. I remember how you helped me learn how to control what I always called my "disability" but you called our "powers". I remember playing in the creek with you, when there was no one around and our teeth were sharp and our eyes were many and our horns and antlers caught on the low-hanging tree branches and our hooves didn't help us at all in the rocky waters. I remember my mom doing her best to homeschool us because she didn't want us in public schools, and I remember neither of us could sit still very long because we wanted to be anywhere except my kitchen table sitting on wobbly chairs solving math problems in notebooks my mom had painstakingly printed for us in pen. I remember a treehouse in the middle of the forest and teaching my best friend to play ukulele, even though she was terrible at it. Because yeah, I never said it, but you were horrible with my ukulele.

I remember hiding from you in the forest because I accidentally told you that I felt more like a boy sometimes, and I remember holding your hand so tightly when we went and told my mom. I remember the three of us crying together because I should never have had to feel so afraid of my own mother, and I remember making cookies later because "bravery like yours should always be rewarded, Fran." I remember sitting up late into the night looking through baby name books we borrowed from the library so I could pick a new name. I remember when I decided I wanted it to be Francis, because it was a pretty name and it sounded so much like the old one that it wouldn't be hard to get used to the switch. I remember going to the first doctor's appointment and mom yelling at the doctors that "my son is perfectly fine! He just needs help with liking his body! A seven year old should get to love his body as much as any adult!"

I miss that. I miss the time before I slept with my legs crossed, where I was afraid to come home from weeks away at work with the GOC with the Ichabod Campaign. I miss the time before I would wake up in the middle of the night crying silently, covered in seemingly fresh bruises, coughing up blood. I miss the time before it felt like I couldn't remember anything but my childhood and that house with you, when I could never remember what I did for work. I miss the time before it felt like I couldn't remember anything but my childhood and blood and guns and the GOC. I miss the time before I was afraid of being asked to tell the truth. I miss the days before I dreaded going to sleep to the point it became hard to sleep at night.

Lilly, I hope you can see the extent of what you did to me. If you have an apology, I'll accept that you've given it, but I can't promise I'll forgive you. I can't promise that Francis or Apollo will either. I doubt that Ukulele will forgive you. If you have an explanation to give us, I'll also listen to that, but I can't promise more than that either. Regardless, I think you should know that I regret that Ukulele killed you, in the end. Apollo, and to a lesser extent Francis, had hoped that maybe, when Meri was born, it would finally stop and we could be happy again. But we also knew that the Ichabod Campaign was on it's way and we wouldn't let them have Meri.

Alto

[rosiedoestumblr]

40 looks so good on you, Ms. Rosie! I hope I’m as cool as you when I’m 40. I’m currently 28, and aging kind of scares me, but it’s people like you that make me feel like there’s nothing to be scared of. 🩷 Thanks for sticking around the internet (specifically Fall Out Boy spaces) as long as you have, it’s always quite a treat to see you on my dash. Have a good day!!

Aw, thanks dude! That's such a nice thing to say (I think you may be mistaken about exactly how cool I am, though). I know I'm really fortunate that having Sicilian genes and a chubby face disguises some of the ageing process, but bear in mind that (as with most people) the pictures I share are probably one or two out of 30 I took to find a couple from a good angle, with good lighting, possibly a Norfolk Terrier or a scarf over my chin to hide how many of them I've cultivated in the last 20 years... I also tend to keep my make up (except my eyeliner) quite natural, because I find that helps keep you looking fresh faced - but that principle shouldn't dictate what you wear.

Here is my stupid face right now, without make up and with unwashed hair. I developed adult acne after having immaculate skin when I was a teenager, possibly because my dog keeps standing on it or licking all over it. I have OCD and what is (appointment pending) probably about to be diagnosed as ADHD, so I'm a chronic skin picker, hence the scars all over my chin and forehead. I've also got fine lines under my eyes, bottom lip and on my forehead, but automatic settings on modern phone cameras kind of smooth the worst of them out.

The whole thing about getting older can be scary, but mostly because we've all been raised on the Boomer-generation's expectations, through movies, TV, adverts and the like, and a lot has changed. We're really fortunate to live at a time where being yourself is much more acceptable than it used to be, in most (although sadly not all) cases. Every advert you see is specifically designed to make you feel inadequate and make you fear irrelevance, but only so they've got an excuse to sell you something you can live without. Whether that's a fancier car or anti-wrinkle cream.

You don't actually have to do the stuff that really ages you, unless you want to. You can keep going to shows (to be honest, gigs have got so expensive we see more people our age there than younger people, who often struggle to afford what bands are asking). You can keep wearing band shirts. You can keep dying your hair and getting tattoos. You can keep being passionate about it. You're a grown ass adult, it's down to you to make your own choices. You don't have to give up what you love, but sometimes you have to be creative about the time you find in which to enjoy it. And you'll appreciate that more.

I've never wanted kids, so I haven't had any.

I never went to uni, but I fell into a career that pays me alright, and it's not an industry I care a lot about (I'm a gas safety contract manager) but I see it as a resource that allows me to do the things that I really want to, the rest of the time.

It's important to remember to live your own life, not the life someone else - anyone else - wants you to. You have to be pragmatic, obviously, and if you choose to settle down with another person then give and take will always be necessary, but don't ever let someone tell you what you can and can't be interested in because of your age (except you, Prince Andrew) or what you can or can't spend your own spare time and disposable cash doing. Keep loving the things you love, if they still captivate you. Fuck anyone who would tell you otherwise! It's the joylessness of giving up your identity to become nothing but your life obligations that costs you the most.

For my part, I'm pretty squarely between Patrick and Andy, age-wise. Fall Out Boy are my generation. We've grown up together, in a fannish sense. It's not like a TV show might be, where the characters are still young and I've gotten old in the last 18 years, they're still relatable to me, even now. Which is probably a lot of the reason I'm still here, specifically.

Watching the waves of new fans discovering the band over the years has been fun, really. Partly because it makes us truly geriatric emos feel like mystical sages sitting on the lonely mountain tops of Old Timer Fandom, offering anecdotes from bandom drama long ago, to young adventurers who approach us with news from the mists of TikTik to ask if things really happened, and witnessing the same things happening cyclically, every couple of years.

New blood means Pete will feel validated and Patrick will feel relevant they'll continue to feel they have something to offer/sell (look what happened when an album didn't do as well...) and it's hard to fault that.

Focus on enjoying your life and your interests as they are now (although do think about saving some of your money when you can, because you'll thank yourself later) and fuck worrying about everything else. You'll find you don't feel any different, when you get where I am, than you do now, anyway.

You have a good day, too. And thanks again for saying such kind things. xoxo

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 3

summary: after dealing with a tough injury, azzi is just hoping for some stability. after their plans fall through, paige finds a creative way to give her just that.

warnings: angst, suggestive language, brief mention of injury.

disclaimer: as always everything i write is fictional!

word count: 2.9k +

author's note: sorry for the long wait, thank you for being patient. i tried something a bit different here, i hope you all enjoy <3

~flashback to november ‘23~

azzi’s pov:

i know everyone loves to believe their best friend would do anything for them, but paige really would.

i knew it from the day i tore my acl. the way paige was crying for me, i thought she got hurt.

i’ll spare you the details but recovery was hell. the worst part was seeing how much of it paige took on. she was at every physical therapy appointment and check up. she called me every night to make sure i was doing my recovery exercises.

between school and practice, paige managed to check in on me at any opportunity.

and the crazy part is...she made it all look effortless.

i didn't want paige to feel like all her hard work was going to waste, so i refused to let her see me when things got really bad. which as of recently, has been the case.

it felt like i was losing years of progress day by day. sometimes i'd lay down and physically feel the time and dedication being stripped from my body. i poured myself into this sport just for everything to be taken from me in an instant.

everything except her.

i remember one night in particular so vividly. i’d spent all day resting and watching enough reality tv to numb my mind.

paige called me every chance she got. seriously, you would’ve thought she was the one injured.

“AZZI, HOW WE FEELIN TODAY,” she yells through the phone.

“oh i’m doing great, p. thanks for asking,” i said sarcastically.

“you know what day it is right?” she asks, her excitement rising.

every year, we’d pick a day in the fall to drive out to my favorite restaurant, charlie’s. they have this amazing fresh basil pizza that i would (no lie) kill somebody for.

the tradition started after paige and i tried to learn how to cook at my house and almost burned down the place. after that, we agreed we'd just make the trip at least once a year. the only bad part was that charlie’s was about two hours away.

“yes, paige. how could i forget?” i say trying not to let her hear my smile through the phone.

“just making sure, i’ll pick you up in an hour,” she responds.

i started getting ready, carefully avoiding my leg. i wouldn’t say this to paige but i’d really been struggling. as much as having her here was great, playing with her was when the magic happened. so i’ve been really looking forward to this, at least some things didn’t change.

i was almost done getting ready when i got another call from paige.

“hey…azzi, bad news,” she speaks softly as if she might scare me. “charlie’s got shut down last month.” she sounds almost as disappointed as me.

“oh,” i respond. it feels as if my world had just collapsed.

i can’t think of anything else to say.

“i’m so sorry azzi, we’ll do something else. i know how hard everything's been recently,” she pleads frantically. she almost sounds like she’s gonna cry.

“nah p, it’s fine really,” i try to sound happy.

“hey i’ll talk to you later, k?” i hang up before she can hear my voice break.

god, why does everything have to be so terrible right now.

paige’s pov:

when i found out about charlie’s, my heart broke for her.

i'd been visiting or calling azzi almost every day since the accident. i know she's gotten annoyed by my overly enthusiastic phone calls but it's the only way i've been getting a smile out of her.

i still remember the first time we went together. from outside, charlie's didn't look like anything special. just another hole-in-the-wall joint tucked between a pawnshop and a laundromat.

but my god, the way her eyes lit up when we stepped inside.

the small interior illuminated by the warm glow of an excessive amount of lamps and chandeliers. none of which followed any cohesive style.

vintage southern soul records croon from the speakers with a gritty authenticity.

i wasn’t a fan of the food to be completely honest, the basil pizza azzi raved about tasted like...pizza to me? the real beauty of charlie's was the ambience.

azzi was the air that breathed life into this place.

a honeyed glow kaleidoscope refracted on her face, her smile still brighter than the surplus of lights. while we ate, azzi gushed over the art covering the wall. effortlessly naming different artists' with the ease of a soul singer.

despite looking like they hadn't been watered in years, resilient dark green vines twisted around bookshelves and counters. the rebellious desire to bloom.

a pale imitation of my admiration for her.

the drive back home was my favorite. a peace seemed to have washed over her, clearly satisfied with our trip. with a special kind of softness only azzi had, she'd hum to herself.

i'd sneak looks at her while driving, watching as the sun flickered on her face through the trees. a slight breeze carrying her curls. the drive was long and boring but moments like this made it all worth it.

so when i found out about charlie's closing, i knew exactly what i needed to do.

it only occurred to me after i'd been deciding between tomato sauces for a half hour, that i might have a thing for her. i stood in the aisle, comparing two nearly identical cans, scanning ingredients like a mad man.

get it together, bueckers. its just pizza.

but it wasn't. it was the way her eyes darted around the room. the slightly higher pitch she took on when she talked about it. the velvety texture of her laugh.

it was her.

i just want everything to be perfect. she deserves it.

i bought both cans just to be safe, plus i needed an extra just in case i burn the first batch.

i must've looked like a crazy person, repeating the list of ingredients under my breath. finally snapping out of my trance, i locked eyes with a bouquet of flowers. the same kind of flowers she'd put in her hair when we went on vacation.

a postcard from simpler times, laced with her careless joy.

without a second thought, i threw them into my basket. the hard part would be what came after. i can't cook to save my life.

after countless attempts and enough youtube tutorials to last a lifetime, i finally had something. a misshapen pizza in the vague form of a heart.

at the very least, it'll make her laugh.

the second hard part was picking an outfit. i usually had no trouble finding an outfit to fit any event but tonight was different. it felt like i had sifted through my entire closet when i finally spotted it– one of azzi tank tops.

would it be weird if i showed up to her house in her clothes?

all things considered, i think it'd be the least strange thing i've done for her tonight. i lifted the top over my head slowly, letting myself catch a hint of her perfume. an earthy vanilla haze coating my thoughts, heat rushing to my face. i'm almost jealous of the damn thing for getting to be so close to her.

if i focus hard enough i can almost feel her touch.

despite my own preferences, i left my hair down. shaking out my roots so my curls fell a bit out of place.

she'll fix it for me anyways. she always does.

i know her. her warm brown eyes will scan my hair and she'll try to ignore it until she can't anymore. she'll let out a big dramatic sigh and roll her eyes then tuck one of my loose curls behind my ear. maybe even throw in a comment or two about charging me for being my personal hairstylist. but behind her sarcasm, azzi's touch carried a kindness i'd never seen before.

i tapped my fingertips anxiously against my steering wheel when i pulled into her driveway. i took a sharp deep breath before stepping out of the car. i'd been to her house hundreds of times, but there was something different about this.

i just hope i did everything right.

my hand shakes slightly as i ring her doorbell.

azzi's pov:

my body flinched when i heard my doorbell. i had been trying to take my mind off of charlie's closing by finally reading one of my favorite thrillers. a bit paranoid after reading so much suspense, i took a deep breath before walking to the door.

i swear if it's another one of those salespeople again. like how many times do we gotta say we're not gonna get solar panels? and at this time of the night? that's some persistence.

as i swing the door open, and my words catch in my throat. paige stands there, fighting off a soft smile. in one hand she carries a small glass container, her nervous fingers fidgeting with the foil on top. in the other hand, golden yellow and red flowers peek out from behind her.

she didn't.

"i just thought i'd– " before she can finish her sentence i fling my arms around her neck nearly knocking both items out of her hands.

feeling her arms wrap around my waist, i nearly cry. my eyes sting and i take a steadying breath into her ear.

paige might just be an earth angel.

my heart swells in my chest, a sweet ache. with my head on her shoulder, a familiar scent wafts toward me.

was that my perfume?

i hug her for a beat longer when i finally pull away, her fingers trace my waist.

she wears my clothes like they were made for her.

"you could've told me you were gonna get all dressed up," i tease, eyeing my shirt.

"we always get dressed up for charlie's," she shoots back with a smile.

and just like that, i'm okay again.

holding the door open for her, i get a good look at her outfit. my gaze lingering on her curves, the fabric melting around the rough edges of her muscles.

even in my porch light, she looked like a supermodel.

watching her plate the food, i felt something deeper than my usual admiration for her. she carefully finds a vase for the flowers. she could navigate my kitchen blindfolded. her fingers sorting through my silverware, a domestic intimacy. things were always so easy with her.

for a moment, i could see our future– not as a new vision, but our inevitable path. a kitchen of our own, shared tableware, late night cooking. i felt a claim to this future like it was promised to me.

shit– i've been staring at her this whole time. i should help her with the food.

i bend over the counter to grab the plates, letting my body drape over her forearm for a moment. i feel her eyes trace my body, a nervous awareness of my movements. straightening my spine, i caught her eye. a carnation-pink dusting her cheek, she snapped her eyes to the floor.

oh, i'm definitely gonna have to catch her staring more often.

as she unwraps the container, i finally get a good look at the pizza: an irregularly shaped crust, with slightly burnt edges.

is that supposed to be a heart?

a giggle bubbles up in my chest and i turn my face to hide it.

"paige, what happened here?" i say between laughs. my eyes softening out of genuine sympathy.

"hey!" she's immediately defensive. "this is a piece of modern abstract art, you're into that stuff anyways," she pokes my side smiling.

"ah, yes. was picasso an inspiration for you in this piece?" i tease.

the fact that paige can't microwave popcorn without setting off the smoke detector but managed to make a whole pizza for me is...impressive to say the least. i almost don't believe it was her.

did she really learn how to cook for me?

my heart swells at the thought of her checking the oven anxiously, flour dusting her cheek. the image is so sweet, it makes my head hurt.

"well, i think it's perfect," i finally let her off the hook.

"that's not all either," she grabs her phone out of her pocket.

a playful smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she scrolls. finally tapping her phone, a few familiar notes of a song plays. it takes me a moment before i recognize it– "loved by you" by kirby.

oh god, she wouldn't–

but of course, she would. grabbing a wooden spoon as a microphone, she belts in right before the chorus.

"cause i heard that heaven ain't easy to get to…" her voice cracks but from the look on her face she's completely tone deaf.

i take a seat, raising my eyebrows at her while holding in a laugh. she beams at me, dramatically taking a deep breath before the next line.

"closest i'll get might be right next to you," she drags out the last note. her wooden spoon microphone in one hand, she cups my face with the other. i can't help but flash her a smile, her thumb falling into my dimple.

a loving warmth radiates from her touch, i have to resist the urge to lean into her palm.

only paige could look this gorgeous while being so ridiculous.

there's something so special about seeing her like this. dancing around my kitchen with the confidence of veteran performer. unabashedly herself, pouring out her heart just to make me laugh. this is when she looks the most beautiful.

"paige, my neighbors are gonna think i'm torturing small animals in here," i taunt.

"boo, you're such a hater," she laughs between verses, still singing.

her hair falls out of place slightly, just adding to her beauty. standing up, i take the strand and tuck it behind her ear. her singing softens to a whisper when she feels my touch.

breathless, her eyes flicker to my lips, and i swear i could hear her heartbeat race. i search to meet her eyes but they remain intently on my lips. her sweet nervous breath tingling against my cheek. she sways ever so slightly, and my breath hitches, thinking she's gonna close the gap.

"azzi–" she closes her eyes briefly.

she's so close to giving in, i can see the indecision on her face.

"how have you been, like really," her eyes open, filled with tender worry.

her question catches me off guard. i thought i'd been doing a good job keeping all this to myself.

she sees right through me.

after everything she's done for me tonight, i owe her a bit of vulnerability. i take a deep sigh before answering.

"it's been... tough. yeah. i haven't been doing great." i respond, recalling countless days i've spent wishing i could get back to normal.

"you know, i'm here for you, right?" her words carry intention, i know she means it.

"i know, i just didn't want to be a burden," i feel my words catch in my throat. my eyes start to water.

"oh, azzi–" she pulls me into a deep hug. "never say that again."

paige has this amazing ability to make my worries disappear in just a few sentences.

i melt into her hug, my body going slack in her arms. a few tears land on her shoulder. i can't think of the right thing to say, caught between thanking her and apologizing.

"whatever you want, okay? i'm here. even if it takes a million of those little picasso pizzas," she laughs softly, stroking my back.

"speaking of which, they're probably getting cold by now," i pull back collecting myself.

she nods, giving my hand a squeeze before letting go. despite its shape, the food is great. dare i say it may even be better than charlie's, but i wouldn't tell her that.

like always, we fall into an easy conversation. in just the span of a dinner, i can feel weeks of heavy apathy fall off my shoulders.

how did i get so lucky?

paige's pov:

seeing her smile was the highlight of my night. even if it was just for a few hours, i'm glad to have my girl back.

empty plates sit forgotten on the counter as we lounge in her living room. sitting as still as i possibly can, azzi's head rest on my shoulder. her breath slows to a sweet hum. i watch her chest rise and fall like waves crashing on the shore as she dozes off.

of course, she also looks pretty when she sleeps.

i hate to interrupt this beautiful moment, but it was getting late.

"azzi," i whisper to her, trying to wake her gently.

"hm," she whines, slowly blinking.

"i should probably get going," i say, hoping she can hear the reluctance in my voice. knowing if she said stay, i would.

"okay..." she responds finally sitting up. "just one more thing."

anything. whatever she wants.

"yeah, what's up," i try to sound nonchalant like i wouldn't drop everything for her in an instant.

"can you help me take my brace off so i can change clothes?" she sounds almost embarrassed for having to ask.

"yes, of course," i respond, failing to hide my eagerness.

she stands in front of me, using my shoulders for stability. my fingers work at the straps gently. my movements are deliberate and careful as i grip her hips. as she changes, i find a spot to stare at on the floor respectfully.

"better?" i ask.

"yeah, thanks" she replies bashfully.

i stand to hug her goodbye. i swear it hurts a little more each time i leave.

"thank you...for all of this," her breath tickling my shoulder as she speaks.

"always." i hope she knows i mean it.

loving azzi was the easiest thing i've ever done in my life.

[lilacastar]

KDA 20: Familiar stranger

A bell dinged as Randle pushed the door open, holding it for him and 5K.

"Welcome in." A voice with little enthusiasm said absentmindedly.

He stepped closer into the establishment, the scent of ink and tools brought back a vague familiarity he couldn't quite place. Perhaps the time he got a tattoo done in his friend's basement? The poorly done star sign still marked his shoulder.

A tall woman stood, cleaning up equipment on the work table.

"Walk-ins are accepted, but I do have an appointment in-" Her voice trailed upon seeing them. Or maybe just Kalrick.

"I guess I'm only important when you need something, huh?" She laughed, making light in what she already knew. "Where've you been, Riki?"

"Are you Valery?" He asked the obvious. The tall woman surveyed them, dressed in black pants, and a tight black tank. Black, thick eyeliner and black lipstick, and naturally, covered in tattoos.

"Are you brain damaged?"

"Essentially, yeah."

She laughed, before noticing he wasn't joining, and her smile slowly died.

"Are you serious?" Her tone dropped flat.

"Yeah, I'm not joking."

She searched 5K and Randle's reaction, as if they were in on the joke. They didn't react, concluding the sincerity of the situation.

"I am, so sorry, fuck- I thought you were fucking with me,"

"It's fine," He shook his head.

"What happened? Is that why you've been gone?."

"Basically a demo-" He paused, rethinking the plausibility of the truth and reflected on something more believable. "I went through a dissociative episode for the past two years, and basically my entire self was someone else. But I'm back now, looking for some closure, I guess."

She held an odd almost-smile, Kalrick couldn't quite read. Her eyes glanced him over, but he didn't care what she was judging really. There wasn't a whole lot he could stoop lower to at this point.

"What?" He scowled up at her. He wasn't tall to begin with, but his head came up to her shoulder.

"I just feel really bad now, like, so bad. You would not believe."

"I'm not really here for pity."

"That honestly makes me feel worse."

"Well I'm not going to comfort you, I just want to know some stuff." He turned to his friends. "What am I here for again?"

"Honestly, I don't remember." 5K said.

"She tattooed you," Randle sighed. "And safe to assume, other things."

"Right," Kalrick continued, and extended his wrists. "You did this, right?"

She surveyed her ruined work, the fresh scars breaking the sigil. "Yeah, and the other 4 you have."

"Did I ever say whose sigil it was? Or anything relating to what I was doing?"

"Nope, all I made sure was that it wasn't a hate symbol, cause I don't do those."

"You're telling me you don't know anything? Not even who I was to you?"

"Who I was? We weren't much man, mostly just physical. You liked sex, I liked sex, we both got what we wanted. It was on and off, you're pretty skidish. And then disappeared for two months."

"But you had to have heard or seen something about what I was doing. Anything relating to this." He gestured to his wrists again.

"I mean, you were obsessed with that. I don't know what it is, but you were completely obsessed with it. You drew it in notebooks, walked in the pattern, and I think worshiped it at the Baptist church."

"Heritage church?"

"Yeah, that one. Do you for real not remember anything? Or is it patchy, or.."

"Treat me like a clean slate."

"I don't really have much else for you. We fucked, you were obsessed with the sigil and church, and you were in general strange."

"That's my default, how strange do I got to be to be even more?"

"Well," Her voice trailed momentarily. "When you first got inked, you were different. Then you stopped using a phone. When I say you were skidish, I don't think anyone could contact you except through carrier pigeon. You just came when you pleased."

"So I was noticeably different, and this wasn't concerning?"

She started to rearrange the tools again, hands fidgeting but there wasn't anything to clean anymore.

"Little dude, you were very persistent in not talking about your life and avoiding questions. Like, whatever you told me about disassociating, I straight up believe you because you are wildly different right now. But two months ago, you were not asking questions like this, in fact, you'd leave on site if I asked too many. You were just the weird guy who liked having sex with me and paid well for the tattoos."

Something about the conversation left a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't have the words quite yet, but with time it'd happen. As for now, uneasy was what he could call it.

"Well," he shifted, getting ready to go. "I have your phone number and I, Kalrick not Riki, use a phone. Text me if you suddenly remember something."

"Wait!" she called after him, the trio already leaving.

He waited expectantly, but her calculating gaze implied she did indeed have more knowledge.

"At least let me fix your hair."

"My hair? I just cut it."

"Yeah I can tell. Please let me fix it, it's salvageable, it really is."

"I don't care what it looks like, I just needed it off."

"Please, it's literally so bad." Her tone was so cheerful it almost countered the message. "I have some scissors, let me just even out the ends really quick."

"It's not that bad."

5K and Randle groaned sounds of skepticism.

"I mean," Randle mumbled. "I wasn't going to say anything because you seem to be into doing your own thing but..."

"Dog it's ugly as shit." 5K agreed.

That was saying something coming from him. His hair was cropped short, near a buzz to disguise the start of his male patterned hairline. He took no part in styling or the degree of self-care Randle did. To say it was bad, he must've meant it.

"It's the least I can do," Valery said.

"Alright," he sighed, face flushing.

She sat him down in the chair, covering his shirt with a towel.

"At least you didn't cut it too short," she said, beginning the restoration. "It's not the worst to work with, it's just wildly uneven, especially in the back."

"Thanks, it was the work of my bathroom scissors."

"Why'd you do it? It was so pretty long."

"Got too much, and wasn't me. The other guy kept it long and it reminded me... It made me feel trapped."

Randle had been staring intensely at Valery the entire time, when 5K nudged him, breaking his focus.

"Why don't we check out the flashart book at the front?" 5K encouraged.

Randle mumbled something unintelligible, but let himself be guided away anyway.

"Hey," Valery resumed. "I'm not judging. Sometimes I need to manicly cut my hair too. Usually my bangs. Or dye it, dying's a good go-to." She adjusted her position, paused, then resumed on the edges.

Being with her, chatting, felt natural despite how he didn't know her. Did she feel like she knew him? And this was just another casual encounter? She handled his hair like second nature, and his body was not afraid.

"Valery?" He asked.

"Hm?"

"Do you miss me, because I'm not him? Even though it was only about the transaction."

The rhythm of her clipping halted before continuing her original tempo.

"Why would you say something so sad?" Her upbeat voice didn't falter a bit. Instead, she sounded like she was comforting a kicked puppy.

She removed the towel, and gifted him a small mirror from the tool table. It did look noticeably better, he couldn't deny his poor craftsmanship anymore. His white hair still rested past ear length, but her handy work fixed the layers and softened up how harshly he shocked its texture.

"Thank you," he stumbled, unused to kind words coming out of himself.

"Cute, right? You're literally so cute."

"It looks good," he agreed. "But I can't have... Our relationship can't be what you remembered me as."

"I kind of figured. I still think you're cute though."

"You're attractive too, just not to me."

"Wow." She nearly coughed.

"I didn't mean it like-"

"I get it."

"No, you're pretty. It's just I'm not into girls like that."

"Oh." She stayed quiet for a few seconds, then repeated. "Oh."

"At least men is what I've always had experience with. Maybe I could experiment, I don't know. But not right now."

"No, that's completely understandable. I'm just- I'm just so sorry."

"Why? I told you I wasn't here for feeling sorry, I was just following what leads I have."

"Just in general I guess."

"It's not your fault I was sick."

She forced a half-hearted smile. "Hey, if you want a cover-up, I won't charge you."

"That's bad business, but I'll probably take you up on that." Every time he saw his wrists, it was a reminder of how his life spiraled out of his own control. Maybe his own choice of tattoo would help feel like he was back in control.

"You know where to find me."

With that, he said his thanks, collected his friends, and left the shop. He hadn't obtained the information he hoped for, but at least she had shown compassion no one else had.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3289

today was a long day. i spent the day with my friend because her birthday is this week and i won't be able to see her for it, so i got to hang out with her today.

i took her out while her husband prepared food and got cake and ice cream. i took her to get her hair cut and have a moisture therapy done on it because her hair is brittle, and what they wound up doing is a protein therapy AND a moisture therapy, and i was AMAZED at the results. her hair is very thin and fragile and very fine. when the stylist was done, it looked like it was significantly thicker, even though it still felt light i watched her hair go from very fine and light to looking like three times the thickness, at least. it was amazing. i had never seen a transformation like that before.

so kids, if your hair is really brittle and breaks really easily, it's because it needs protein and moisture and you need to stress less about it because that's a huge thing, apparently - stress makes your hair break. and apparently so does the omicron strand of covid. one stylist said that they had so many people come in after that strand of the virus with mid-strand breakage. which is fuckin wild.

anyway, the stylist was one of the kindest people i've ever met in a salon. she was compassionate and sweet and she chatted to help keep my friend's mind off of her hair and how she was feeling, because she was nervous and upset about confronting things she has always been self-conscious about. she gave us tips on what to do and what to use and how to use it and i wrote it all down and i was able to relay it later. not only all of that and her skill as a stylist because goddamn that lady can do hair amazingly, she also gave the most heartfelt confidence-boosting pep-talk i've ever heard in my life. this woman is speaking from experience and her wisdom brought tears to my eyes and to my friend's eyes. she has been so worried and afraid and self-conscious about her hair and how it looks for years, and this beautiful, kind stranger was the first person to tell her she was beautiful. when it comes to stuff like that, she doesn't tend to trust people she's close to, because she knows we love her anyway, just the way she is, and we think she's beautiful even though she does not perceive herself that way. but hearing those words from a stranger? it hits different.

when we left, i had gotten all of the products she had recommended, and my friend had another appointment for a protein treatment in a few weeks.

when we left, my friend was smiling. and that was a big deal.

then we went to get our nails done! i realized belatedly that i shouldn't get a pedicure because of the warts on my heel, but i could get my nails painted and get a manicure, so that's what i did. i got my friend the whole shebang. and while my friend was not entirely enamoured with the color of her fingernails, i am enamoured with mine. i am finally digging into my emo teenager phase as a 30-year-old, and my fingernails are black, except for the ring finger nails, which are the same blue-green-dark iridescent as my toenails. because my sandals are black, it's got the same kind of balance on my hands as on my feet. which i love.

we also went to texas roadhouse for lunch, and then we went back and watched youtube videos and a vine compilation, and it took a while but her husband made kebabs for dinner and we munched them and watched the super mario bros movie which i LOVED. very pleased with it. we had cake and ice cream and i attempted to play one of the original super mario games and i gotta tell you, it was BAD.

i left around 10 i think, and i got back and sat with joel a little before throwing in my laundry and making my way to bed. now i'm here and so is joel and i want to pass out immediately.

joel is my favorite. i'm so grateful for him.

[prettyboykatsuki]

♡  bakugou headcanons that feel like a warm hug ♡

➳wc ;; 1.2k (oh my god. what is wrong w me.) 

➳ a/n ;; or my bakugou brain-rot that never goes away. thanks for being my comfort character, you fucking gremlin. forgive the silly title. 

♡ always makes little adjustments to the environment for you. he’s observant to a fault so if there’s something even a little off and it happens to bother you, he’s trying to work around it. 

♡ good at playing guitar but not good at reading music. he can throw something together if you give him a chance but he’s not good at trying to recreate someone elses memory. he’s not like.. musically gifted either but he likes how guitar sounds 

♡ thinks about getting a lot of piercings in his ear because he thinks they’d look cool but is kind of too nervous? the idea of a needle going through his skin is a ick. when you start dating, he drags you to his appointments lol - won’t admit it but he thinks he looks so hot when he gets them. takes a bunch of selfies <3 

♡ needs to be moving constantly. can’t sit completely still to save his life. when he listens to music, he moves his head. sometimes he just runs his thumb over his fingers. 

♡ really, really bad at talking. not in the sense he can’t communicate (that too) but he just likes listening in conversation. rarely adds his own thing. but when he does - always accidentally says something super meaningful 

♡ enjoys subtle physical touch because it is literally intimate he melts inside. a hand on his forearm or shoulder. your legs over his lap. small things that show how comfortable you are. 

♡ likes being held cause he’s a big ass baby lmfao 

♡ wont admit it but enjoy when you choose pretty or colorful bandages for his cuts he won’t himself but it’s like keeping you in his pocket wherever he goes.  

♡ really needs you to find him attractive dslksjk it’s not that he ever thinks he’s particularly ugly. but he didn’t really assign importance to his appearance at any point in his life, yet now he puts in a scary amount of effort. readjusts his hair so much more, makes sure his clothes fit good. fixes his fuckin’ face lol 

♡ likes chewing gum a lot and always has a pack on him. really proud of how big he can blow bubbles and will be a little sad if you’re unimpressed. 

♡ is overly sentimental about things you’ve made him - especially if it’s something super dumb. you drew him a silly little sketch of him in a frog hat? it’s in his wallet behind his id. freaks out when he thinks he’s lost his wallet 

♡ LOVES phone calls. yes he still hates talking. but the way his face looks when he listens to your voice. eyes half-lidded, shamelessly smiling - it’s so tender and so lovesick. 

♡ terrible first grader hand-writing. he tries to write them for you in the beginning of your relationship (to be romantic or some shit) but they’re so incomprehensible pls. if he focuses on it - it can be legible but most of the time ... yea no. 

♡ doesn’t favor tea or coffee but prefers tea if he has to drink one. 

♡ crazy good at eyeballing measurement. even in baking. once made a perfectly good bread without weighing anything and doesn’t get why that’s so wild. 

♡ has the phone on his text set to be bigger even though his eyes are fine. 

♡ lets you do the layout thing on his iphone and decorate as you please. says he doesn’t care but when he sees you made it hero themed/fit with his aesthetic - he got so red it was so cute. 

♡ hates shopping in store. will still always go with you because the one time you went alone a store clerk hit on you.  

♡ so practical. he started couponing when he was in his early twenties like an old man. checks the news and weather the night before, every night. never misses doctors appointments. 

♡ shit at any form of visual art. drawing, painting etc - cannot do it to save his life. but he tries. his hands shake when he tries to draw hearts for you 

♡ blows the eyelashes off your cheek super gently whenever he notices. he’ll like.. take your face in his hands and blow so softly like he’s gonna hurt you. 

♡ used to agree to make pinky promises with you as a joke. now though? automatically holds his pink out for you to take it. straight up pouts if you don’t. 

♡ you two have a song and when it comes on, he’ll sing it back to you. any other time? any other song? he wont. but he always sings your song even without realizing, just mouths it. 

♡ enjoys when you put your hands under his shirt and just leave them there and hug him like that. skin to skin contact is elite but only from you. 

♡ hamsters adore this man. they just do. 

♡ draws frowny faces on your eggs with hot-sauce 

♡ soul leaves his body when you play with his hair and scratch his scalp. the tension in his neck literally disappears and he just sighs that shit relaxes him like crazy 

♡ the first time he says i love you, you’re tying his tie for his first hero event. you’re telling him to that the color looks good on him and you’re smiling. it honestly it just slips. he went on to win an award that night. 

♡ his favorite memory of the two of you was when you were trying to leave the grocery store one afternoon. it was raining heavy as shit. you pulled him in under your clear umbrella and just stood there. he doesn’t know why but that means a lot to him. 

♡ cares a lot about his dads approval on his work specifically. him and his dad have a really specifc bond and he actually admires him quite a bit. 

♡ nothing makes him cry like “im proud of you”. especially when it’s for something small. it’s just something he didn’t hear enough in a sincere way. 

♡ likes fruit flavored sweets over chocolate (generally needs something to do w his mouth cause it helps him think. bad oral fixation) so he keeps little candies on him 

♡ shit at video games. terrible at them with the exception of mario kart? for some reason. 

♡ always loses his keys 

♡ stutters every!single!time! he tries to compliment you. it’s been YEARS. 

♡ takes a melatonin gummy before bed and always drinks a glass of water 

♡ buys you flowers and keeps them too. like does the upkeep on it and replaces them if the wilt. suggests pressing them to keep them for longer. 

♡ lowkey cries really easily. he just gets overwhelmed w his feelings some times and it makes him cry even if he doesn’t want too. you and the bakusquad are sworn to secrecy over it though 

♡ wears his ring around his neck on a chain bc it’s easier to show off. 

♡ naturally good at doing hair! 

♡ likes sneakers but wears dr. scholl's because he walks a lot and is on his feet for most of the day w his job. just being careful. 

♡ loves u a lot <3 

[liketolaugh-writes]

“O Fleecy, do me a solid. Show me Raine Robins at St. Joan’s.”

Percy kind of liked being able to do his therapy cross-legged on his bed, using the rainbow from a prism on his windowsill. It was kind of nice, or at least, it had been for the two sessions he’d managed to fit in before Hera whisked him away.

Raine’s office shimmered into view, resolving into an image of Raine flipping through her old notebook for him, frowning in concentration. Looked exactly like she had the last time he saw her, except with maybe a couple new pictures on her desk.

“Hey, Raine,” he said, smiling wearily when she jumped and looked up, eyes bright behind horn-framed glasses. “Sorry I missed our last appointment.”

It was a weak joke. Their last appointment had been scheduled nearly a year ago now, and instead of Percy, Raine had gotten a call from Annabeth, demanding to know if Percy had said anything worrying lately.

“Percy,” Raine said, with so much relief that Percy was touched. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Is everything okay? Your mother said you wanted to return to two-hour sessions.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Percy tried to smile. “It’s been a really rough year. Is it okay? I don’t want to be a pain.” He fidgeted, picking at his sleeve. “Never mind, one hour is a lot already, it’s fine. Forget I said anything.”

Concern shadowed Raine’s face, and then she packed it up and allowed composure to take over, straightening in her seat. “Two hours is fine. I would have mentioned if I didn’t have the time. Where do you want to start?”

Percy relaxed, thought about it, and then surrendered a shaky chuckle. “I have no idea,” he admitted, reaching up to thread his fingers through his hair. “So much happened. Can you, uh, can you help? Please?”

Raine’s brow pinched, but she complied. “Why don’t you start with why you went missing? What happened?”

Percy nodded absently, staring at the floor, and then leaned over and dropped his face into his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. “Hera-” His throat closed up, and he gritted his teeth. “Damn it. This is the easy question.”

“Take your time,” Raine coached softly, though the furrow in her brow said he was worrying her.

Percy nodded without looking up, waited for his stomach to stop churning, and tried again. “Hera... kidnapped me. She put me in a coma for six months, then sent me on a quest. We just got back from that, like, the week before last.”

Raine nodded slowly, flipped to somewhere in the middle of her notebook, and started writing. “And how are you doing with that?”

“Raine,” Percy said, causing her to look up again and meet his eyes. He smiled, knowing it didn’t do a thing to hide the anguish in his eyes, too much for him to express in any natural way. “This is the worst I’ve ever been.”

Raine exhaled, then nodded. She considered for a moment, and then prompted, “What do you most need help with right now?”

“I’m having flashbacks,” Percy rushed out. He realized he’d balled up in the middle of his bed, decided that was fine, and dropped his chin onto his knees. “A-and panic attacks, and really bad nightmares. The, the trauma counseling was good, last time. Can we do that again?”

“Of course,” Raine murmured. “Do you have your pictures, or would you like help with that?”

“I made some,” Percy said, glancing at the box. “Not enough, and not the worst ones. I, I couldn’t. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Raine reassured him. “We’ll work up to that. What else? What do you need help with?” Percy’s breath hitched, and he looked away, and after a moment Raine clarified gently, “What are you feeling, Percy? Do you have anger that needs to be dealt with? Do you feel badly about yourself?” With a faint, teasing lilt, she added, “I’ll let you rant against yourself just this once, if it’s the only way you can tell me what you need.”

Maybe she meant it as a joke, but if that was the only out Percy had, he was going to take it.

“I’m useless,” Percy blurted out, shifting to hug himself tightly. “I’m pathetic. I’m, I’m even scared of drowning now, what kind of r-” He choked, covered his mouth, and hated himself even more. “What kind of stupid son of Poseidon is scared of water? I hate everything and I want to kill myself and I should because I deserve to die.”

Raine was blinking at him in undisguised shock. “Percy, were you about to...?”

“Shut up,” he said miserably, and then immediately covered his head with his arms. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I- I feel like shit, Raine. It’s been such an awful fucking year.”

When he looked up again, Raine’s expression had smoothed over into cool calm.

“Alright,” she said softly. “It’s alright. We’ll get through this. You’re going to be okay.”

Percy shrugged. “Sorry I made you work so hard last year for nothing.”

“It was not nothing,” Raine said. “The skills you learned then will help you work through your trauma now, and the relationship we built will help you feel safe doing so. And you knew to come to me right away instead of floundering on your own. This is progress, Percy.”

Percy managed a halfhearted smile. “I guess.” It was too hard to hold. He let it fall. “I just, I don’t want to feel like this.”

“Of course not,” Raine soothed. “You did the right thing, asking for help, and I’m proud of you.” She tapped the notebook. “First thing, let’s help you find ways to calm down.”

“But the flashbacks-” Percy protested, then cut himself off and dropped his chin to his arms, looking defeated.

“I know,” Raine murmured. “I know, I’m sorry. I would love to be able to sit with you and make those go away in a couple of sessions. But we can’t. The process will be slow. So you need to be able to feel yourself again when they do happen.” She paused, and when Percy didn’t respond, continued, “Do you still have your safety plan?” Percy nodded. “Hold on to that. And, Percy...”

She hesitated. Percy’s heart dropped.

“You want me to go back to St. Joan’s,” he said, feeling hollow. Raine’s lips pressed together.

“I won’t force the issue,” she said. “But your mental health is much worse now than it was even when we first met. I’d like to be able to give you the intensive treatment you deserve.”

Percy hiccupped and scrubbed at his eyes furiously. “I want to stay home,” he protested, his voice breaking. “I miss my mom.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, but he couldn’t be upset that it worked. Raine looked away quickly, blinking hard, and it took her a moment to find her voice.

“A compromise,” Raine said. “We’ll meet twice a week for a few months. When you feel up to it, then you can come to St. Joan’s. Alright?”

“Alright,” Percy mumbled, trying to smile. “Thanks.”

Raine smiled back, then looked down. “Let’s talk about seeking support from others first...”

[coollemonsaresour]

The Love That Don't Stop

Pairing: Steve Rogers x daughter reader, Steve Roger x Natasha Romanoff. Warnings: Child abandonment, angst, fluff

Summary: It is Y/n's birthday, and she gets an unexpected present.

Word count: 2632

Request: @maximeevansblog ; The reader (me ) is the daughter of Steve rogenrs and its the readers birtday, and he takes her to the nail en hair salon , and they come back, and in the tower, they have a suprise party for her, and natasha comes with adoption papers and, he wants to her mom and a lotts of fluff thanks, and if its ready you tag me right ( natasha and Steve are dating) thanks. And if its ready you tag me right thanks

Request: Anonymous; can you do a Natasha x black!child!reader? I really liked your other fic. You don't have to if you don't want to.

A/n: I made lots of changes, cause when I went to go post it two weeks ago, my fics were two similar to the other two. The highlighted words are in realtion to the person that requested. Because I wanted to incorporate them into the fic 🙃

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep, BeEeee- you were starting to get agitated, and brought your fist down on your alarm clock, smashing it to pieces. But hey, it’s not your fault, you got your father’s enhancements through genetics, just the perks of being a Rogers.

Still in bed, you let out a yawn, and you began to stretch; mid-stretch that is when it had clicked.

It’s My Birthday.

And that’s when you smelled it. The sweet smell of a birthday tradition you and your dad have had for the past nine years of your life.

One day you showed your dad Steven Universe, and it happened to be the together breakfast episode. So ever since then, every morning of your birthday, you and your dad sit down together and have Together Breakfast.

As soon as you got out of the shower, you threw on some clothes and dash to the Kitchen. As soon as you enter you were met by a horrible sight. Your dad and a redhead kissing.

Nat and your dad have been friends since he had come out of the ice, a became even closer when you were born. Nat was like a mom to you, but you never would say that out loud, cause you didn’t want to make it wired or have her feel uncomfortable.

Your mom was never in the picture, she left you and your dad five days after you were born. Steve had no idea of how to raise a kid, he was completely lost, but then Nat had offered to help him out. The pair worked as such a great team people often thought that they were actually a couple. After years of a long, long sturdy friendship, your dad finally asked the assassin out. So basically they have been dating for about two and a half years now.

“Ew, gross,” you said, dramatically shielding your face from the sight. “ Good Morning Y/n, happy birthday,” they both said. “Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” you said as you sat down at the island stools. “You mean this public display of affection?” he said with a smirk and then pulled Nat in for another kiss. You then shield your face away and then began gagging and reaching.

“So it is….10:30,” you said looking around “Where’s Together Breakfast?” you said whining. “It’s right here you big baby,” Nat said teasing.

“ Cheers to fifteen years of chaotic life,” you said holding up a fork “Cheers!” they said, you each then taking a bite.

“So, Y/n, anything special on thing on the agenda today,” Nat said wriggling her eyebrows. “Not really, I was hoping that we could just go to the spa, then the salon, and just have a chill day.” You said taking another bite. “Oooh, sorry, y/n I can’t, join you today, I have busine- “ you cut Nat off with a loud groan. “ But its’ my birthdayyyyy,” you said with an adorable pout. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said squashing your cheeks together “and I will make it up to you, but for right now-” she paused reaching over the counter to grab her bag “ I have to go,” she said giving you small hug and then turning to give steve a quick peck on the lips, and heading for the door. “ Bye,” Steve said, “bye Nat,” You say still mopping. “Bye babes,” she says giving the two an air kiss before disappearing out the door.

“So, I guess it is just me and you, Y/n,” Steve said as he started cleaning up breakfast. “Ya, I guess so, though I really wanted Nat to come today. Alright, imma got get ready so that we could go,” you said heading back to your room, leaving Steve smiling at your comment about Nat; not that you even realized.

---

“Alright, where here,” Steve said as the uber pulled up to the salon. You both walked in and were greeted by an overlay excited worker. “Hi, my name is Jess, I will be helping you out today” you then gave her a small, that she returned, then started eyeing Steve like he was her last meal. She looked like she was in her early-twenties, pale skin, about 5’3, blonde hair, and brown eyes. Probably working this job to pay off student loans. She turned to Steve, with scrunched eyebrows.

“Are you Captain America?” she asked with a smirk of curiosity, but it looked like she was trying to amuse him before he could answer “yes, he is, and he’s taken, Maybe next time sweetheart, ” you said pulling you dad away from Jess, and toward the receptionist desk.

“ Hi, Appointment for Y/n Rogers,” You say, leaning against the desk. “Right this way.”

---

You were currently sitting in a chair in front of a medium-size mirror, your hands resetting on the armrest, careful not themes up the freshly done nails. Then two Beautistions approached us, then one of them turned to Steve and asked, “are you getting your, hair done too,”

“No”

“Yes”

you and Steve say at the same time.

“Please dad, you can you a new due,” you say, Steve just rapidly shakes his head rapidly no.

“What wrong with the style I have now?” he asked. “You look like an upgraded BackStreet boy,” you reply in full honesty. He then puts his hand over his chest and pretends to be hurt. “You should die it!” one of the Beautistion said, “Great Idea…” you hesitated, search for her name tag.

“Max” she finished for you, seeing what you were trying to do. “If you don’t want to, die your whole head, you can start with highlights,” she said with a smile of excitement. Steve was about to say no until he saw your adorable pleading face. “Fine,” he said putting his hands up in defeat and moving into the salon chair next to yours.

---

After you left the Spa you and your dad headed to central park for a walk, something you two did a lot when you were younger.

You then pulled out your phone and tried to Facetime “Natty Bare 😘” but there was no answer. Which was strange, because Nat always answers your calls, no matter who, what, when, where, and why. Steve saw what you did and smiled, a smug smile. "What are you doing?" Your dad asked

"I wanted to show Nat your blue hair streaks" you said with a pout.

Halfway through the walk your legs were getting tired so you jumped on your dad’s back, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his hip.

“You’re like a pretzel,” he says linking his arms under your knees for better support. “And, you’re like a Dorito,” you tiredly mumble into the crook of his neck, Steve chuckled at the comment.

After walking a little longer you fall asleep. Steve then tightened his grip a little, as if he was giving a backward hug. He just could believe how fast his baby girl was growing up.

---

When they reached the tower’s elevator, Steve placed Y/n down on her feet to wake you.

“Y/n, baby, I need you to wake up for a minute.” “But why,” you mumbled as you leaned against him for support since you were still tired. “Cause if you don’t then this could be a very embarrassing photo.” “what pho-” before you could finish, the elevator doors opened, and then...

“SURPRISE!”

A tired smile then played its role on your face. You looked around and saw everyone there, except Nat.

Mabey she will show up later you thought to yourself.

---

An hour later she still has yet shone up. You asked around and Tony told you that she had a last-minute mission, but that she should be back at any time now. That failed to relieve your nerves.

But those nerves became worse when it was time to cut the cake. You know she was busy but would she really miss your birthday.

Apparently, yes, yes she would. Because the party was over, over an hour ago, and now it was currently 9:30.

Your dad knew that you were really bummed out that Nat missed your party, so he suggested a movie night. Movie nights were special to you and your dad because it became something you two did together, to destress. Just the two of you, Daddy and Daughter.

“Got room for one more.” came a voice that you recognized immediately. “Sorry, this is a two-person couch,” you shot back, anger leaking from your voice, your eyes never leaving the tv screen, ignoring the Russian, as she came into your view.

Steve then paused the movie, causing you to turn your head toward him, annoyed.

“How was the mission,” he asked her.

“I don’t know” She replied accompanied by a tight-lipped smile and shrug. You were about to say something but “Because it is not over yet,” she said looking nervous.

She then pulled out a manila folder and approached you and sat down in between Steve. The Folder was labeled “Confidential” with a red ribbon and bow tied around. The folder She then handed you the folder causing you to look up at them in question.

“Open it,” Steve said pulled Nat toward him sat her in between his legs, and then wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trying to help calm the nerves surging through her.

You carefully untied the ribbon, and open the folder. “On this day Y/n M/n Ro-” You mumbled quietly and then stopped, your face going blank. Your vision then started to get blurry with tears threatening to spill.

“Wow, y-you’re really, um getting good at that face,” Nat said, a million thoughts going through her mind.

“Y/n,” Nat said, voice flooded with worry. When you didn’t look at her, she used her fingers to lift your chin, so that you were looking at her. And when you locked with her that’s when the dames broke, as the tears sprang free from your eyes.

“Oh, no, baby, baby please, don’t cry,” she said trying to wipe away the tears rapidly falling down your face. “ I understand if you don’t want to go through with it,” she said wiping the tear that fell from her face.

“We don-”

She was cut off with the air being knocked out of her, as you crashed into her wrapping your arms around her torso, burying your face in her stomach, sobbing. She then wrapped her arms around you and held you close, one hand rubbing up and down your back trying to calm you, the other gently twirling some of your coils with her fingers.

Nat always felt like you were her child, even some people in public would mistake her for your mom, But she didn’t know how you felt.

Nat was so nervous that her soul was shaking. She knew how the topic of a Mother, is one that stings for you.

---

*Flashback*

Nat POV

I pulled up to Y/n’s school, today was her first day of Kindergarten, and in the morning she was so excited. That morning I bruised her hair into two puffs, curled her sideburns, and she then wore a Captain America shirt, with joggers and light-up sneakers. I swear she was the cutest four-year-old in the world.

I then saw Y/n exit the school, but my smile flattened when I saw the sad expression on her face. I then hopped out of the car and head toward her, as I get closer it looks as if she was crying. When I get to her I pick her up and place her on my hip, and instead of her giving me a hug like she usually does she just tucks her head into my neck.

“Hey, baby,” I saw trying to cheer her up “You okay,” I ask she just nodded and let out a little sigh. Then I hear laughing voices and I turn my head to see a group of second graders.

“See I told you to see was adopted, her parents probably didn’t love her,” one of them said.

“ There is no way Captain America is her dad If that lady is her mom, they’re both white, and she’s not”

“She just a baby and a lier,”

“ She probably doesn’t even have a mom,” another said laughing, causing Y/n to sniffle.

I then cleared my throat, successfully grabbing the attention of the bullies, sending them a death glare, and then headed to the car, and then buckled Y/n into her car seat. I then sat in the driver’s seat and adjusted the rearview mirror so that we could look at each other.

“Don’t listen to those, mouth breathers Y/n you hear me.” Y/n still didn’t look at me her eyes trained on her fingers fiddling in her lap.

“Um, Nat, umm, where is my mom, and w-why, um, why does she, not love m-me?” Y/n said with a sniffle. Her question made me want to go up to those kids and beat the shit out of them.

“ well y/n your mom had to do something important and should be back soon,” I had to lie to her because I didn’t know how to explain to a four-year-old, that her mother abandoned her and her dad because she thinks giving life to the sweetest little girl was a mistake.

Like what did Маленький шар совершенства, ever do to her.

“But Y/n, let me tell you this, Your dad loves you, so much and would let anything bad happen to you, you know that right detka,” she then nodded her head, sniffled, and wiped her tears.

“And I love you too, milashka, and I will never stop loving you.” I love you, Nat” “Now how about we get some Ice cream annnnnd, not tell Steve, because he is going to be mad because you haven’t eaten any dinner yet,” I said starting the car and putting a smile on Y/n’s face.

How could a mother ever leave a child like this, so sweet, innocent, and pure?

*Flashback over*

---

No one’s POV

“So is that a yes, baby?” Nat asked nervously that you might say no because you were crying.

You just nodded your head yes, as Nat hugged you tighter.

“Oh, dad I forgot to tell you, while we were out...I, um, need a new alarm clock,” you said with a nervous chuckle.

“Again,” they both said, not surprised at all.

“Mabey you should use your phone, you’re always pretty careful with that,” Nat said bopping your nose and squishing your cheeks together. You then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. You went to the contacts and changed “Natty 😘” to “Mama🔥”.

“What’s my contact name Y/n?” Your dad asked.

“❤️Captain🤍Crunch💙,” you said sliding your phone back into your pocket and laying back down on Nat’s stomach.

“ I love you, mama,” you said nuzzling further into her

“I love to baby, always has and don’t plan on stopping”

*Bonus*

(Nat and Steve in the kitchen after putting Y/n to bed, because she fell asleep during the rest of the movie because you were tired after crying)

“So...what’s up with the hair, “ Nat said sipping on her tea, taking a step closer to Steve. He then shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head, with a goofy smile. “Uhh, Y/n thought I needed a new look,” He responds shaking the colorful hair from side to side. “Well, I like it,” she says as she runs her hands through his hair, “ Oh, do you,” Steve said placing his hands on her hips. “Yea…I do,” she says standing on her tippy-toe, kissing his lips. Steve then leaned more into the kiss. They went from kiss to make out sess, really quick.

“How about we don’t do this in the kitchen,”

“Mmhm”

---

@the-bau-quinjet

[sleeperswakewriting]

Their son clingy phase started a war with Levi for Petra’s affection. Both won’t back down cause like father, like son 😆

probably not what you asked for, but I had this image in my head before I went to sleep. a spin off of Heart Like Yours (this is not the definitive ending I had in mind) where Petra has another kid 18 years after Ollie. Ollie is pissed at his dad for endangering his mother, and the Ackermans duke it out.

Rating: T

Word Count: 800

Intellectually, Ollie knows his parents have sex. At eighteen years old, acquainted with the world at this point, and just a few months shy of attending the local art university. Intending to live with his parents until graduation—after all, he can’t leave his poor mother alone since dad went away on expeditions—he is beginning to second guess his decision. 

Fireplace stoked, ottoman drawn flush with the loveseat, his mother reclines back with her bare feet propped up. Swollen at eight months of pregnancy, his father is on the ground, massaging her, while they exchange whispers. His mother’s face is red, either from the heat or other things by the grin his father is trying to hide and with a tap of his foot, Ollie clears his throat. 

“I’m right here, you know.” 

Perking up, Petra waves him over, extending a hand. He goes to her side, interlacing his fingers with hers, and he feels his chest swell as he eyes his mother’s large stomach. He knows his parents have been wanting another child since they got back together; at this point, he can hardly remember a time without his father. Thirty-six isn’t elderly, but his mother is on the older side as far as pregnancies go. Ollie made a point to attend all of her doctor’s appointments, holding her hand when dad couldn’t be there, and he dutifully took notes to recall them later. 

“Can I get you any tea?” he asks, swinging their arms. Levi mutters something under his breath, but Ollie ignores him, his demeanor icier since they announced the pregnancy. If anything happened to mom because dad couldn’t keep it in his pants—

Petra smiles and pats his arm. “That would be great, sweetie. You know how I like to take it.” 

“Oi, get me some too while you’re at it,” Levi barks, and Ollie doesn’t flinch. 

“Get it yourself.” 

Levi pauses and gets up from where he’s kneeling, glowering. “What was that tone?” he hisses. 

“You heard me,” Ollie says, standing up straight and heads for the kitchen. Taller than both of his parents by nearly a foot (a sore spot for his father, though Ollie knows he’s secretly proud), he inherited all of his father’s traits except his cheeks were slightly rounder, an attribute of his mother’s. Bangs a bit shaggier, he adopted Levi’s undercut, and while he wasn’t as muscled as him since he wasn’t in the military, his skinny frame often had people confused for Levi. Eyes also a hair lighter, and preferring a button-down than stiff suits, Ollie wonders who his new sibling will take after. 

Finishing off the tea, with a drop of honey and a slice of lemon, Ollie pads back over and places the saucer and cup on the end table. “Here you go, mama.” 

Levi makes a face and storms off to the kitchen. “Would have it killed you to make another cup?”

“Would have it killed you to not ravage my mother like an animal?”

“Ollie!” Petra scolds, though there’s laughter in the wrinkles in her eyes. She lowers her voice while she brushes some of Ollie’s bangs back. Giving him a thoughtful look, she muses, “What happened to the little boy that idolized his father?”

Leaning into her touch, Ollie pouts. “I still love him, but I’m worried.” He looks down at her belly. “What if something goes wrong? You’re older, you know. At this point, the doctors said you should be resting more. Maybe I should skip orientation so I can run errands tomorrow—“

“Ollie,” her voice soothes. “I’ll be fine. I gave birth to you at home. This time we have a hospital and doctors right down the road.”

He continues frowning. “I want to go over the birth plan with the midwife again.” 

Petra finishes off her tea and scoots over to the far right side of the loveseat. She pats beside her and Ollie follows, squishing himself against his mother and he curls over to her side like a cat. With his long legs sticking out, he knows he looks ridiculous, but the softness of his mother’s hair soothes him while she runs her fingers up and down his undercut. 

“I’ll be fine,” she assures him. “I have you and Papa.” She laces her pinky with his. “Together forever, remember?”

Ollie forces a smile and shakes their joined hands, though his heart aches with apprehension. Levi returns, teacup in hand, his fingers splayed along the rim and he snorts while noting Ollie’s odd position. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Piss off,” Ollie says, but Levi merely chuckles and makes himself comfortable beside his little family. 

She’ll be fine, Ollie tells himself over and over. Even if she isn’t as strong as me and Papa.

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[pillage-and-lute]

The Stars Are Not Wanted Now

Was this among my list of WIPs I posted recently? No. Not at all. Because it popped into my head fully formed and hurt my feelings so I decided to make it everyone’s problem.

TW: Believed character death (not real) ,grief, discussions of hallucinations.

Title cheerfully stolen from W. H. Auden’s Funeral Blues

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It took Geralt almost an hour to realize what he’d done. He’d sat and stewed and wished his tearducts would give him more catharsis than a handful of small drops. He wanted to sob, really cry, eyes red and face wet, but his body let him down. He stared for a while at the dirt. At the footprints in the dirt.

They weren’t his. They were from Jaskier’s stupid shiny boots. Impractical boots that gave him blisters, but he’d only had enough money for one pair and he needed ‘court boots’ apparently. And he was walking down the mountain in those silly boots and a doublet that wouldn’t keep him warm as the mountain air chilled with night and Geralt had just let him go. Geralt had made him go. He didn’t have any gear, they shared gear and Geralt had made him leave.

Geralt’s slow, witcher heart beat double time as he realized he might have murdered his bard. 

Roach huffed at him for being gone so long but he shushed her and loaded her up as quickly as he could. He needed her, and Jaskier needed him.

Geralt followed the footprints like a bloodhound, eyes and senses searching, but his mind wandered behind. Their relationship was such an odd one, Jaskier always traveling ahead or staying behind. Bards needed audiences and witchers needed wilderness, but they were never more than a few days from eachother, and every town Geralt went into he could be sure Jaskier was there. There had been exceptions of course, when bardic festivals or court appointments swayed Jaskier’s path, but he always came back. It was down to the separate nature of Geralt’s Path, with the capital P, and Jaskier’s path. Bards traveled between towns, straight shots, rarely sleeping rough, so his bard didn’t need gear, and it would only slow him down. Witchers wandered, fighting a monster here, collecting potion ingredients there, and coming to towns only for contracts and coin.

Geralt’s eyes scanned every inch of the track, never missing the boot prints, noting the depth of them, the scent of sadness lingering. A human would have missed the single, red thread caught on a bush, the shade of Jaskier’s stupid, too thin doublet. Geralt’s fingers plucked it from a branch. 

He remembered how, in the first years of their acquaintance, he’d watched the bard walk away each time, believing he’d never see him again. But Jaskier had always come back. He’d circle around or wait in the next tiny village, playing ditties for barmaids and he’d greet Geralt with a smile that struck something sensitive and previously well protected in Geralt’s chest. Slowly Geralt had started expecting Jaskier’s presence and those treasured smiles.

It had come with detriments, that was true, Jaskier talked so much Geralt wondered how he found the air and he was foppish and disinclined to wake before noon. It was just that, so slowly that Geralt didn’t know how it had happened, those faults found favor in Geralt’s eyes. 

And now he’d told Jaskier he was a burden. That he wanted him gone. As Geralt had grown to treasure his bard he’d stopped expecting Jaskier would leave him and started fearing he would instead. Geralt had just been the creator of his own nightmares, doing to their friendship what wind, weather, time, and age could not. 

That was the thing, Geralt thought as his eyes scanned the trail, near invisible in the dark. Age. Jaskier was forty at least. Crow’s feet, Yennefer had said. He would have to leave Geralt sooner or later, settle in some city and see him only if Geralt sought him out. The impending end to their precious routine rolled Geralt’s stomach and took over his thoughts. Now, though, well, how weak was a forty year old human? Strong enough to go down the mountain in the dark? It seemed so, which was frustrating. Geralt was going as fast as he could while tracking Jaskier’s every footstep, but even his magical eyes only saw so much in total darkness. Jaskier was hiking blind. 

A new scent drifted to Geralt’s nose. Wolf. A mixture of fur and wilderness and wet dog. 

And blood. 

Geralt let go of Roach’s reigns, sprinting as best he could, letting his nose lead him. He could smell blood. He followed it into the trees, crashing through the brush, careless of the briars that tore at him. He didn’t even smell his own blood, it didn’t matter, he didn’t care. All his senses narrowed down to the smell of Jaskier’s blood and...

and his eyes saw red. a torn doublet,

Geralt lurched forward, hoping, praying that it didn’t mean what he knew it meant. He clutched the rags to him and he stumbled. His foot hit something. 

A boot. A stupid, shiny boot and it reeked of blood. Geralt let it fall from numb fingers. A tiny beam of moonlight struggled down, gleaming dully off of leather. Geralt knelt before the instrument case, smelling blood on the strap, feeling the contours of it. When he lifted it it was heavy. Jaskier had died alone on a vicious mountainside, devoid of his beautiful doublet and his lute. 

Geralt felt a puff of breath on the back of his head. Roach had followed after him, picking her way through the forest in the wake of his mad dash. He pressed his face into her mane and finally felt tears flood his cheeks. She settled beside him when he no longer had enough water to cry and he just stayed there, knelt between tree roots and bushes, cradling the lute and a scrap of doublet that still smelled like chamomile. 

He didn’t move until dawn.

When the runny light of morning came Geralt just moved on. Whatever had happened to Jaskier’s body, he couldn’t see it. Of course the bard deserved a proper burial, and Geralt cursed his weakness all the way down the mountain, but there mightn’t be much of Jaskier left to find. Geralt felt sure that if he saw his friend like that he’d simply lay down next to him and die too. 

He already felt like he might. 

Geralt moved on, physically. He moved around, slinging Jaskier’s lute up with his saddlebags. He wandered between towns and fought monsters, going north in a roundabout way. Going home. 

Kaer Morhen was going to be cold that year, it always was, and Jaskier was never there, but without the hope of Jaskier’s smile in the spring the cold seemed to have taken residence in his soul.

Geralt wasn’t eating well. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than chew a few pieces of dried meat. He drank a lot and didn’t sleep and took too many risks when fighting monsters. It was foolish, he knew, it was how witchers died, getting sloppy like that. He did it anyway. And on the rare nights he did sleep, he clutched the tattered piece of doublet. The chamomile scent was slowly fading and Geralt feared when it left entirely. It and the doublet were all he had.

In light of all of this, Geralt wasn’t that surprised when he finally lost it. He heard music in a tavern and it sounded like Jaskier. Every bard sounded like Jaskier now. There were no instruments, just an achingly familiar voice. Of course, Geralt still had the lute. 

When he walked into the tavern and saw a bard turn, saw Jaskier smile wide at him, Geralt didn’t even flinch. His medallion was still on his chest. This was no ghost, he had simply lost his mind. 

Geralt sat at the bar without looking away from the apparition, and his heart swelled as it sauntered towards him. Jaskier looked so lifelike, so alive. There wasn’t a scratch on him. He was exactly the bard Geralt remebered, no crows feet to be seen. He was dressed in blue, not unlike when they had first met. Geralt’s heart twisted as he remebered all things he’d said, and, even worse, the things he hadn’t. His heart was thundering in his ears, blood rushing, everything else tuned out. It didn’t matter that Geralt had gone crazy, Jaskier was here and so beautiful and Geralt loved him so much that it hurt. 

“Mind if I join you?” The hallucination said. Geralt just stared. He wasn’t going to talk to it, there were enough rumors about witchers without the townsfolk knowing he was crazy.

“C’mon, now, Geralt,” the faux Jaskier said. “You wouldn’t keep a man with bread in his pants waiting.” 

Geralt just stared as the bard pulled a half-eaten roll from his pocket and winked. The hallucination stopped smiling, shoulders slumping. “I’ll go,” it said. 

“Stay,” Geralt whipsered immediately. He was alright with going crazy because this last bit of comfort was so tantalizing, so real Geralt could almost reach out and touch. “Please,” he said, even quieter. “I’m sorry.” 

Jaskier beamed and sat and ate and Geralt wondered idly who the bartender served in place of the man he knew couldn’t be there. 

Geralt had thought the hallucination would be gone in the morning, but the vision of Jaskier was standing by Roach the next day, a travel bag over one shoulder. Okay, Geralt’s brain was in it for the long haul. Fine, but there had to be rules. That momentary weakness last night couldn’t happen again. He needed to get to Kaer Morhen soon if he wanted to beat the snows and there could be no distractions. So, no talking to the bard.

It was very hard not to talk to the hallucination. It traipsed and danced and prodded and teased, but when it got not even a hum in response the exhuberance dimmed. That was horrible. Geralt didn’t need the reminder that he’d hurt Jaskier’s feelings, he’d already killed him. The proof was walking right beside him.

Something in Geralt felt healed, though. It was why he didn’t try to fix this. Having Jaskier, even if it wasn’t real, was nice. He wondered what would happen if he reached out and kissed the bard. It was his hallucination after all. The thought, though, that he would reach out to Jaskier, who looked so real and alive, and feel nothing but air....Geralt would rather go through the trials again. It would be like losing Jaskier all over. 

One night, when the hallucination reached out for the instrument strung on Roach’s saddle Geralt tensed. Some part of him believed that if this shade of Jaskier was reunited with his beloved lute he’d go, dissappear and leave Geralt all alone again. He didn’t, of course. This wasn’t a spirit, Jaskier wasn’t tied to this realm by the lute. He was a figment of Geralt’s tortured mind. 

He played Toss a Coin and Her Sweet Kiss. As far as Geralt knew, Jaskier hadn’t finished the latter, but his imagination finished it anyway. It hurt to hear Jaskier singing about love unrequited, it was obviously about Yennefer but that...that wasn’t Geralt’s love. Geralt’s love had be eaten by a mountain. Red sky at dawning, Geralt had had enough of red. It didn’t put him in mind of Yennefer’s lips or of rubies or harpies or anything else, but Jaskier’s doublet, the scrap still hidden in Geralt’s bags, and some words. “See you around, Geralt”

The apparition continued to play, but Geralt turned his face away. Maybe this was torturing him for killing his only blessing. 

At the crossroads of the northern mountains Geralt paused. He had been walking besde Roach, resting her for the trek up the Killer, with Jaskier’s lute across the saddlebags and his hallucination trailing along behind. This was where Jaskier always parted from him in the autumn, and the hallucination stepped forward, reaching toward the lute on Roach’s back. Geralt felt ice down his spine. 

His hallucination was going to leave, of course it was, Geralt had never brought Jaskier to the keep, but to be there all winter without this small, fake comfort would kill him.  

Geralt wrapped his hand around the lute strap, ready to pull it from the nonexistant fingers of his dead companion. “No,” he said. 

He slung the lute over his shoulder and walked toward the Killer, praying that his failing mind wouldn’t choose now to become sane. To his relief, the hallucination followed. 

On the way to the keep the vision changed into a warmer cloak and gloves and Geralt marveled at the detail. He wondered if he wasn’t dead himself, or asleep and simply dreaming, but he kept going up the trail, hearing the crunch of Jaskier’s shiny boots on frost. The vision talked and Geralt loved its voice and cursed the sound.

Night was falling when they reached the gate of the keep, and Geralt could see three lit lanterns, one for each brother and another for Vesemir. He paused, watching the lights come closer. He drew a breath, in through his nose, smelling pine and chamomile, out through his mouth. He couldn’t let the others know. He had to pretend that the ghost of all his regrets wasn’t doggin his steps. He flexed his fingers on the strap of the lute. 

“Don’t just stand there, idiot, get in here, it’s cold,” Lambert called. Eskel smiled at Geralt and took Roach’s reigns, cooing to her as Geralt followed Vesemir and Lambert into the hall. 

The fire was lit and warmth seeped into Geralt’s numb fingers and toes. Vesemir raised an eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce your guest?”

“What?”

“Vesemir shook his head. “Gods almighty, Geralt, I didn’t raise you boys with much manners but I thought you had some.” Then Vesemir turned to where the vision of Jaskier stood. “You Geralt’s bard?” he asked.

“There’s no one there, Ves,” Geralt hazarded. 

Vesemir scowled at him. “Stupid prank to play on your old teacher. Never get an apprentice, lad, they’ll take your sanity and all your time.” That last part wasn’t aimed at Geralt. It was like someone had poured fire into Geralt’s veins.

“You can see him too?” he asked, quietly. 

“What game are you--” Vesemir began, but Jaskier’s eyes had gone soft with understanding.

“Oh, Geralt,” he whispered. 

Geralt stretched out one shaking hand and caressed his bard’s chilly cheek. Jaskier leaned his face into it and brushed a kiss against the palm. “I’m so sorry, dear heart,” he said, stepping closer to Geralt and wrapping his arms around his neck. “I should have known something was off.”

“You were dead,” Geralt said into the crook of his neck. “There was blood and your doublet was shredded, and you left your lute behind.” 

“You truly thought...all this time? Geralt, I thought you knew,” Jaskier said, warm breath brushing Geralt’s ear. To his surprise, Geralt was crying, tiny, bare tears and shoulders shaking. 

“Knew you were alive?”

“That too, but dearest, I’m a changeling, on the mountain I...I was so sad I just wanted to run away, and I was so tired, so I became a wolf.”

“Changeling...you’re fae?”

“Only half,” Jaskier said. “Or less, I’m not sure, but I can change into all the animal of the forest.”

“You never have.”

“It’s a painful feeling and you can’t play a lute with wings or paws but I was overwhelmed so I just...oh darling I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think--”

“I smelled blood.”

“My boots, you told me to buy the practical ones, but I didn’t listen.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s and felt the warmth of him. “You’re alive,” he said. “You’re real and you’re alive.”

“You thought all this time I was a ghost?”

“A hallucination,” Geralt said. “A good dream, or torture for killing my...”

“Killing your what, darling?” 

“Killing my love. Letting my greatest blessing be taken from my hands. I thought it was penance, my love.”

Jaskier leaned in and kissed Geralt softly. His lips were soft and perfect and too chapped to be a dream. His breath tasted like the jerky they’d eaten on the trail and it was real. When he pulled away Geralt leaned back in and kissed him again. 

“Nothing I said on the mountain was true,” he mumbled against dry lips. “Not a word. I love you more than life itself.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier said. “And I won’t leave again, not even if you tell me to.”

“I won’t,” Geralt said. “Never again.”