#‘but cate you have to lower your expectations’ no I do not. my expectation is you have to make me happier than I can make myself.

[francesderwent]

I think part of the reason I don’t want to do the online dating, young adult groups, go-out-and-meet-people, always-say-yes thing is I’m afraid if I do too much of it, it will erode my standards. I’ll get used to going on dates, get used to having someone filling that space in my life, but most of the fillers will be terrible and so when someone comes along who’s merely not-terrible I’ll be so relieved that I’ll think that’s good. but it won’t be good.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

Part 1: New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[insolemi]

New Beginnings

cate dunlap (gen v) x (hopefully)gn!reader

summary: cate's life takes a series of turns when she gets to God U, and you're at the center of all of them

genre: fluff, potential angst

inclusions: language, awkward situations, touchstarved and socially awkward!cate, overly-excited and outgoing!reader, ooc cate fs, this is more a few different scattered scenes that it is a full, single plot fic so be aware, my first attempt at a fic so please lower expectations

wc: 4.4k

hiiii… y’all i am so sorry this took me seventy years to get posted, i had the strangest series of events happen, but here it is and i hope you enjoy it !!

Godolkin is an entirely new environment.

It's not like Cate hadn't known that going into it, hadn’t known that her life would be completely different from the moment Indira Shetty had shown up in her room and offered her a way out of her childhood bedroom turned prison. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to repay her for that. For getting her out of that house, out from under the echoing emptiness of the four walls of her bedroom and the occasional sound of her online homework videos.

For being the reason she met you. Her pretty, sweet little roommate.

Move-in day hadn’t been particularly good or bad, the large crowds of people and their chattering were overwhelming but calming at the same time, knowing the voices weren’t in her head but out loud, around her this time.

She made her way down the hall, brushing through smaller crowds of students and their parents as she counted the different numbers above the doors. 415, 417, 419. She reads the number, coming to a slow stop outside of the dorm room with the number written on the piece of paper in her hand, her name labeled right next to your name. The thought alone of it makes her nauseous, having to share a bedroom with an entirely new person she’d never met before and hope that they get along. 

Whatever. It’s fine. She can do this. All she has to do is walk into the room, introduce herself to you, and try her best to not embarrass herself. That’s easy enough, no? It’s not like its rocket science or a hostage situation (although the way her heart is beating loudly in her ears might say differently), all she has to do is walk in and say ‘Hi, I’m Cate’. 

She stands in the doorway, just staring at your back for a moment, her eyes wide, the leather of her gloves creaking around the strap of the bag she’s holding in her hands (one of the only things she’d even brought with her) as she works up the courage to just open her mouth and talk as the only thing running through her mind is that everything is fine, she's got this, all she has to do is say–

Fuck.

The second her mouth opens, you turn to face her from the desk you’d been arranging things on and any words she’d been carefully planning in her head die on the tip of her tongue immediately at the sight of you. 

She hardly has any time to let the thought cross her mind and register it before you’re in her space, introducing yourself with an excited note to your sweet voice and wrapping your arms around her in a brief hug, your chin pressed against the side of her shoulder, the palm of your hands braced on the back of her shoulders, the other hand around her neck. You pull back from her and rest your hands above the back of her elbows, your face still in her direct orbit as you smile at her, your mouth opening to continue speaking. “You’re Cate, right? My roommate?” There’s a pretty little sparkle to your eye that she has to tear her own away from.

She can’t think about anything but the sound of your voice ringing in her ears and the feeling of the heat of your hands over her sleeves, but she somehow manages to get the words out of her mouth to finally introduce herself. “Uh, yeah, hi,” she forces out, her head spinning so fast that she can’t think properly and she stumbles back a step, pulling out of your grasp, unable to handle the warmth of your touch. She awkwardly tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm, um… Cate.” It’s been so long since anyone touched her so enthusiastically, without any ounce of hesitation, and now here you are, all smiles and casual touches, and she can barely keep it together.

But she does. She doesn’t want to come across as weird, a freak, so she smiles and nods along with your excited chattering, your energy far off the charts of anything near the realm of what she’s used to. “Thank god,” you laugh, clapping your hands together as you look her over for probably the first real time since she entered the room. “I was so worried I was gonna get a total bitch, but you seem sweet, so, again, thank god.” Another bell-ringing laugh.

“You have a nice laugh.” Fuck. Again. Her and her big mouth. “Sorry! I didn’t–”

“It's fine! Thank you," you keep the pretty smile on your face as you continue to look over Cate, a tint to your cheeks appearing briefly before you’re back to talking, something she’s starting to get the sense you do a lot (not that she minds, not if it means she gets to keep hearing your voice). "Oh, your hair is so gorgeous," you lift a hand from where it’s clasped in front of your chest to briefly lift a strand of Cate's blonde hair, admiring the clips she has in place.

Cate feels her pulse quicken. “Uh... thanks. It’s just, you know... hair,” she laughs nervously, unsure what else to say. Your touch, though brief, leaves behind a warmth that spreads through her chest, and it’s making her head spin

You smile brightly, seemingly unaware of how much you're affecting her. “Y’know, you and me? We’re going to be best friends. I can already tell.” 

Cate’s face flushes instantly. "Oh, um... yeah! That’d be cool." Her voice cracks slightly as she tries to match your enthusiasm, and she winces inwardly. You sound so sure of yourself, have so much conviction in your voice that Cate can hardly do anything other than believe your words. It’s overwhelming, in the best way, but she feels like she’s drowning in it. She’s not used to this kind of attention directed at her. You’re all smiles, your energy is infectious, and it’s making her feel out of place for not being able to respond how she wants to. She knows what she wants to say, but that’s almost never what leaves her mouth.

Still in the back of her head, there’s a wiggling part that kinda smarts at what you say. Best friends. That’s exactly what she needs, she thinks, a genuine best friend, though that thought directed at you makes her chest tighten in a way she doesn’t know how to handle, for reasons she doesn’t want to think about.

“You seem... really sweet, too,” Cate admits, biting her lip the moment the words leave her mouth. She hates how transparent she’s being but with you... it’s hard to hide how much she’s already attached.

Your smile grows even warmer. “Good! ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Cate.”

Cate lets out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the overwhelming flood of emotions that sentence sparks. "Yeah... I’m okay with that." More than okay, she thinks, but she can’t say that out loud.

—

It’s late, and the two of you are sitting on the loveseat couch in your dorm room that you’d somehow managed to acquire (somehow being you sweet-talking a frat boy out of one, not that anyone else needed to know that), mid-way through watching some animated movie Cate can’t remember the name of but you’d forced her to watch (‘forced’ meaning you asked her once to watch it and she caved) once you realized she’d never seen it. You’ve been leaning against Cate’s side for most of it, your head resting on her shoulder, legs thrown over the arm of the couch, and she’s been tense the whole time, back ramrod straight, trying her best not to move too much, not to let her nerves show. She’s terrified that if she moves, you’ll realize how fast her heart is racing.

It’s silent in the room until you let out a soft sigh, shifting slightly where you’re laying basically your entire body against her side. Cate can’t help but somehow stiffen up more. This doesn’t escape your notice, just like anything else that has to do with her, and you lift your head, turning it to look at her.

“You okay?” The concern in your voice makes her heart squeeze and she makes a conscious effort to relax a little. 

“Yeah,” she slips you a tight smile, her eyes darting back and forth between the screen and your face. More than okay if she’s being honest.

You nod, a soft hum of contentment leaving your lips as you lay your head back down on her shoulder, pulling your legs closer to you on the couch and loosely wrapping an arm around hers. Cate’s breath hitches despite her best efforts to focus on anything other than your bare palm on her arm. “Yeah,” you echo, the sound full of a kind of relaxation Cate desperately wishes she could hit.

It falls silent in the room again, the neon colors on the screen glowing brightly around the room, casting long shadows where the light can’t quite reach. There’s almost something either poetic or ironic in that, Cate thinks. Maybe she could figure it out if she could think about something other than the heat of your skin or your breath fanning out over her arm, your eyes still focused solely on the screen.

She feels like she should say something more, but the words get stuck in her throat, but all she can think about is how warm you feel against her, how much she wants this moment to last forever.

You glance up at her again, noticing the distant look on her face, and nudge her with a playful grin. "You’re still watching, right?" you tease, your voice light but laced with affection. “This is my favorite part.”

Cate blinks, momentarily startled, then forces a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. Totally.” But in reality, she hasn’t processed a single frame of the movie. How could she, when you’re so close? When your every movement sends ripples of warmth through her?

The movie continues to play, but all Cate can focus on is how natural it feels, how right it feels, sitting next to you like this.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you two moved in together, and Cate is slowly starting to feel more comfortable around you. She’s still a little awkward, old habits die hard (especially ones like hers), but she’s not as jumpy as she used to be. Especially not now when, where there used to be hard spots of tension in every silence between you two, are now small, quiet moments that are more comforting than they are terrifying.

So today, when you suggested grabbing coffee at the campus café, Cate agreed. Even if the thought of spending time alone with you, even if it is in a public space, still makes her heart race, she just couldn’t find it in herself to say no this time. She’s sitting across from you, absently stirring her drink as you talk about anything and everything, your hands doing most of the speaking for you when you bring it up. 

“So…” She can already tell you think you’re taking a risk bringing it up, which makes her stomach twist a little. “There’s this little hangout thing – not a party!” You reassure immediately, hand coming up to stop any protests she might have, already well aware that parties aren’t her thing; too many people, too much noise, too much of a risk of something bad happening. “It’s not a party, it’s just, like, five or six people, I swear.”

“You should come with me!” you say, your eyes lighting up. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” It’s a long shot, asking her to go to a party (or anything, really), and you both know it, but you never skip asking her anyway, despite her numerous rejections. It makes her feel… warm? That you never give up on her. That alone makes her reconsider her usual knee-jerk reaction of saying ‘no’.

Her fingers toy with the rim of her cup, buying her a moment to think. “I don’t know...” she begins, her voice hesitant. “Parties aren’t really my thing.” She glances up at you, biting her lip. “But... maybe.”

You nearly spill your coffee as you sit up straighter, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on your face. “Wait—really? You’d come?”

Cate feels her heart skip a beat at your genuine surprise and excitement. A small, tentative smile pulls at her lips, and for once, she lets herself enjoy the idea. “Yeah,” she shrugs, trying to sound casual even though her heart is racing. “Why not, right?”

You grin from ear to ear, letting out a little squeal of excitement, making her feel a little braver for saying yes. “This is awesome, Cate! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She hopes you’re right.

—

Later that night, Cate stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her shirt nervously for what feels like the hundredth time. She’s never been comfortable with events like this, even if it is nothing big, just a small gathering with some people from your class like you’d said. Despite the anxiety gnawing at her, she’s determined to at least try, especially since it means spending more time with you outside of classes. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt, her eyes lingering on her gloves.

Your soft knock on the open closet door pulls her from her thoughts. You poke your head around it, a playful grin on your face. “You ready?”

Nope. She is absolutely in no way prepared for this. At all. Cate takes a deep breath, her lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Yup,” she chirps, though there’s still audible uncertainty in her voice.

You walk over to her, gently reaching out to fix a stray strand of hair that’s fallen out of place. Your fingers barely graze her skin, but it’s enough to send her pulse racing. “You look great, Cate.”

Cate’s breath catches at the compliment, and she gives a soft, nervous laugh. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “You too. I mean, you also look great.” She's not entirely sure that covers it.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

For some reason, that promise makes all the difference. Cate takes another steadying breath and follows you to the door, feeling just a little braver with you by her side.

Maybe tonight, she’ll finally stop holding herself back.

—

A few weeks later and the two of you are lying on your beds, the lights dimmed, just talking about anything and everything. These late-night conversations have become a nightly routine since moving in together, and Cate is starting to feel like she can really open up to you in ways she hasn’t with anyone else. There's something about the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your voice, and the way you listen without judgment that makes her feel... safe, she thinks. 

You stretch out, letting your arm dangle off the edge of the bed, glancing over at her. “Hey, Cate,” you ask softly, “what’s your family like?”

Cate hesitates, staring up at the ceiling. She’s never been good at talking about them—the weight of her past always feels too heavy, too personal. But with you, it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. There's something about the way you ask, like you’re genuinely interested, but not pushing her to share more than she’s comfortable with. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to reveal, but the silence that follows your question is patient, giving her room to breathe.

She finally speaks, her voice low. “My family’s... complicated.” She shifts slightly on her bed, pulling at the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t really talk to them much anymore.”

You turn your head to look at her, your voice soft and full of understanding. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

Cate swallows, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. She doesn’t want to go too deep, doesn’t want to drag the mood down, so she shrugs, trying to make it seem like it’s not that big of a deal. “It’s okay. I’m... kinda used to it by now.” Her voice wavers slightly, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

The room falls into a thoughtful silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the unspoken weight of everything Cate has never said aloud. You don’t push for more, just let her words hang in the air, like you’re giving her the space to share if she wants to. After a long pause, you break the silence with a soft chuckle.

“You know, I think we’re kind of like family now,” you say, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. You roll over on your side, facing her, your face half-lit by the soft glow from the window. “I mean, we live together, we spend a lot of time together, grocery shopping... pretty much checks all the boxes, right?”

Cate turns her head slightly, surprised by your words. The idea catches her off-guard, but not in a bad way. It’s just... new. “Yeah?” she murmurs, her voice uncertain. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you say with a grin. “And you don’t have to think about any of that shit with your family right now. You've got me.” You scoot a little closer on your bed, giving her an earnest look. “So... if you ever wanna, like, talk about it, I’m here. But if not, that’s cool too. It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

Cate’s heart skips a beat. It’s not the words themselves that get to her—it’s the sincerity behind them. The way you say it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes her feel like maybe she’s not as alone as she thought.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I guess.”

You flash her another warm smile, your voice light. “See? I’m not so bad to have around, right?”

Cate chuckles softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Eh, you’re alright,” she teases gently, heaving an exasperated sounding sigh. “Guess I could do worse.”

You laugh, a playful glint in your eye. “Wow, thanks, I think? High praise coming from you.”

Cate rolls her eyes, but there’s no denying the smile that’s still on her face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you reply, your grin widening as you settle back into your pillow. The easy banter between you both feels like a balm, soothing the heaviness of the earlier conversation.

—

You and Cate are sitting on the bed, talking like usual, but there’s something different about today—something a little heavier in the air. Cate’s been quieter than normal, her gloved hands resting tensely in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric. You can tell something’s bothering her, the way her gaze keeps flicking down to her hands, then back up at you, as if she’s debating something in her head.

You wait for her to speak, sensing that there’s something she wants to say but is struggling to get out. Finally, you reach over and place your hand on top of hers, your thumb tracing gentle circles over the soft leather. “Cate... what’s going on?” Your voice is full of care, inviting her to share what’s going through her head, even when you both know you already know.

It’s silent in the room for a moment before you speak again. “It’s about your gloves, right?” A gross underestimation and you both know it. “You don’t have to wear those if you don’t want to. Not around me.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she pulls her hands away instinctively. “I– I do,” she whispers, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “You don’t understand. If I touch someone, tell them to do something... they have to. I can’t just take it back. What if I say something I don’t mean? What if I hurt you without even realizing it?”

Your expression softens as you scoot closer, your knees brushing against hers. “I trust you, Cate,” you say firmly, but with a gentleness that makes her heart ache. “C’mon, I know you’d never hurt me. Not like that.”

Cate bites her lip, her gaze dropping again to the gloves. She’s heard those words from you before, but it’s hard to believe them, especially when the memories of what happened to her brother still haunt her. “It’s not that simple,” she mutters, her voice tight. “I could slip up. All it takes is– is a touch and a word, and I could—” She stutters through her words before they break off, biting her lip. The thought of losing control terrifies her.

You lean forward, holding her hands tighter, not letting go this time. “I do know,” you say softly, your eyes searching hers. “I know, Cate, what you can do, what happened to your brother, but I also know you. And I’m not scared of you because I know it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little.”

Cate’s breath catches, her heart pounding as she stares at you with wide, searching eyes. No one’s ever said that to her—not like this. Not with so much confidence in her. She wants to believe you, wants to trust that she won’t make a mistake... but the fear of losing control, of saying something she can’t take back, always lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

She looks away, her voice trembling. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Cate,” you interrupt gently, moving her hand up to your cheek, even with the glove still on. “You can take them off. I want you to. Please?”

Cate’s heart pounds, her fingers trembling beneath the leather. She hesitates for a long moment, her mind racing with a hundred different reasons why she shouldn’t. But something about the way you’re holding her hand—like it’s nothing, like you don’t see the danger—makes her want to try.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reaches for the edge of one glove, pulling it off with trembling fingers. Her hand feels exposed, vulnerable, but you don’t flinch. You just hold her gaze, calm and patient, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

She pulls off the second glove, her bare hands now resting in yours. She waits—waits for something to go wrong, for the fear to take over. But nothing happens. You don’t pull away. You don’t flinch. Instead, you gently lift her hand back to your cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your skin.

“See?” you whisper, your voice gentle. “You’re in control, Cate. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her chest tight with emotion. She can hardly believe what’s happening—she’s touching you, skin to skin, and it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It feels... right.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I was so scared I’d mess up... that I’d say something and lose you.”

You smile softly, still holding her hand against your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid, not with me. I trust you, Cate. I always have.”

Cate’s heart swells, the weight of her fear slowly lifting. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels safe. Not just because of your touch, but because of the way you believe in her—like she’s more than just her power, more than her fear.

“I... I trust you too,” she finally whispers, a small smile tugging at her lips. She holds onto your touch, the warmth of your hand grounding her in a way she’s never felt before. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

And in that moment, with your hand in hers, the fear that’s haunted her for so long feels just a little bit lighter. Light enough to get everything else off of her chest.

Cate swallows hard, feeling like her heart’s going to burst right out of her chest. She tries to steady herself, but the weight of everything she’s been bottling up is too much. She glances down at her hands, then back at you, and before she can stop herself, the words start to spill out—awkward, messy, but real. “I... I’m scared because... because I care about you. Like, a lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and... and the thought of hurting you... it just—it freaks me out.”

She looks away as soon as she says it, like she’s half-expecting you to laugh or push her away. But you don’t. Her heart skips a beat when she hears your voice, soft and closer than she expected.

Your heart skips a beat at her confession, but you don’t pull away. “Cate, you’re not gonna hurt me.” You lean in, your voice a little quieter, a little more vulnerable. “I care about you too... more than you know.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide as she stares at you like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Wait... you—you do?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking just as nervous but still smiling a little. “I’ve felt like this for a while. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

Cate opens her mouth, but all that comes out is this weird little half-laugh, half-gasp sound, like she’s trying to process it all. “You’re serious? You like... you’ve liked me?”

“Yeah. For a while now.”

There’s this awkward pause where you’re both kind of just staring at each other, unsure of what to say next. Cate lets out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching in your grasp, and she looks down again, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Your smile softens, and you reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cate’s throat tightens, and she feels her eyes starting to sting. She blinks quickly, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They’re not just tears of fear anymore. It’s everything—relief, hope, something she hasn’t let herself feel in a long time. She leans in without really thinking, her forehead resting against yours, her voice barely audible, trembling just a little.

“Promise?” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

You nod, your eyes closing as you hold her just a little tighter. “Promise.”

In that moment, Cate finally lets herself believe it might be okay.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Land Of Iron Au

For: @shinobimagpie

Gai had faced many challenges in his life, but in all of his years as a Shinobi he never thought he’d find himself at the wrong end of a sword.

“You are rather skilled,” he praised his opponent with a bright smile. “I didn’t think the Samurai of the Land of Iron would ever be able to keep up to me.”

“So you thought, what? That you’d just sneak past our borders?” He expects anger in his opponents voice. Perhaps annoyance. What he hears instead, is amusement. “You underestimated us.”

“I did.”

“And what is it you came here for, Shinobi?” The swords tip pressed against his neck. “Surely there’s nothing in this land that you require.”

“My friend,” he answered without thought. “I received a message from an old friend of mind telling me that someone i knew, someone i cate about, is here.”

“A friend?” The samurai tilted their head. “What kind of friend could a Shinobi have here?”

Gai thought back to his childhood. To the days he would spend challenging his eternal rival, and how they had slowly become friends with each spar they had.

He thought back to the days he lost when that friend dissappeared suddenly, no trace of him to be found. Gai had tried to ask Lord Third about it, but the only answer he ever received was that it was none of his concern.

“A special friend,” he answered. “My best friend.”

“What makes this person so worthy of that title?”

Gai shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn’t need to be worthy of it, it’s just a fact.”

He expects to be cut, or perhaps turned away. Scolded for foolish, childhood memories. It’s something he’s used to after years of being reminded to focus on his missions and told to forget about his friend.

He could never forget, though. Even when he tried to ignore them the memories were there. Taunting him. Reminding him of what he had lost.

“Your friend,” the Samurai lowers their sword and takes a step back. “How do you know they remember you?”

His heart ached at the thought of being forgotten, but Gai stood firm. “He’ll remmember.”

The two of them stood there staring at each other, neither of them moving to attack. Gai wasn’t sure how lo they stood out there in the snow, the freezing wind biting his skin.

All he knew was that he wouldn’t leave until he saw him.

“You really are stubborn, Gai,” The Samurai sighed. “To stand out here in the freezing cold waiting for a long lost friend.”

Gai blinked. “I… didn’t tell you my name.”

“You don’t need to,” sheathing his sword, the Samurai reached up and carefully removed their helmet. Silver hair dropped into sight, a long pony tail settling against the Samurai’s back.

“Kakashi…”

“Its been what, twelve years?”

“Thirteen,” Gai corrected him as a smile stretched across his face. “Thirteen very long years.”

“Ah, well…” setting his helmet against his legt side, Kakashi closed his eyes and offered Gai a friendly smile. “Hello again.”

[mermaidsirennikita]

First of all, thank you for being a constant source of material, I'm never lacking a book thanks to you

Could you name books with really good groveling? Like the hero really has to earn forgiveness from the heroine

And also book recs with the heroine writing/drawing/talking about naughty things she actually doesn't have much idea about, the hero doing things to her and she's like oh well I wasn't expecting this

Haha you're welcome! I try my best.

For groveling, I'd recommend:

Kiss an Angel by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Contemporary. I'd say that this one actually has a hero who does some really horrible stuff (nothing physically abusive, but he is just an asshole about a big deal thing, though he has his reasons) and has to truly debase himself to get her forgiveness. I really feel like a grovel doesn't necessarily have to be words--sometimes the best thing is the hero doing something that is specific to HIM.

Untamed by Elizabeth Lowell. A 90s medieval, so check your triggers, but this is another one where the hero is such a dick and when the heroine is kidnapped his spy guys come back and are like "dude, she doesn't even think you're going to come get her. And he's like "WHAT. THE. FUCK." and is so horrified by his own behavior that he does... some insane stuff lol.

Mafia Madman by Mila Finelli. All of the Kings of Italy series have grovels (probably my second favorite in the series is in Mafia Target, where there's like a thwarted rejected grovel and then a better grovel). Enzo really needs to grovel, and he does the whole "baby I'm sorry come back I can't breathe with you" thing, but he also does a thing that is so shocking to the heroine because it's a true lowering of his dignity, a true facing his most intense fear moment. And that--hits. He also like. Buys her stuff. He really hits all the key components.

The Master by Kresley Cole. Another mafia book, in this one the grovel is this very pathetic grovel from a very powerful, very alpha man. At one point he's just standing outside the rain watching her through a window forlornly texting her and I find it hilarious.

Lothaire by Kresley Cole. Paranormal. This is another "face your fears, do the thing you're terrified of" grovel, and I appreciate it so much. It's also preceded by this babbling wacky love confession where he's so emotional that he lapses into Russian and the heroine is like ".... I don't get what you're saying but I think I catch your drift".

Give Me More by Sara Cate. A contemporary MMF where one hero has to grovel to both parties, and he does that by actually doing the work and confronting some really problematic shit about himself. It's so good.

Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre. Contemporary femdom book, and I love that it is femdom but the book also acknowledges that he has a lot of emotional power in the relationship and really hurts her, and it's thwarted at first so he has to come back (literally one of my favorite things is the hero trying for a grovel and the heroine going "no").

The Bride Goes Rogue by Joanna Shupe. SPEAKING OF THWARTED GROVEL, this one has such a great one where it seems to work at first but then he reeeally messes up again and the he's all "WE SHOULD HAVE A SEX MARRIAGE" and she's like ".... no" and his world collapses and he has to try again.

The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe. Another great great grovel where he has to do something that is at total odds against his goals for the entiiiire book. I think of it as a "bend the knee" grovel, but it's honestly better than a lot of on his knees grovels because it's not just a perfunctory thing the writer includes, it's a thoughtful, serious grovel.

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean. However lol, here Ralston does get on his knees and it's super emotional... and thwarted. MacLean writes a great grovel.

The Day of the Duchess by Sarah MacLean. Speaking of, the hero in this one is groveling because he legit cheated, and it's been two years since and she comes back wanting a divorce, and he spends the entire book groveling. It's GREAT.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley. Another marriage in trouble booklong grovel, but in this case he's groveling for like, a lot of things? Not cheating, but very realistic marital issues imo. They've been separated for three years at that point and he wants her BACK.

The Hawk by Monica McCarty. Lol, this is one where the hero does more of a grand gesture than a grovel, but it's so absolutely bonkers that I just have to include it. RIDICULOUS.

"Heroine writing/drawing sex things" recs:

Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti. This novella is exactly that lol. Matilda doesn't know much about sex, but she knows she has some very specific tastes, so she draws this duke doing things to her. The drawings end up (not her fault) in the news, basically, and he tracks her down and is like "WE HAVEN'T EVEN DONE STUFF WTF". They do end up doing stuff, lol.

The Notorious Lord Knightly by Lorraine Heath. This one is a variation, because the heroine is actually describing stuff they did before he left her at the altar, in this anonymous revenge driven tell-all where everyone knows it's him lol. And he confronts her like "WTF" and it's all on from there. The thing is, she only slept with him and it was years ago and they didn't do a lot, so she's still pretty inexperienced and he is... not.

I will say lol... Tiffany Reisz's Original Sinners series does have this (specifically in The Saint, which is easier to read on its own as it's about the beginning of this ongoing relationship in the series) but the series is unfinished so I don't know how an HEA will pan out (right now it's in a "HFN" place) and it is very much erotic and dark. The heroine is underage at the time, and she's writing fantasies about her priest who does read them and is like "honestly.... this is pretty well-written". They don't do stuff while she's underage (well. except for that one time.) but they do have a deal where he gets her out of going to juvie and he's like "deal is, if I get you out of this you'll do everything I say" and she's like "if you get me out of this you'll have sex with me" and he's like "..... fine". This man straight up shows up at her school when she gets in trouble for writing Bible erotica and is like "tbh this erotica is pretty Biblically accurate so I think y'all should chill out" and he's so intimidating it WORKS. Again, very dark and taboo and it has some pretty problematic elements, some of which I'm okay with as a reader and some of which I'm not, and it's DEFINITELY not for everyone, buuuut I do love many books in this series.

The Professor by Charlotte Stein has a heroine who's definitely not a virgin but isn't on her professor's level. She accidentally turns her erotica about him in as an assignment lol.

The Earl I Ruined by Scarlett Peckham has a variation in which the heroine writes a dirty poem basically slandering the hero lol because it implies he likes to submit, and he's like "girl, I am on the other side of that dynamic" and she's all "D:" because she thought he was very stodgy and cold, but soon she's all "... :)" because she DOES like to submit.

[teenmomcentral]

Tyler Baltierra is responding to some Teen Mom fans’ predictions that his biological daughter Carly will “come back” to him and his wife Catelynn Lowell once Carly turns 18.

The Teen Mom Family Reunion star— who placed Carly for adoption after her birth in 2009 but has maintained a relationship with her and her adoptive parents Brandon and Teresa Davis— recently replied to an Instagram comment from a fan who stated that she believes Carly will chose to have a close relationship with her birth parents. As The Ashley previously reported, Catelynn recently publicly aired her frustration with Brandon and Teresa after they denied her and Tyler the chance to see Carly for their annual visit. In a series of Instagram Story posts, Catelynn called out Carly’s parents for not “making time” for their families to get together.

Tyler, in turn, defended his wife online and stated that it was not Carly who wanted to cancel the annual visit.

On Friday, Tyler addressed the opinion some fans have that Carly will come “running back” to her birth parents once she is an adult and can make the choice on her own.

“I’ve noticed that this is the most common opinion I happen to see from people,” Tyler wrote in the comment section of a post on the official ‘Teen Mom’ Instagram account showing a scene about Carly from the upcoming season of Teen Mom: The Next Chapter. “Of course I’d LOVE for her to be in our lives more & her sisters’ lives.

Tyler stated that he understands that there is a possibility that Carly may choose to exclude him and Catelynn and their daughters from her life once she is an adult.

“The truth is, she might turn 18 & want nothing to do with us. It just might be too difficult for her or she simply might just want to move on with her life & not have us be involved…& ya know what? That’s OKAY! That is her right! That is her choice!” he wrote. “Or she might want to just talk us one final time & tell us how much our decision to place her has negatively affected her or traumatized her life…& that’s OKAY! I would humbly fold my hands behind my back, lower my head & allow her to yell, cry, or scream at me if that’s what she needs. All I would say is ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I love you.’

“I am going to respect & lovingly honor whatever decision she happens to make,” he continued. “Because my love for her has no conditions. It has no requirements or expectations. It is biologically bias towards her spirit & it is a paternal love that’s everlasting & invincible. I would honestly tell her how proud I am of her to show such courage & strength to fight for what she believes in. All I hope & wish for her is to ALWAYS REMAIN TRUE to her intuition. To live EVERY MOMENT with unapologetic authenticity. To ALLOW enough GRACE upon herself to heal whenever it’s needed. To NEVER self betray for the sake of others comfort & to use FEAR as an OPPORTUNITY to PROVE to herself exactly what she is CAPABLE of every time it arises!

“So I’m okay with whatever decision she makes, because I’m not a requirement for any of those wishes to come true for her. I just want her to know how much she is loved!”

Over the years, Catelynn and Tyler have had a somewhat strained relationship with Brandon and Teresa, often due to Cate and Ty publicly discussing Carly on social media and/or ‘Teen Mom.’ (Brandon and Teresa also forbid Catelynn and Tyler from posting current photos that show Carly’s face.)

On the same post, Tyler left a comment addressed to Catelynn, applauding her for her strength in handling the situation.

“@catelynnmtv you continue to amaze me,” Tyler wrote. “Your tenacity to love so unconditionally inspires me. You’re the strongest woman I have ever met & our family is blessed by that strength daily. Carly did in fact come into this world to create change, but YOU are the catalyst for that change! Your infinite maternal sacrifice will echo change in our daughters & our family for generations & that is a legacy that you should be proud of. You’re the BEST mother I have ever seen & your capacity to love is effortless. You’re such a beautiful person & I’m so blessed that you are the mother of our children. I love you more than anything & everything!

“You’re BEAUTIFUL. You’re STRONG. You’re WORTHY. You’re SAFE.”

Carly turned 15 years old earlier this month. On her birthday, Catelynn posted a photo from her and Tyler’s visit with Carly last year, along with a caption that expressed her desire to have a better relationship with Carly and her parents.

“Today is Carly’s 15th birthday!” Catelynn wrote. “I wonder what kind of day she’ll have and what she’ll do. I wish thing were different so we could celebrate with her. I hope she feels our love and has a great day! I look forward to knowing that one day we will be lucky enough to celebrate with her and B&T. I can’t wait for that day. @TylerBaltierraMTV we are soooo blessed to have our girls.”

[radiant-reid]

HEY CATE!!! okay so, how do u think spencer would feel about his girlfriend/partners birthday? my birthday is coming up next week and ngl ive had a couple mental breakdowns about it😭 so im just wondering how spencer would react to a partner who gets overwhelmed about that sorta thing :)

oh bestie you're not alone with this one. I've cried on every one of my birthdays since i was like 10 and when i turned 20 this year 😭😭😭... i wrote you a blurb and i hope you have an amazing day

"There's the birthday girl," Spencer says as he enters your bedroom and closes the door behind himself.

You bite your lip guiltily, fiddling with the hem of your dress as you sit against the headboard of your bed. You expect him to drag you out of the room, back to the party celebrating you, but he comes and sits on the edge of the bed, placing your legs over his.

It's a vicious cycle. You felt fake trying to be so happy at the party, and then worse, guiltier when you retreated to your room. Penelope was so kind to throw you such an amazing party, and you were ditching it.

"My birthday girl." He hums, placing a hand on your knee to stop your fidgeting. "Why'd you run away from the ball, Cinderella?"

Instead of answering right away, you lean forward and nuzzle into his shoulder after laughing at his joke. "I just...can never get through a birthday feeling good." You answer. "Getting older and all that."

"Ah, Gerascophobia." He hums, and of course, he had a word for it.

"I'm not...scared." You deny, leaning your cheek on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. "I just don't like growing up which is dumb because I'm already an adult."

Spencer shakes his head. "I get it." He agrees sympathetically. "It is scary getting older, but I used to be a lot more scared before I met you." His hand comes to rest on your lower back, rubbing soft circles.

You melt a little, he makes it easy to do that. "Not so much anymore?"

"Not so much, because every year I get older, it's another year I get to spend with you." He replies.

You sniffle, wiping up the mascara he was making you cry. "Appreciate you." You mumble against the material of his suit.

"I appreciate you." He replies, turning his head to kiss you on the forehead. "If you're ready, we can go back out, just for cake, and then I'll kick everyone out."

"Be my scary FBI boyfriend?" You ask jokingly.

He chuckles. "Doesn't really work in a room full of much scarier FBI agents."

"Wanna watch you try anyway." You decide before kissing his cheek.

"Anything to make you smile."

[beanieblanchett]

iii. “use me but as your spaniel”

Paring: Cate Blanchett x fem reader

Warnings: professor student relationship, slight smut, masterbation, dom/sub undertone, dirty talk

Read Chapter 2 here

(Sorry for the long wait I have been caught up with my personal and academic life lately🥺I know I’ve been a complete ass making people wait for so long. I’m so sorry)

*not my edits*

The day has been long.

There’s a clock in your bedroom. An old fashioned one, and you could hear the second hand ticking in your room: time passes in the unit of a second at a time, and you are so aware of every second that has passed.

It is painful, really. You try to focus on the reading for your psychology class, but there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, as if something is suspended in the air, waiting to fall.

To fall. Like gravity, so natural and irresistible. That is how you feel right now as you sigh and look at your planner for the third time in the past hour, a scheduled appointment for office hours with a professor, the professor…...highlighted in yellow, like the color of the sunlight that is now resting outside of your window.

And so you are thinking about her again. The other day when she was explaining the literary devices that Ovid used to show the depth of love. Love, when the word falls out of her mouth you can’t help but tremble. You take in a deep breath as you wander around the meeting link on the canvas site. There’s still 10 minutes before the scheduled time. Even though she has always said in the lecture that anyone’s welcomed to join the meeting room, you decide to wait. The amount of hesitation and a mix of other feelings pumping in your heart scares you. You hate to use the word love lightly, but what other word could you use to describe that feeling that’s dancing in your chest right now? that hopeless attraction, that constant longing you have for her? When you’ve barely even talked to her, you’ve fallen for her. You feel utterly alone, slightly ashamed, and immensely terrified.

You curse under your breath as your eyes refocus on the screen, dragging yourself back from your thoughts, you’re almost late. And so you click on the link, your body tense and your teeth biting your lower lips nervously as you enter the waiting room.

“Well Hello, so how are you doing today?”

She greets you with a smile, her voice reaffirms her presence and makes your heart miss a beat. She’s wearing a white shirt, the first three buttons casually opened, elongating her elegant neck, exposing her delicate collar bones...and the a peek of her cleavage that makes your cheeks burn. Yet you can’t take your eyes off, a silver necklace draping from her neck down to inside her shirt...almost luring you.

“Can you hear me alright?”

She spoke again, and you’re embarrassed by your lost focus...on her. It still feels slightly unreal that she’s addressing you—you’ve gotten used to not answering her questions, as you know someone else always will.

“I’m sorry...yes I can hear you. I’m doing good.” You open your mouth to realize that your voice is a little raspy from not talking all day.

She is looking slightly tired but genuine and kind as usual, staring into the camera with a satisfied smile as she nods to your answer. You can hear her clicking as you both fell silent. You try to focus on the presence of her so as to stop your thoughts from running into wild places, but that seems to do the opposite job.

“So I see you’ve got a 90.5 on your last essay, which isn’t bad at all.” She said with a keen smile as she praises you, which soon turned into a look of curiosity as she raises her eyebrows, “with such a grade you’re not required to come see me, but you still choose to. I wonder if you have any specific questions for me?”

“Oh…” no, you don’t really have any, but you look down on your notes for things you’ve prepared for this meeting, “I just wonder if you have any suggestions for my writing, you know, where can I improve, because I’d like to get a better grade for that upcoming essay.”

“Hmmm..understood.” She nods again, and you can see her eyes quickly scanning through your essay as she speaks.

And her left hand, that was supporting her chin, is now resting on her left cheek. And—an observation that scorched your cheeks—her fingers are now unconsciously touching her own lips...in a most casual, most usual but also insanely sensual way.

“Will you give me a minute? I’d like to inspect your words more closely so I can give you better suggestions.” She lifted her eyes to look at the camera with a subtle grin.

“Oh sure. I’m in no rush.”

Her fingers returned to her lips after she’s done talking. long, beautiful fingers that you have dreamed and thought about. You’ve imagined them on your face, on your hand, on your body...in your body...without realizing how bold a move you’re making, you feel your own touch on your thighs, moving closer and closer to the center before you find yourself messaging your desire, already aroused, over the thin fabric of your panties.

You gasp at the pleasure, a silent one, and then a louder one. You look into the screen to see her now flipping through a book on her desk, (Metamorphosis, you suppose, as that’s what your essay was about), feeling more daring and slipped a sweaty hand into your pantie.

You’re wetter than you expected, providing an easy entrance for your own finger. Your breath gets heavier and heavier with your slow thrusts, trying to maintain your posture until a soft moan slips from your lips.

She’s still intensely focused on the book, and so you gathered the courage and whispered her name, “Cate….”

“Cate...Cate…..” you say to yourself, words muffled with your now loud moans, which is not getting more and more intense as you get closer to the climax——

“Okay I think I’m done here,” she looks up to you, her sudden words scaring you, ruining your orgasm and now your pussy is pathetically wet, and exposed in the air.

She doesn’t seem to expect your response as she proceeds to give you a few suggestions about your writing. She praises your interesting perspectives, and points out a few flaws in your analysis, raising some other questions regarding the texts. As always, she seems to be most genuinely interested in your work, analyzing it as if it’s the work of Ovid himself. Her voice is incredibly captivating to you, and to your swollen desire, but her highly professional manner turns you on even more——the thought of you being naked with your ugly desire, almost dripping in such an academic discussion...how sinful, how humiliating, how dangerously attractive.

“Now would you mind sharing with me the passage you’ve chosen for the upcoming essay? The Shakespeare one.”

“Oh yes. Of course.” You nod, looking down to your notes to avoid looking at those eyes, and looking at your own picture on the screen. You could imagine yourself right now, cheeks red and sweat on your forehead, how weird she must have thought of you to be.

“I’ve chosen the passage in the Midsummer Night’s Dream. Helena’s confession and pursuit of Demetrius. I find that speech of her quite touching...the devotion of putting oneself in such a lowly place, almost an act of submission, but also an act of great courage, to go against societal norms…”

You pause yourself there to look up at her, she’s nodding and smiling as always, but in her eyes, you see almost a tint of a fleeting, mischievous smirk? you must have made a mistake. And you must have been illusioned by your heating desire, so you shake your thoughts and continued: “it’s this passage,

‘Use me but as your spaniel—spurn me, strike me,

Neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave,

Unworthy as I am, to follow you.

What worser place can I beg in your love—

And yet a place of high respect with me—

Than to be used as you use your dog?’”

Finishing off, you look up again, and you feel yourself shaking.

Silence. And you think you see that mischievous smile in her eyes grow stronger. You’re almost certain, yes there’s definitely something behind those eyes. Those eyes that shine with kindness and professionalism, sparkle with interests and curiosity...there must be something behind those eyes.

And now they’re staring at you.

“Professor?” You feel unease, breaking the long silence that felt like forever.

“Is that for your essay or is that for me?”

Your heart either stopped beating or was beating at an unnatural rate, you opened your mouth to find yourself stuttering, “I...this...the essay...sorry?”

She did not respond, but her eyes now burning with a wanton look.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice is shaking.

“Oh yes you do.” She says, stopping the screen share of your essay so that you could see her and only her——eyes filled with mysterious lust, a smirk emerged on her face.

“You thought you muted yourself, didn’t you? Or did you think those filthy little noises that your pretty mouth was making could escape my ear? But I’ve heard them all, even those wet noises coming not from your mouth but from somewhere else. And did you think I didn’t notice you, looking like you’re having too much fun biting your lips with watery eyes in my lectures?”

Her stare was intense, burning you to the ground, to your knees, stripping you bare and making all your attempts to act decent seem useless and pathetic.

“You are quite a daring one, but a bashful one at the same time. How interesting.”

“‘To be used as you use your dog’...now look up and answer this: is that what you want from me?”

(To be continued.)

[wheeier]

trust me

summary: steve coming out to you as bisexual :)

warnings: fluff !! nervous steve, maybe emotional reader bc that would be me

i got teary-eyes writing this but yeah anyways

bisexual!steve harrington x fem!reader

steve had been thinking about it for three months now. at first he didn't believe it – thinking it's not real and he's just insane, because all he know is boys like girls, and girls like boys. poor boy doesn't even know that the word bisexual actually exists. but after robin came out to him as lesbian almost a year ago, maybe the feeling he has was right this entire time. he isn't crazy as he think he is.

steve decided to talk to robin about the situation, since she knows better about this than anyone else.

"i just don't know why you won't tell her," robin says as she puts phoebe cates' standee in place, scrunching her face at her friend, who was visibly stressed out about the current situation. "(y/n) obviously loves you and will accept you no matter what. hell, she's like, head over heels for you. anyone can tell if they see you two together." she finishes as she walks near the boy.

steve lets out a huff, "i know she loves me, i do too. but i'm still scared." he says quietly, thinking anyone would hear, although they were about to close the store and no one was around except them two.

"that's fine. you know, i was so afraid to tell you about me, too. but you've gained my trust, dingus. and you're stuck with me for life." robin pats his shoulder as a way of her saying that his feeling is totally valid and also a way of her saying thank you.

trust. it's a big word for steve. he had trusted so many people in his life, but most of them betrayed and hurt him. he already lost the person he once truly loved and trust, nancy wheeler. it hurt him so much, like someone took his glass heart and dropped it, stomped on it, destroyed it in a thousand pieces.

he doesn't know if he can handle it if he loses you too.

"i'm just- what if she gets upset? what if she runs away?" steve turned his head to robin with a terrified face. "then it's her loss. you're an amazing person, steve. although you're a dumbass most of the time." steve lightly punched her shoulder, making her laugh.

"in all seriousness, just tell (y/n) what you feel when you're ready. i'm sure she won't do anything that would hurt you. i'm telling you she loves you more than anything you could ever think of."

—

a week after that conversation with robin, he was finally sure about what he is and what he likes.

the phone ringing from the living room caught your attention right after you put the pancakes on the plate. "it's just 7 in the morning, who the hell calls this early?" you muttered to yourself.

he immediately felt bad when he heard your frustrated 'hello' on the other line. "babe, hey. good morning, i'm sorry if i interrupted you or anything." you smiled upon hearing his voice. "hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. what made you call this early?" you asked as you sat on the floor. "i..i need to tell you something, but not here on the phone. i wanna tell it in person." you could tell that his voice was mixed with seriousness and anxiousness, which made you assume the worst.

"oh, okay. um.. are you gonna come here? i just made pancakes, i know you love those." you suggested, glancing back at the table as the smell of the pancake filled the house.

steve agreed and told you he would be there in a few minutes so you prepared breakfast for him and prepared some orange juice.

as expected, steve came ringing the doorbell and you fixed your hair a bit before opening the door. you half-expected him to look smiley and happy, but it was different. you stepped aside to let him in and shut the door.

"what is it that you wanted to tell me?" you said calmly, almost comforting that made steve melt. you brushed a strand of his hair away from his face and rest your hand on his cheek. "can we..sit?" he mutters quietly and you nodded.

you intertwined your fingers with his and dragged him to the kitchen where his favorite breakfast lays. he sat beside you, not saying any words. his heart was beating so fast and he's sure that you can practically hear it.

"everything okay?" you asked after putting the pancakes on your plate. you were starting to get nervous, thinking it's really that serious. "how..where do i even begin with this.. uh.." steve started mumbling to himself, you placed your hand on his forearm, letting him know that he can trust you.

steve let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. "you know you can tell me anything, right? whatever that is, you can trust me." he stared into your eyes, searching for any hint of lie – but there weren't any.

he slightly nodded before looking around but you. "i like you, i mean, of course i do, you're my girlfriend. jesus, uh.. you know i love you, right?"

"yeah," your voice was quiet, unable to speak clearly because of the loud beating of your heart, but at least he admitted that he actually loves you. "yeah. of course."

steve took a deep breath, having the courage to look at your eyes. "before i say it, if you get mad i totally get it, but i hope you won't be. i just, don't wanna lose y-"

"steve?"

"-yeah?"

"just get to the point, please. i promise i won't be mad." you gave him a reassuring smile, and he returened you one.

"promise?"

"promise."

there was a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "..i like girls. and.." he started, and you made a confused face. "and..i'm pretty sure i'm attracted to..guys, too." his voice trails off but you were able to catch it. he started to panic when you didn't say anything.

he looks down on his palm, picking his nails like he used to when he's anxious. "robin said it's called bisexual, at first i didn't know what it means but now i'm sure that i am that. and i've been thinking about that in the last three months but i didn't know how to tell you, because.. i was scared that you will leave me," his voice almost broke and when he had the courage, he looked back into your eyes. "but just know that i love you so much and if you don't love me anym–" he was interrupted with your hug, slowly letting out a sob which made him worry.

"(y/n)?" he was relieved when you looked up with a smile, sniffing as you let go of him. "sorry, this should be your moment, i just got carried away." you slightly laughed as you wiped your tears. he didn't say anything, he just looked at you, waiting for an answer.

"steve harrington, what made you think that i would ever leave you?" you held his hands with yours, drawing circles using your thumb to help him relax.

"you're not-"

"mad? no, of course not." you shook your head in disagreement. "why would i be mad at you? in fact, i am so so proud of you," you rest your hands on either side of his cheeks, his eyes still wide. "i know it's hard for you to do this but you did it, you're brave, and.. that's one of the things why i love you too." the tears went back to your eyes, "and i am glad that you did this, it means so much to me because i know that you trust me."

you sniffed, then let out a shaky breath. "i have no reason to be mad at you, steve. there's literally no reason. nothing will change. i'm still (y/n), your girlfriend and you're still steve, the love of my life and the one i would marry someday." steve smiled at your words and was about to make a joke about it, but stopped himself because he doesn't wanna ruin the moment.

"you became true to yourself and accepted it. there's nothing wrong with that." at this point you didn't care about the tears in your eyes, because he was crying too.

when he didn't say anything you just wiped his warm tears and pulled him for a hug, which he returned this time. "i love you so much, steve. more than anything you could ever think of."

his mind recalls the time when he talked to robin — when she said the same exact thing, and she was right.

"me too. i love you."

you were the first one to pull away from the hug that seemed like hours. "hey, stop crying now because i'll cry even more. i'm an emotional mess, remember?" you both laughed at your comment as he wiped your tear-stained cheek. you were glad to hear his laugh again, that laugh that you always admired. "okay." he chuckles as he nods, wiping his own tears too.

he turned to the table, ready to eat the now-cold pancakes you made. you remembered he even said that it doesn't taste the same if it wasn't you who cooked it.

once you both finished eating breakfast and cleaned the table, you headed back to the living room, prepared the movie ferris bueller's day off and he sits beside you, lower than usual so that your chin reaches the top of his head. you notice him look up at you, so you tilted your head down to see. "what?" you grin.

steve quirked an eyebrow, remembering your words from earlier. "so you're gonna marry me someday, huh?" he teased, but he knows you were serious. "no, actually. that was just for show." you rolled your eyes jokingly while a smile was visibly showing on your lips. "of course, dummy. there's no other person in the world that i would want to marry but you." when he smiled, you planted a kiss on his forehead before continuing to watch the movie.

you wrap your arm around his shoulder as you brush his hair with your other hand and not even an hour yet, he was already sound asleep in your arms.

[romewritingshop]

A welcome interruption

Fandom: Choices, Perfect Match

Relationship: Detective Damien Nazario X Antihero F!MC (Name: Peach Park)

Warnings: Fight sequence, capitalism? Corruption. EROS, Guns.

Word Count Total: 2915

A/N: I had an idea and @ravenpuff02​ is such an inspirational help. She helped me with her reaction and I was aIso was thinking about the Halle Berry Catwoman movie. Peach is a vigilante by the name of Eclipse.

I was inspired by the prompt for the Monthly Challenge for August. This is for day 17 prompt: SURPRISE / PLOT TWIST. 

Hopefully it fulfils the prompt and is a different take on Damien. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.

There is a part 2: A not so welcome interruption

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ravenpuff02 ​ @choicesficwriterscreations ​ @choicesmonthlychallenge​ @kimmiedoo5​

Tonight was meant to be a day off for Peach Park, as she sat on the building ledge a little distance away from the EROS warehouse. Her eye mask scanned the building for entrance and exit routes because Sloane was unwell to do recon this week. Peach didn’t mind because Sloane was amazing at what she does so Peach owed it to her. It was early morning, around two a.m as Peach absorbed the details the digital mask presented. Ten storeys high, lots of windows and metal support beams which could help her with stealth.

The breeze was a welcome feel as she munched her packet of blue Sour Patch Kids. That blue raspberry just hit that spot and it made her recon all the more exciting, plus she expected that the Sour Patch Kids company put some additives to help her fight better and faster. So far nothing was happening at the warehouse but the guards switched positions every half an hour which was both stupid and smart. Stupid because it gives Peach more windows of opportunity to infiltrate but smart because different guards with different skills take the place.

One guard wouldn’t have spotted her but the other guard would notice something so she couldn’t take a guard out during rotation. Peach was alone because Sloane was resting and Hayden was taking care of her so she did not have any back up. Her earpiece picked up the low rumble of a lorry as she sat up attentively, turning to the direction of the sound and spotting the lorry driving straight towards the warehouse entrance.

It seems like her night was going to get interesting as the lorry parked and the warehouse doors opened. A couple of men stepped out of the doors with metal crates, and they were loading them into the back of the lorry. She creased her eyes slightly, so the mask would zoom in and switch to x-ray mode to scan the contents of the crates. It was just as she expected, special ops grade weapons which were illegal across various nations.

EROS were a lowly corporation that sold high grade weapons to terrorists, who take over a country and EROS step in as a support charity that ‘help’ the people with relief aids. Pretending to good yet doing even worse as Peach shook away thoughts that would incite her rage. She needed to keep a cool head because tonight was only to gain information, no interference even though she wanted to intercept the lorry.

After an hour or so, the lorry was filled and the doors closed, it began driving away and Peach’s eye darted from the warehouse to the lorry. Although she was only supposed to formulate a plan to break into the warehouse, following the lorry could help her establish the route EROS take to selling their illegal weapons. Her mind was made up as she downed the rest of her tangy sweets, the tanginess sending a rush of adrenaline through her body. She blinked twice to get a lock on the licence plate of the lorry.

She bagged the rubbish in her belt and walked off the edge of the shipping container, landing on the seat of her motorbike which automatically inflated with a cushion to prevent damage to Peach. Hayden was an absolute genius with the gadgets and vehicles as the cushion deflated, and she pressed her palm on the body of the bike. Connecting the data of the mask to the bike and she locked on a signal to follow the lorry.

Peach pushed her foot down hard to start her motorbike and drove through the containers with a little distance away from the lorry. She pressed a button on the side of the motorbike handle which unfolded a plastic panel in front of her bike, a camouflage shield that allowed Peach to follow the lorry without getting spotted. Hayden really thought of everything, silent engine and a shield to camouflage. Plus a compartment to store Sour Patch Kids which was the best gift she got for her birthday. After a good hour drive from the warehouse, she entered the city.

It was slightly quiet as the roads were empty save for three / four cars. An almost perfect night for Peach and it wasn’t long before the car turned down a street and Peach turned after, the lorry drove through a gated underground car park, as she parked a few meters away. It was an hour and a half long journey and this building was EROS’s offices. Peach smiled at the surplus of information she gained tonight. Her heart was demanding her to break into EROS and burn it to the ground but it wasn’t time yet.

The path she was on was the best way to ensure EROS’s permanent death. Peach deactivated the shield and drove out the street, stopping on the side, to upload her data to Sloane’s computer. Her mask vision flashed red as the sound of a broken glass echoed, she glanced behind her, her vision zooming in to see four crooks, dressed in all black breaking into a bank. Peach sighed as she took a note of the upload progress: twenty five percent. She had time but she had to wake up early the next day for work. She could not afford to fight these guys and wake up with soreness.

After a few seconds of deliberation, the Sour Patch tanginess hit her and which made her head towards the bank. This was a terrible decision but it would take off the edge from the recon she did. Approaching near the buildings, she noticed that the entire glass wall was shattered and the four perps were inside, breaking into four ATMs. The alarm hadn’t gone off which was a smart thing as Peach stepped over the broken glass and behind the guys. One bag was filled with cash and she was tempted to just take it but her fists were aching for a fight.

She straightened her eye mask and black wig, looking down at her outfit. A black bodysuit underneath deep red plastic armor which helped her withstand bullets and knives. She folded her arms and exhaled loudly which caught the attention of the four guys. They were wearing masks of the cast of Ocean’s Eight which was just demeaning to the actresses. Peach smiled as she fanned herself.

“Oh my god! It’s Sandra Bullock. You were amazing in Miss Congeniality.”

They didn’t seem to appreciate her joke as they all raised their guns at her, one of them noticed her.

“It’s that Eclipse chick that broke into the West Anderson Bank on twelfth street. She ain’t taking this job from us.”

That bank job was going to haunt her for the rest of her life as she rubbed her face with disappointment.

“Look. That was one time, and I needed money for upgrades. So fellas, we have two options here: We split the money and walk away from one another. I won't beat you up and you can settle life in San Diego. Or you shoot those guns, I beat the shit out of you and I take the money. Your choice.”

Her eye mask scanned their heart rates steadily, as the one with the Helena Bonham Carter, Cate Blanchett and Rihanna masks lowered their guns slightly. The eye mask vibrated as the Bullock mask brought his finger to the trigger and took a shot at her. A loud bang erupted as the bullet zoomed and got Peach in the left chestplate. The impact of the bullet caused her to stumble. 'Sandra Bullock' lowered his gun to see his bullet didn't even make a dent in her armor as Eclipse brushed off the bullet, standing straight and shaking her hands.

“Okay, now that’s just rude.”

At that moment, time slowed, Peach ran up to ‘Sandra’ and slid on the floor, jutting one leg out and kicked ‘Sandra’ underneath his legs to make him land on his back. He was the obvious first target because he insulted Peach and with that, she grabbed his collar to rip away the mask and send a powerful punch down onto his jaw which immediately knocked the perp out cold. Her fighting has definitely gotten a lot better and she needed to thank Hayden for his help. ‘Cate Blanchett’ decided to take a shot at Peach to avenge his fallen comrade, bringing his gun and taking a shot from the back.

They never learn as Peach felt the vibration of the bullet hit the back shoulder armor. She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder at ‘Cate’. Peach stood up to run at her next victim, sending a jab to his gut before swinging her elbow across his jaw which also knocked him out. She turned to find her two remaining perps running out of the bank and towards the getaway car. Wusses. She took a step when she heard the familiar sounds of police sirens approaching the open bank. She groaned at her fun being ruined as the driver door opened.

Seeing the person come out of the car made her smile widen like a cat as she took in the familiar black boots and tight fitting dark jeans, trailing up to a familiar red shirt under a black leather jacket. Long stubble and the slick backed brown hair as his tan skin glistened and she took in the fine specimen. Her favourite police officer, Detective Nazario. He had the familiar grimness to his face and he strutted towards Peach, stopping just before the wall where the glass would be, hands on his hips that made him look like a delightful menace.

“Papi! I was just wondering when you were gonna make your entrance.”

“It’s Detective.”

Peach would take any chance she could to mack on Detective Nazario: he was tall, grumpy and authoritative. Absolutely Peach’s type and the one good thing about being Eclipse, was that she could flirt without feeling embarrassed. The mask hid her real face and the truth was was that she would never have been able to go out with Detective Nazario in real life. He was too sleek and stylish to go out with her.

Detective Nazario just finished up with a day of reports which were a nightmare. They had been piling up for a week and since today was a quiet day, the Chief thought it was a good idea if he just typed up all his reports. Boredom struck him hard and after several cups of coffee he managed to finish his reports. He was driving home when he heard a report ring over the police scanner installed in his car: some fancy dress woman was breaking into Lowell bank in the Canarsie area. Damien rolled his eyes and pulled out a siren light, placing it on his dashboard and driving towards the location.

Stopping and parking the car just in front of the bank, stepping out to see Eclipse there with two guys by her feet. A black duffle bag by one of the ATM’s as he exhaled like a disappointed parent. Eclipse was a pain in his back as she would constantly break into EROS offices and now it seems to be banks. Clearly she broke her promise as Eclipse grinned at him with arms outspread. She welcomed him with ‘Papi’; although it sounded like rich whiskey dripping from her mouth, it was totally inappropriate because she was a criminal vigilante.

Peach raised an eyebrow as the Detective stepped into the bank and took in the scene. Two guys on the floor and a bag of cash must have looked dodgy to him and before he could scold her, Peach held her hands out to gesture at the guys on the floor.

“Before you say anything, these guys were stealing the hard earned money of the people of Brooklyn. They had a little accident with the glass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Come on, you know I only steal from EROS and rich assholes.”

“Yeah, you’re a real robin hood figure. Does this mean you’re confessing?”

Peach enjoyed the game of debating morals with Detective Nazario, he would try to psych her out into confessing a crime so he can slap the handcuffs on her wrist and drag her to the police station. Soon as they would get to his car, she’d have picked the lock and run away by scaling the building with her grapple gun.

“It’s not a confession, it's a hypothetical opinion. Ever heard of ‘Eat the rich’? Same attitude, plus you need evidence.”

“Me and fifteen other cops saw you with a bag of cash at the West Anderson bank.”

The West Anderson Bank was EROS’s bank and Peach broke into it to steal all the important documents which highlighted their dealings with extremist leader, Daanish Sayeed. When she broke into the bank, the documents weren’t there but their money was and Peach was not going to give up the opportunity to take their cash and use it for good. She stole around a million from them but the place was surrounded by the cops and Detective Nazario. She scraped by to get out and stay under the radar for two months.

“That was for a good cause. Do you ever get my emails about EROS’s shady dealings with extremist leaders of the Middle East and Asia?”

“You sent those emails?”

Damien had been getting a few emails of documents from an anonymous source about EROS. He wasn’t sure who and from where but he did take it up to the Chief. The Chief then dismissed these papers false by having a forensic examiner show Damien the documents were altered. Since then, he never bothered to look into EROS. A small part of him believed she was right about EROS but the reality was, was that she was a criminal and she was accusing a charity of being some sort of organized crime organisation. She was in the wrong.

“Yes I did and I really hope you -” 

Before she could carry on, they heard a car door open. The both of them snapped their heads to Damien’s car as white paws hit the gravel. Damien’s face contorted to a bitter grimace as the face revealed floppy brown ears and black beaded eyes. A shiny black nose and an innocent aura as the beagle puppy bounded it’s way towards Damien’s feet. He had forgotten that he had picked up his sister Carina’s dog from the sitter’s. Carina had gone on holiday for a few weeks and Damien ‘kindly’ offered to dogsit with a bit of bribery.

His sister’s dog, Peanut was a small beagle pup of about fifteen weeks of age. Small for her size but she was a bright curious creature, right now Damien was confused about how Peanut opened a car door. Peach held her breath at the sight of the small puppy padding it’s way to Damien’s feet. Just when she thought he couldn’t get sexier, had a freaking dog. Correction: puppy and Peach was ready to throw her mask away and fall at Detective Nazario’s feet.

“Oh my god! It’s so fucking cute! What’s its name?”

Damien relented and told her the name, as she made her way towards the puppy to take it in her arms. Peanut welcomed her touch and brought it’s wet snout to her cheeks, it’s sandpaper rubbing on her cheek. At this moment, Peach felt she had died and was ready to go to jail if it meant seeing Damien and Peanut.

“Is she your new partner?”

“No. I’m dogsitting.”

Damien’s breath got stuck in his throat as she threw a soft smile towards him and for a moment he ignored the fact that he was a police detective and she was a vigilante. She was close and he noticed the way her costume fit snug on her body, it wasn’t bulky like he assumed it was. He wanted to take off her eye mask and absorb her face, examine the details and maybe brush his lips - wait! She was a criminal.

“You know, I’m almost tempted to throw away my mask.” Damien raised an eyebrow at her and she could tell he was amused from her words. “Almost.”

“Well maybe next time, I’d have to bring Peanut with me to get you into the car.”

“There’s a next time?”

“Although it’s against my job, I am intrigued by our encounters.”

Peanut was magical as Peach felt her guard relax. This was the closest thing to a date she had as she smiled at Detective Nazario. His face was threatening to break out into a smile and they felt a warm air swirl around them. Unfortunately their charged atmosphere was interrupted by a low groan as Peach and Damien turn to the perps on the floor. Both of them having forgotten the bank job. Damien wanted to spend more time with her and that moment he decided to let her go, he could always get her next time.

“Go on, make a run for it.”

Peach was stunned at his encouragement but gave a nod, handing Peanut back to Detective Nazario, completely ignoring the spark of electricity when her gloved hand brushed against his wrist. She sent a quick salute and jogged over to her bike, pushing the pedal hard before sending one last look to Detective Nazario.

“See you next time, Papi.”

“Don’t make me shoot you, Eclipse.”

[kimkymury]

Blue Rose Tears - Chapter 3

Hello everyone!

I’m back with the third chapter of my Carl x Pascal fanfiction. I hope you like it!

I would like to thanks @depressedoverdrawings​ for  reviewing the history and help fixing grammatical errors.

Warning:  Just a little warning, some characters have distorted views about sexuality, and those views do not represent what I think in real life. This was written on purpose to suit the environment and the time that the story takes place, since at that time people were more closed minded.

The Portuguese Version of this story is also Available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/928977847-as-l%C3%A1grimas-da-rosa-azul-cap%C3%ADtulo-3

Under the cut! Enjoy the story.

Blue Rose Tears

Chapter 3

P.O.V Narrator

The whole situation was new to Carl, he had already talked to the scientists about psychology, but being one of his "patients" was new. Pascal held a clipboard and a pencil, he wrote quickly without worrying whether his handwriting was legible or not. After a few more minutes of silence, the redhead turns his attention to his friend.

"I will ask you a few questions, all of which are basead on my research and on reliable sources."  - The elder boy said, he seemed excited to help his friend.

The dark-haired boy nodded silently. It was the first time he had vented to someone like that, It felt like a consultation with a doctor. Carl hoped he would be "fixed", that after those series of questions, he would stop feeling things for Serge.

"First question, descibre in detal how you feel being around this person." - The redhead asks patiently, preparing to write down the answet that would come.

For a few moments, the religious boy thought about how he could verbalize the feeling he had for the pianist. He had never felt anything like it. It felt mote like an obssession, if he could call it that.

"When I am with this person, I feel happy and I want to be closer to them. I really admire that person, they are everything I am not and will never be." - He says, praying internally that all that would pass.

"Okay, can you tell me what it's like to know that this person doesn't love you back?" -  The eldest boy asks, carefully writing down every word his friend said.

Carl felt desolate, that was the perfect way to describe what he was feeling. It was like he was never going to be good enough to be with someone like Serge. He tries to turn his feelings into words, in a way that is easier to understand and at the same does not sound so desperate.

"I feel...horrible. It's like I'm drowning in a wave of guilt, every time I'm with this person, I need to pretend I don't feel anything." - The dark-haired boy answers the question as he lowers his head, his eyes were fixed on the floor.

Pascal was surprised by his friend's response, It was normal to be sad because he fell in love with someone who doesn't correspond his feelings, but there was no need to feel guilty about something he couldn't control. That was when he decided It was necessary to find out who Carl had fallen in love with.

"Why do you feel guilty about loving that person? I mean, you're not doing anything wrong." - The redhead looks at the friend who sat opposite him with a worred look.

He didn't want his best friend to get involved with someone who might hurt him.

The religious boy was silent, not knowing what to say. He couldn't belive tha he was feeling things for another man, It was too much for him.

"Do I know this person?" - Pascal asked, diverting Carl's attention from those bad thoughts, making him focus only on question.

"Yes, you know.." -  He replied, afraid of the possible reaction of the scientist to know who he was referring to.

"I see, is this person your friend?" -  The redhead asks while looking at the boy in front of him, It was as if he was analyzing him inside and out.

"Yes, they are..." - At this point, Carl just wanted to his friend to stop trying to find out who was the person and to come up with a solution right away, so his problems could be solved.

"Last question." - After the scientist said this, the religious boy was more relieved.

"Is this person called Serge Battour?" - Pascal said with the same naturalness that asked the other questions, that phrase shocked Carl.

The dark-haired boy went pale when he heard that, he didn't expect it to be so easy to find out who he was in love. His mind was littered with fears and worries about what would happen next.

Would Pascal remain my friend? Would Pascal continue to treat me the same way? Would Pascal tell Serge this? But the most important, Could Pascal find a way to heal me?

"How did you find out?" - Carl said startled, looking at the scientist. He expected an aggressive reaction from him, but he received the usual calm look.

"It was really easy, actually. I just needed to analyze what you said, compare it with your social cycle and see who else fit in. As you said that we both know and the person was your friend, I just thought and discard the options that didn't match." - Pascal replied calmly, taking another drag on his cigarette that was in one of his hands.

No matter how long they had know each other, the scientist always found a way to surprise him.

"Aren't you...disgusted?" - The youngest said confused, his reaction was of someone who had just heard the most normal thing in the world.

"Of couse not, I'm surprised you think I would react in that way. So many conversations we've had, I've already explained to you that same-sex love is a natural thing." -  The eldest replied while leaving the clipboard aside, noting was no longer necessary.

"But...this is wrong. If someone finds out I could end up being expelled from school, and if Serge finds out, he-" - Carl was saying before he was interrupted by his friend.

"He won't find out because none of us are going to tell him, and about school, chill out. If they expel you. it'll be for the best, if it weren't for the lab I woudn't be in this school full of people who are limited and have closed mind." - The redhead replied while lying back in the armchair.

" Pascal! I can't leave this place, I grew up here. You too spent a lot of your life here, would you leave if you had the chance?" - The religious boy spoke a little irritated by the friend's comment.

"Of course not, I am being ironic, Despite all the defects, I would not leave Lacombrade, I would miss you and the others." -  The scientist replied, being a little kinder than usual.

"I would miss you too...but that is not important now. I need you help, that's why I agreed to answer the question." -  The dark-haired boy said the beginning of the sentence in a lower tone, before changing the subject.

Demonstrations of affection weren't exacltly Carl's thing, he didn't know how to express his feelings for people, sometimes others thought he didn't care much. But when he wanted someone to know that they were special to him, he found a way to demonstrate.

~Flash from a Year Ago ~

When Carl was younger, until he was about thirteen, he was closer to his younger brother. They moved away because the older one was too busy with his studies and did not like to hang out with his brother's friends. But the love Carl felt for Sebastian never changed, even though they didn't spend much time together or argue from time to time, he always protected his brother On a normal day, Sebastian looked more downcast than usual. He was usually smiling and running around, but this time was different.

"What happened?" - The eldest says approacing his brother, who was surprised by his presence.

"Tomorrow is my birthday, I asked Rosemariné if I had received a letter, but he said no. Mom and Dad must have forgotten about me." -  Sebastian replied saldy, it broke Carl's heart to see the 8 year old boy like that.

"They haven't forgotten about you, there was probably a delay in the post office and the letter may arrive after your birthday. Don't be sad." - The dark-haired boy tried to comfort his brother, bending down when speaking to stay the same height as him.

"Sometimes, I miss them..." - The tears threatened to flow from the small dark eyes, but were prevented by the same.

"I miss them too, but don't be sad. Tomorrow is a special day, so you better be smiling!" - Carl tried to cheer up the sad boy, running his hand lightly through his hair.

The two said goodbye and followed different paths, Carl's intention was good, but he was not very good at showing what he felt. Sebastian thought about his parents' letter all day, forgetting about it only at bedtime. The following morning, he was eight years old. Upon waking uo early as usual, he gets up and looks at his table. What was on it surprised him: there was a note wrote in a very familiar calligraphy, along with a small miniature hare, carved from wood.

That made the smile, he excitedly opened the note and read in a low voice;

" Happy Birthday, Sebastian.    I hope you like the gift, I bought it when we went to Arles and I thought you would like it.   I know it's not like the toys that Mom and Dad could give you, but I think it can be a susbtitute while we´re here. As much as they don't show it, know that they love you, and so do I. Congratulations for your eight years. Your brother,                          Carl Messier."

If Sebastian had ever doubted whether he was loved by Carl, those doubst were gone. He smiled, not cating if he hadn't received a letter from his parents. He knew he was not alone, as he had his brother by his side."

~End of FlashBack ~

"Why do you want my help?" - Pascal said, taking his friend out of those memories.

"Well, because I did imagine that maybe you could heal me. Can't you do something to make me stop feeling this way?" - He replied seriously, showing his concern

The religious boy was surprised by a laugh, of all the hours that Pascal could laugh, this was the least suitable. Carl watched his friend with an incredulous look, he didn't know why the scientist was laughing so hard.

Had he said something funny?

" How do you want me to heal you if you are not sick? Carl, you are just in love, there is no reason to see this as a disease." - The eldest speaks composing himself, while drying the tears that flowed while laughing.

"Yes but, feelings these things for another man is wrong. In fact, I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore..." - He replies, worried as always.

"I already said and I will repeat, if you want to sleep with someone, just go and do it. Life is too short to worry about what society will think." - The redhead says still recovering from the laughter

"P-Pascal! I did not mention that I would like to do these things, that would be outrageous!" - The dark haired boy says as get up from his chair.

He hadn't been thinking about that, had he? Feelings things for Serge, wanting to be around him was one thing, but...sleeping with him? This thought made the religious boy red with shame, he was not used to having that kind of though.

Since he was a child, he was taught not to question and not to think about this type of thing, especially with other men. People around him taught him to leave that kind of thinking only after he got married.

Pascal, different from his friend, saw no problem in thinking, studying or even talking with other people about sex. For him it was a natural thing, he was delighted at how the human body was capable of generating life. The relationships between people of the same sex did not boher him either, he used to ask himself why they did this, since it did not lead to reproduction. But that changed when he discovered the relationship between Serge and Gilbert, he realized that the feeling of love was more important than biological factors.

"Well, forget about that. You  said you're confused what you feel, what exactly confuses you?" - Pascal asked, motioning for Carl to calm down and sit down again.

"I don't know exactly, maybe I just admire him a lot and I'm confusing things..." - The youngest replied, with his usual shy way.

The two were silent for a while, the scientist was thinking of some way to help his friend understand what he was feeling. The questions were useless, he knew he felt something for Serge, but he wasnt sure what it was. Until suddenly, the older boy had an idea: he wanted to find out if Carl was attracted to other boys, just so he could discover the kind of feeling he had for the pianist.

"There is a way to make you understand what you feel." - Pascal said, with a smile from someone who made a discovery.

"Whatever it is, I am accepting it, I can't take this feeling anymore." - The dark haired boy spoke, showing a little excitement.

Seing that his idea had a good reception, he continues with what he was doing:

"Sit in front of me." - He says, right after that Carl gets up from the chair and puts it in front of his friend, before sitting down again.

The two are close, with only a slight inclination their face would meet. Carl seemed a little apprehensive, he was not used to being so close to people, but the desire to find out what he was feeling was bigger than any fear.

"Let's do an observation experiment, the fuction of it is to relax your mind and let your subconscious guide you." - Pascal explains to his friend, carefully analyzing every trace of his face.

"And will it help me understand and get over what I'm feeling?" - The youngest question, curious about what comes next.

"Maybes yes or maybe not, it's very relative. What matters most is the moment itself and how you felt." - The scientist explains, reassuring his friend.

"Okay, I accept. What do I need to do?" - Carl asks, determined to continue with that.

"I'll explain, but first I have to ask you...Do you trust me?" - The redhead asks, with a serious expression, showing that he expected an exact answer.

Carl did not hesistate, he trusted Pascal more than anyone else, perhaps even more than Serge. The two boys have know each other for a long time, have always been honest with each other and never keep secrets from either of them. In all the bad times, the scientist was there to help him, and vice versa.

 The answer was obvious to Carl, he trusted his friend and knew that he would never do anything bad to him.

If I could choose from all the people in the world to know one of my secrets, It would obviously be you. The one who never judged me, even though I was wrong. The one who was by my side in difficult time.

"Yes, I trust you." - The religious boy replied, assuring the eldest that everything was fine.

CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER

Written by KimKymury, thank you for reading <3

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hell is For Children: Animorphs as Children’s Lit

[Guest post from Cates!]

So a couple of months ago Bug asked me to write a post about why Animorphs is Middle Grade/Children’s Fiction, not Young Adult. Since she asked, I’ve read several wonderful posts from other people questioning or explaining what the difference is between Middle Grade and Young Adult, where Animorphs fits, and why it matters. Here’s my two cents as a children’s literature scholar.

To start, Animorphs’ 20,000-30,000 word count per book is a big hint it’s not YA fiction. Obviously, a book with a low word count is not automatically a children’s book, and a book with a high word count is not automatically a book for adults. But if Animorphs was aimed at teens, Applegate would likely have been expected to make the books longer. While there are a lot of great YA novels that are as short as or shorter than your average Animorphs book (check out BookRiot’s list of 100 YA novels under 250 pages,) most YA series, and especially fantasy or scifi YA series, are expected to top 100,000 words. (The three books in the Diviners series by Libba Bray have a total wordcount of 520,000 words; Laini Taylor’s Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy tops 400,000 words, for example.)

Animorphs’ word count isn’t enough on its own to exclude the series from YA classification, but Animorphs’ short word count also fits the trend of children’s—not YA—series fiction in the 1990s. In order to understand this trend, and why it produced books specifically for children, not teens, we need to jump back in time to WWII. Because so many American men were drafted into the military, women took over jobs that had been almost exclusively done by men, like mechanics, sales, electricians, etc. When WWII ended, thousands of men returned home, but women didn’t leave the workforce. Realizing they had an excess of young men and not enough jobs, the US government created the GI Bill, allowing soldiers to attend college for free or at a steeply reduced cost, thus stemming the influx of workers and giving the economy and industry room to grow.

At the same time, families were having children (and those children were surviving) at an unprecedented rate. Thanks to the GI Bill, college was no longer something reserved for wealthy white men, but something available to the middle and even lower class. A college education offered social and economic mobility, and the Baby Boomers, children of the GI Bill recipients, became the first generation to grow up with the idea that college was something that could and should be pursued by all.

Then, the Baby Boomers began having children in the late 1970s through early 1990s, meaning a large chunk of those children (including Bug and I) were in elementary school in mid 1990s to early 2000s. Thanks to their parents, a higher percentage of American adults than ever before had attended college. Thanks to advancements in women’s medicine, psychology, sociology, and education, among other fields, people understood as never before the importance of instilling a love of reading in children at a young age. The huge middle class was willing to invest lots of time and money in their children’s educations, because at this point not having a college education was seen as a barrier to success.

I’m sure you can see where this is going. (Kidding).

Children’s publishing exploded in the 1990s because children—or, more accurately, their parents—were seen as a huge, untapped market. Previously, children’s publishing didn’t receive as much money or attention because, the logic went, children did not have money and therefore couldn’t buy books. But then the publishing industry realized that there were literally millions of parents willing to spend money on their children’s education, and publishers like Scholastic, Dutton, Dial, Penguin, Random House, and others rushed to take advantage of this new customer demographic.

Of the ten books featured on this Scholastic bookfair poster from 2000, seven are series fiction.

Serialized fiction—ie, stories that took place over the course of several books about the same characters and/or in the same setting—was the perfect way for publishing houses to capitalize on this new market. And hoo boy was it successful. From 1993 to 1995, Goosebumps books were being sold at a rate of approximately 4 million books a month. That means roughly 130,000 books were sold every day.

Here’s a few names to bring you back: Bailey School Kids, The Magic Treehouse, Babysitter’s Club, Junie B. Jones, Encyclopedia Brown, Cam Jansen, Horrible Harry, Secrets of Droon, The Magic Attic Club, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Bunnicula, The Boxcar Children, The American Girls, Amelia’s Notebook, Dear America, Wayside School, Choose Your Own Adventure…we could keep going for days. All of those series have two things in common: one, they were either published between 1985 and 2005 and/or experienced a huge resurgence in the 90s, and two, they’re all middle grade novels. Some are aimed at younger children, like Junie B. Jones and The Magic Treehouse, and some are aimed at older children, like the Dear America series and A Series of Unfortunate Events.

The point is, Animorphs is so clearly a product of its time (and not just because of the Hansen Brothers references,) it slots perfectly into the trend of series fiction for children. If you want to claim Animorphs is YA, you also need to claim all of the series I just listed above.

Now, let’s talk about the main argument I see in favor Animorphs being YA: the dark content.

This is my personal wheelhouse. I’m planning on someday doing my PhD dissertation on trauma, violence, war, and trauma recovery in Middle Grade—not YA—fiction. I always find it funny when people use descriptors like cute, sweet, innocent, silly, light, and simple to describe children’s books. While there are certainly plenty of children’s books that are one or more of those things, there are also dozens that are the polar opposite—dark, complex, serious, violent, and deep. I once read a review of The Golden Compass which said “it’s not like other children’s books with a clear cut good guy and bad guy and a simple message.” I don’t know how many children’s books the author of the article had read, but I’m guessing not a lot. Let’s just do a blunt reality check with a few of my favorites—including some picture books which are typically for an even younger audience than Middle Grade. Spoilers for all of the books I’m about to mention.

Baseball Saved Us by Ken Mochizuki This book follows a little boy who is sent to a Japanese interment camp during WWII. He and his family deal with abuse, starvation, and sickness. Suggested reading age*? Kindergarten and up.

*(For this and all subsequent books I used reviews from Kirkus, the Horn Book, and School Library Journal to determine suggested reading age.)

Check out this picture of Shorty playing baseball while an armed soldier watches him from a guard tower. Isn’t it cute, sweet, and innocent?

Pink and Say by Patricia Polacco Pink and Say are 15-year-old boys serving as Union Soldiers during the Civil War. Confederate Soldiers kill Pink’s mother, Pink and Say become POWs, and Pink is hanged because he is African American. Suggested reading age? First grade and up.

Fox by Margaret Wild This book starts grim and just gets grimmer. Dog and Magpie have been burned in a wildfire. Dog loses an eye, Magpie a wing. Magpie rides on Dog’s head—she is his eyes, he is her wings. Fox comes and convinces Magpie to leave Dog and come with him. There are definite sexual undertones. The book ends with the possibility that Dog and Magpie will be reunited, but no certainty. Suggested reading age? Six and up.

[The text says “He stops, scarcely panting./ There is silence between them/ Neither moves, neither speaks./ Then Fox shakes Magpie off his back/ as he would a flea,/ and pads away./ He turns and looks at Magpie, and he says,/ ‘Now you and Dog will know what it is like/ to be truly alone.’/ Then he is gone./ In the stillness, Magpie hears a faraway scream./ She cannot tell if it is a scream of triumph/ or despair.”]

Tell me this isn’t a total punch in the gut.

The Rabbits by Shaun Tan The introduction of rabbits to Australia is used as an allegory for European colonization and the casual destruction of the Aboriginals’ lives and cultures. Suggested reading age? Six and up.

The Scarlet Stockings Spy by Trinka Hakes Noble A girl spies on the British during the Revolutionary War while her brother fights. He’s killed and there’s actually a description of her finding the “bloodstained hole” in his coat where the bullet struck him. How cute and silly! Suggested reading age? Second grade and up.

Meet Addy: An American Girl by Connie Rose Porter I think this works as a nice comparison to Animorphs because it’s another long-running, popular series aimed at kids just starting to read chapter books. Among other incidents, there’s a graphic description of Addy watching her brother get whipped by an overseer and a passage where another overseer forces Addy to eat worms. I actually give American Girls a lot of points for not shying away from the uglier parts of history. They don’t always get it right (*cough* Kaya *cough*) but those books are more complex than I think most people realize. Suggested reading age? Second grade and up.

My Teacher Flunked the Planet by Bruce Coville From the sight of a child starving to death to homeless children freezing in the streets, Coville certainly doesn’t avoid the darker side of human nature. Pretty sure most adults only noticed the funny green alien on the cover. Suggested reading age? Fourth grade and up.

“That was the day we crept, invisible, into a prison where men and women were being tortured for disagreeing with their government. What had already been done to those people was so ugly I cannot bring myself to describe it, even though the memory of it remains like a scar burned into my brain with a hot iron.

“Even worse was the moment when it was about to start again. When I saw what the uniformed man was going to do to the woman strapped to the table, I pressed myself against the wall and closed my eyes. But even with my hands clamped over my ears I couldn’t shut out her scream.”

Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai The Vietnam War, migrants drowning in the ocean, refugee camps, racism…this book is a bit like Animorphs in that it’s got a surprisingly dry sense of humor even as awful events take place. Suggested reading age? Fourth grade and up.

The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Patterson A pretty harsh look at the realities of America’s foster care system as told by a girl who could give Rachel Berenson a run for her money. It’s not afraid to show that parents aren’t automatically good people. Suggested reading age? Third grade and up.

Stepping on the Cracks and Wait Til Helen Comes by Mary Downing Hahn If WWII, bullying, dead siblings, draft dodging, and parental abuse are too light and fluffy for you, you can always read about a child consumed with survivor’s guilt because she started the fire that killed her mother. Suggested reading age? Fifth grade and up.

“‘How do you think Jimmy would feel if he knew his own sister was helping a deserter while he lay dying in Belgium?’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ I said, stung by the unfairness of her question. ‘Stuart was sick, he needed me! I wish Jimmy had been down there in the woods, too! Then he’d be alive, not dead!’

Mother slapped me then, hard as she could, right in the face. ‘Never say anything like that again!’ she cried. ‘Never!’”

I could go on (and on and on and on) about trauma narratives for children, but suffice to say while I think Animorphs is probably the most brilliant one I’ve ever read, it’s far from the only one. Kids’ books can be dark, which is good, because if we only tell stories about white, able-bodied children living in big houses with two loving parents then we’re excluding the majority of real children’s lived experiences from our narratives.

There’s one more point I’d like to address: without sounding overly accusatory, I think a lot of the compulsion to consider Animorphs YA instead of children’s fiction is born of the adult bias against children. I’ve mentioned this before on the podcast, but Children’s Literature scholar Maria Nikolajeva created the term aetonormativity to describe society’s tendency to value the adult over the child. Like I discussed above, we have this idea that children’s books are somehow sweet and innocent, while YA fiction is darker and grittier because it addresses so-called ‘adult’ topics like sex, drugs, suicide, violence, and death.

As I hope I’ve established above, just because a book addresses these topics that doesn’t automatically mean it’s for teens. Books about heavy subjects can, are, and should be written for children. I think most of us are fans of Animorphs because it’s a series that sticks with us long after we close the neon-cloud covers. It’s a series that strongly disputes the notion of a clear right and wrong, and doesn’t shy away from the atrocities of war. And it was written for children. It was sold to children. It was read by children.

Some of us adults are just cool enough to read children’s books that treat child readers with the respect they deserve.

— Cates

[sebspocketsquare]

Wishing you were here... 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (chatroom)

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s the first real thing I’ve worked on this year... oops! Anyway, I’ve had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Part 1 is mostly just a preview of what’s to come, I have other, longer chapters written and I’m thinking I’ll post once a week! Let me know what you think! (PS i did put a ‘read more’ link in here, so hopefully it works!)

Warnings: language, maybe? flirting? pet names

Masterlist

The only light illuminating your bedroom is the one that comes from your computer screen - bright, almost blinding, and making your eyes silently scream for sleep. 

You’re moments from giving in, from turning away from the chat room you’d found your way into a few weeks ago, hoping that you’d find someone to take the edge off your loneliness.

Unfortunately, all you’d managed to find was creepy 60 year old men begging to see your breasts. You weren’t here for it. 

A long yawn escapes you, the kind that makes you raise your arms over your head and extend your entire spine. You’re in the process of lowering your arms to exit out of the chat program, when a new IM appears on your screen.

[Sarge1917]: Hello.

You refrain from rolling your eyes, willing yourself to believe that this one won’t be a creep… but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your head, one that whispers: he’s just like the rest.

You reply anyway.

[SpaceKitten]: Hi there.

It takes a few moments before you receive a response.

[Sarge1917]: How are you?

You’re used to the first question someone asks you being “pics?” Or “dtf?” You can’t even think of one person on this god awful site that asked you how you were.

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly.. I’m exhausted. How are you?

His reply is almost instant this time.

[Sarge1917]: Oh, about the same. It’s pretty late where I am.. nearly morning, but I just can’t sleep. What’s got you up?

The fact that he has taken the time to try to have a normal conversation with you has you appalled… but also intrigued.

[SpaceKitten]: My mind won’t stop racing. I’m up all night, every night. I’d blame insomnia, but…

You hit the send button before you realize it. 

  [Sarge1917]: but…?

You don’t expect him to reply so quickly and you face an internal struggle: do you be honest, or do you lie? 

He’s a complete stranger, so why not tell the truth?

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly, I’ve never liked sleeping alone.. Once the sun sets and night takes over I.. I’m overwhelmed with how lonely I really am. I can’t stop thinking about it.

He doesn’t respond straight away this time, and you’re afraid you might’ve scared him off. Fiddling with a random toy on your desk, you anxiously await the sound of a new IM coming through.

[Sarge1917]: We have more in common than you think. I know that feeling, exactly, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’m sorry.

You’re chewing your lip as you re-read each word, letting it soak in. 

A total creep would never speak to you in such a sweet way, right? 

You decide to be brave.

[SpaceKitten]: I keep telling myself that Mr. Right will come along some day and sweep me off my feet, but.. The more I think about it, the more it seems unlikely.

[Sarge1917]: Why’s that?

You sit back in your chair for a moment, letting out a long sigh as you contemplate your response. You’d been honest with him so far, so why not continue on that note?

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly?

[Sarge1917]: Honestly.

Taking in a large breath, you write out your reply.

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly.. most of the men I’ve gone on dates with, and the ones I’ve met here only want one thing from me.. and I’m not looking for just that, you know? I want something.. real, I guess? That probably sounds stupid..

His response is delayed for a few moments, but when it finally shows on your screen, you have to bite back a smile.

[Sarge1917]: Not stupid at all.

[Sarge1917]: In fact, I’d like to apologize on behalf of all of the men who have made you feel like a sex object.

[Sarge1917]: Nowadays, most men are.. for a lack of a better word, pigs. It makes all of us look bad.

[Sarge1917]: You deserve better than that. You deserve to be treated like a goddess.

[SpaceKitten]: Oh, I don’t know about a ‘goddess’, but.. I’d like to at least be treated like a person.

[Sarge1917]: Like an equal.

[SpaceKitten]: It’s like you read my mind.

[Sarge1917]: (:

You’re not sure how late you stayed up talking to your new mystery friend, mostly because you end up falling asleep at the keyboard. The only reason you wake is the sun peeking through the curtains and directly on your face. 

The first thing you’re acutely aware of is that your back and neck are killing you. You’ve got drool stuck to your cheek and you’re quite sure the shape of the keys are embedded into the side of your face. 

You couldn’t look worse. 

The computer is still up and running, your chat app still open, along with your conversation.

You feel guilt flood your belly immediately.

While having such a pleasant conversation, you fall asleep on him? What kind of jerk does that make you?

The guilt starts to swirl and alter to another emotion as you read the last bit of your conversation over, the skin up your neck and to your cheeks burning with.. embarrassment? Desire? You weren’t sure.

[Sarge1917]: Well, kitten, it would appear you’ve fallen asleep on me. Can’t say I blame you, it’s nearly 7am here..

[Sarge1917]: I really enjoyed talking with you. And I’m glad I was able to help you find a way to sleep.

There’s a long time gap between the last message and the next.

[Sarge1917]: I was thinking.. maybe if you wanted.. we could talk again? I don’t know what it is, but.. I really would like to get to know you better.

[Sarge1917]: Would that be alright with you?

[Sarge1917]: I hope so.. Sweet dreams, kitten.

How could you possibly say no?

Night after night, week after week, you fall asleep at your desk messaging back and forth with Sarge. He’s sweet, charming and almost a little too perfect in some ways. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t grown attached - the kind of attached when chatting with him was the highlight of your day; the kind where you’d once spent an entire hour wondering what the color of his eyes were and if he has a beard or not. 

It’s the kind where you’re afraid that someday, he might disappear.

6 months later, you were still conversing every day, but that fear just seemed to grow and grow. How long would this last?

You’re in your usual spot at your computer with your usual snacks, listening to music. It’s late, your neighbors have already gone to sleep, and it almost feels like you’re the only person left awake in the entire world.

Until a new IM notification appears on your screen.

TAGS: (sorry if you dont like being tagged, its been so long since i’ve posted idk who to tag anymore lolol. @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx  @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl  @jayattemptstoruletheworld   @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec  @stevieang  @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl

[hellocatemonster]

never-ending survey: catelyn mallister

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Catelyn Brechtje Mallister

NICKNAME: Cate, rarely used.

AGE: 31

BIRTHDAY: 8/7 

ETHNIC GROUP: Hyur Highlander.

NATIONALITY: Ala Mhigan.

LANGUAGE/S: Eorzean.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.

HOME TOWN / AREA: Born in Ala Mhigo. Left at ten; lived in Coerthas until 21, when she moved into Ishgard proper.

CURRENT HOME: Ala Mhigan Quarter, apartment in the Sultana’s Breath in Ul’dah.

PROFESSION: Initiate of the newly-restored Fist of Rhalgr, Ala Mhigan Resistance fighter. 

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Wheat blonde.

EYES: Blue.

FACE:  Roughly heart-shaped with a sharp jawline and chin.

LIPS: Fuller than you might expect, rather plush lower lip with a rounded cupid’s bow on her upper lip.

COMPLEXION: Faded tan. 

BLEMISHES: Slight weathering along the cheekbones.

SCARS: Yes, and how.  Marks, made by dragon teeth, running along the left side of her torso from north to south, mirrored on her back. Scar along the left side of her collarbone from a former compound fracture, with a similar scar on her upper left arm. Claw marks wrapping around her upper right abdominal area to her flank. Various small nicks on her hands and other extremities. Burn scar on the back of her left calf, usually hidden by boots or pants.

TATTOOS: None.

HEIGHT:  5′8″

WEIGHT: 154 pz, give or take.

BUILD: Athletic and built.

FEATURES: Particularly well-developed thigh and calf muscles. Blue eyes that have been described as “luminous”.

ALLERGIES: None.

USUAL HAIR STYLE: High ponytail with a braid wrapped around the base. 

USUAL FACE LOOK: Red face paint applied diagonally across the cheekbones, with dots above each line and above her right eyebrow. 

USUAL CLOTHING: Casual clothing that’s easy to move and fight in. Fistwraps. A pendant with Rhalgr’s mark on it strung on a leather thong. Laced-up boots. 

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Powerlessness. Loss. Emptiness. Disconnection.

ASPIRATION/S: Reconnect with the homeland she left behind. Balance in her heart and soul. More concretely, becoming a full-fledged monk of the Fist.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Confident, empathetic, loyal, dedicated.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, reckless, impulsive, impatient, blunt. She’s working on it.

TEMPERAMENT: Generally fairly relaxed. Enthusiastic. Curious about other people. 

SOUL TYPE/S:  The Warrior.

ANIMALS: Big cats.

VICE HABIT/S: None.

FAITH: Devout follower of Rhalgr, the Destroyer.

GHOSTS?: Yes.

AFTERLIFE?: Yes.

REINCARNATION?: Possibly.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Anti-imperialism. 

EDUCATION LEVEL: Some homeschooling, mostly book-learned. Avid reader, especially of history and fiction, and is eager to be granted access to the remaining texts of the Fist of Rhalgr.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Alaric Mallister.

MOTHERS: Judda Stormsinger.

SIBLINGS: None.

EXTENDED FAMILY: Mother’s sister, Roslindis.

NAME MEANING/S: None in canon. In the real world, Caitlin and its variants mean “pure.”

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: History, particularly military and religious, of Ala Mhigo. Still fond of contemporary Ishgardian fiction.

DEITY: Rhalgr. 

HOLIDAY: Moonfire Festival.

MONTH: Fourth Umbral Moon (August)

SEASON: Summer.

PLACE: Gyr Abania.

WEATHER: No real preference, but particularly fond of thunderstorms.

SOUND / S: Rolling thunder, rain tapping on a roof, the slow breaths of meditation, the fast breaths of combat. 

SCENT / S: Cardamom and cinnamon. 

TASTE / S:  Meat simmered in wine, salt urchin, mint, dates.

FEEL / S:  Linen, coeurl fur, the smooth haft of a lance.

ANIMAL / S:  Cats, coeurls, tigers. 

NUMBER: None?

COLORS: Purple, gold, blue, red.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Very physically gifted--strong, agile, quick. Fast reader. Adaptive and pragmatic in combat. 

BAD AT: Knowing when to quit, not taking stupid risks, magic, tact.

TURN ONS: Height, a willingness to be a little rough (maybe more than a little), eye contact, scars, well-built bodies, deep voices, strength.

TURN OFFS: Insecurity, lack of conviction, overuse of snark or sarcasm, falseness.

HOBBIES: Sparring, swimming, eating something new (spicier the better), reading, meditation and prayer when she gets a moment.

TROPES: Blood Knight, Hair of Gold Heart of Gold, Close-Ranged Combatant, Big Eater, Jumped at the Call, Proud Warrior Race Girl, You CAN Go Home Again, Scars are Forever, Religious Bruiser, Action Girl

QUOTES: The words of House Graves: “Make Your Way”.

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  Shit, I dunno. Give her a superhero movie. Patty Jenkins, I’m calling, please pick up.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 :  Anything by Hole or the Donnas.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 : I fucking love warrior women. I also wanted this version of Catelyn to be warmer and kinder than some of her previous incarnations, but not without her own baggage and troubles. I like matching a character’s story to their ingame class or profession, so moving Catelyn from her original job of Dragoon to Monk has been kind of fun.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 : She’s the kind of person I wish I were. Her focus and determination are traits I admire. I’m also a big fan of tropes like warrior priests, found families, exiles, etc., so those have remained a constant across her iterations. Also interested in writing someone whose faith in a deity is very real.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Some glaring similarities to stories in the game. I always worry she’s too derivative, and lacks cohesion/focus. Some of the flaws present in her Warcraft self are missing here, and I hope that doesn’t damage her depth.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 : Stubbornness and loyalty.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?          

A7 : I think she’d want me to improve myself, and in improving myself improve my life. Plus, you know, “STOP PROCRASTINATING.”

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :  I really, really want her to interact with more Ala Mhigans. She’s been separated from her own people for a fairly long time. 

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse?        

A9 : Wonder Woman, Samus Aran, Jeanne D’Arc, Lyse Hext (as a foil), Asha Greyjoy, Tifa Lockheart. Music helps too.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 : Been working on it off and on for about an hour or so.

[fictional-affliction]

Under Pressure, Chapter 3

Rating: T (Next chapter will be M)

Words: 1,750

Link to previous chapter: https://fictional-affliction.tumblr.com/post/185639350520/under-pressure-chapter-2 

Saturday night had come too fast. Somehow as much as Courtney prayed that they would get a blizzard in the middle of April, which wasn’t too unlikely for Canada, there was no threat of bad weather in sight. Not that it would’ve stopped Geoff’s party from happening. He would just tell everyone to snowboard on over.

“We’re only staying for an hour, tops.” Courtney told Cate as they walked into Geoff’s house. Courtney looked around with the expected amount of disgust. Upon her first glance it was everything Courtney thought it would be.

The party was in full swing. There was electronic music playing by an artist that she’d never heard of, the scent of beer and liquor in the air, and teenagers doing various activities she frowned upon like playing beer pong and making out in public. Of course Lindsay and Tyler were among the people making out. They’d been dating for a month and Lindsay still couldn’t remember his name half of the time.

It was packed. Geoff’s parties were always open invitation. He was such a chill dude and was friends with everyone. All Courtney could think was that this was going to be a nightmare to clean up, and hope that for Bridgette’s sake Geoff wouldn’t be grounded until eternity if his parents found out. Speak of the devil, because Bridgette threw her arms around her.

“You came!” Bridgette was giddy and had a red solo cup of beer in hand. When she stepped back she looked Courtney up and down and almost spilled her drink as she gestured.

“Look at you!”

“The most she would let me do is curl her hair and put on mascara.” Cate exasperatedly complained. Courtney didn’t see the point in looking any different than she normally did. She’d put on a pair of jeans for once but wasn’t going to make an effort when this was going to be a quick trip.

“You’re lucky I let you leave the house in that skirt.” Courtney admonished Cate but Cate had spotted some of her friends and left without heading her words.

“C’mon Courtney loosen up! I’m so happy that you’re here!” Bridgette was definitely tipsy but Courtney still appreciated the sentiment. “And I know there’s someone else who’s been waiting all night for you to get here.”

Courtney already knew who she was referring too and rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m not staying for long.” Bridgette either didn’t hear her over the noise or chose not to listen, because she took her hand and guided her through the crowd until they had gotten to the kitchen.

“Babe, this girl needs a drink!” Bridgette called to Geoff who was uncapping a beer for himself.

“That won’t be necessary Bridge, I’m driving.” But Geoff was already handing her some concoction.

“Just have one drink now and you’ll be sober by the time you leave.” Geoff encouraged and Courtney took the drink. She had every intention of pouring it out into the nearest plant when no one was looking.

“So where’s the delinquent so can I prove that I’m here?”

“He’s around here somewhere.” Geoff scanned the crowd until he caught the sight of green hair.

“There he is!” Courtney followed his line of sight to see Duncan with his arm resting on a wall, the other holding a cigarette. She was mostly used to the bad habit by now, but the senior girl he was with, that was so obviously flirting with him, caught her off guard. The girl acted familiar with him. Her hand was on is shoulder and she kept whispering in his ear. Her short and tight dress showed off her long legs and if she bent over she would be exposing herself. Courtney tightened her hand, unconsciously crushing her cup. Some liquid spilled over onto the floor.

“Court!” Bridgette warned loudly and Courtney drew her attention to the mess.

“Shit, sorry Geoff.” Courtney hurried to find paper towels.

“No worries I’ll get it later.” Geoff assured her. Courtney wasn’t one to just be able to ignore a mess but Duncan heard the commotion and was staring right at her.

She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t. So it couldn’t have been jealously that made her clean her hand by sucking on her fingers. She told herself it wasn’t because she was jealous. Couldn’t be, but it was so satisfying when the senior girl, Amanda was her name if she recalled correctly,   looked offended that she’d lost his attention.

It was even more satisfying when he ditched Amanda for her.

“Can’t believe you actually came.”

“Not like I had a choice.” He looked genuinely happy to see her, so much so that his lingering smile was making her face tingle unexpectedly.

“So what is it that you do at these things?” Courtney asked and waited for specific instructions.

“There’s not an itinerary Princess, then again you don’t know how to have fun.”

“Just because my idea of fun isn’t the same as your’s-”

“Your idea of fun isn’t the same as anyone’s-”  Bridgette stepped between them.

“I know what we can do!” It wouldn’t be the first time Bridgette intervened when Duncan and Courtney started going at it, it was in her nature to be the peacemaker. Besides, a little friendly competition would occupy both of them.

-

A table was set up in the kitchen with teams on opposing sides. Everyone that was playing at the ready. Dj was watching closely by as the designated referee.

“One...two...three...go!” Dj prompted the teens to start chugging their drinks, LeShawna for the girl’s team and Owen for the boy’s. Down at the end of table, Duncan and Courtney were the last ones up for their teams.

“Sure you can handle this?” Courtney rolled her eyes at his attempt psych her out.

“If you’re trying to distract me it’s not going to work.” She trained her eyes on Bridgette, her whole body itching with anticipation. There was such a rush that went through her anytime she faced a competition, even if it was one as trivial at Flip Cup, it didn’t matter, she wanted to win.

On Bridgette’s second try her cup landed face down and Courtney let go of her inhibitions and downed the contents of her cup. She had started drinking before Duncan and was sure she would be victorious.

That was until he’d somehow flipped his cup before her.

“What! No way!” Courtney exclaimed in outrage.

“Sorry Court, the boys are really good at this game.” Bridgette tried to reassure her that the chances of them winning weren’t high to begin with.

“Malibu’s right, you didn’t stand a chance.” Duncan rubbed it in her face but Courtney wasn’t a quitter.

“I demand a rematch!”

“Courtney are you sure you want to-” Dj butt in, worried for Courtney’s lack of alcohol tolerance.

“I’m sure. Let’s go!”

Three more games later and the girls still hadn’t won.

“Face it Princess, you’re not gonna win this one.” Nevertheless, Courtney was relentless, and even if she didn’t have an advantage, she wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off of Duncan’s face.

“One more game.” Courtney narrowed her eyes at him. “This time, we start.”

“Whatever. It won’t change anything.”  They set up the game one more time and Dj reluctantly counted down again. Courtney eyes bore into Duncan’s as they both chugged and finished at the same time, but as Courtney went to flip her cup she made a point of bending over the table enough so that Duncan could see down her top.  

Duncan froze, his cup on the edge of the table poised to be flipped perfectly into place. She wouldn’t stoop that low would she? This was Courtney. The same Courtney who said women shouldn’t use their sexuality to get ahead. No way that she would do just that; but from Duncan’s point of view he could see her light pink bra and her full cleavage. Then she looked up at him with that not so innocent smile, and before he knew it she had flipped her cup.

“Dude!” Geoff prompted and Duncan came out of the trance. He struggled with his cup, overshooting and then undershooting. By the time Geoff got to start drinking, LeShawna flipped her cup and the girls were celebrating their victory.

“What happened bro?” Geoff asked Duncan, more concerned than upset at the loss.

“She cheated.” Duncan accused loudly enough for Courtney to hear him.

“Did I? Can you prove it?” Courtney raised her eyebrows expectantly, that same innocent look on her face. Admittedly the alcohol made her do it. With her inhibitions lowered and her need to win growing, it felt like a good idea at the time. Plus, Duncan’s face was priceless and she didn’t mind the attention when it was coming from him...

Duncan wasn’t about to tell Geoff or anyone else how easily he’d gotten distracted by barely getting a glimpse of her chest. He still had the image in his head and that alone was making it hard for him to think straight.

“You look a little frustrated. Maybe you need to cool off.” She really needed to be taught a lesson.

“Cool off you say?” Courtney was all smug smiles until Duncan picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“What are you doing!”  She cried out as he took her from the kitchen to the backyard. The air was chilly as it whipped Courtney’s hair into her face, obstructing her view. When she was able to tuck it behind her ears she saw that they were standing in front of the pool.

“Don’t you dare! Duncan. No. This isn’t funny.” She pleaded as she tried to get free.

“But I thought I needed to cool off.” Duncan took a step closer, not even minding how her nails dug into his back.

“I didn’t mean literally! You’ve made your point, now put me down!”

“Put you down?” He tilted them towards the water as if he was going to throw her in.

“Duncan this isn’t a joke! The water is freezing!”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before.” Duncan was getting a kick of out this but Courtney had learned her lesson so he put her down. Although, he hadn’t accounted for it being Courtney’s first time drinking and not being stable on her feet. As soon as she was upright again, the alcohol hit her. She swayed to one side and grabbed onto Duncan, and they both splashed into the pool.

[zerolites-sanctuary]

Kiss prompt drabble #2(Prompt #37)

Here’s another one, cuz holy heck this one prompt fits Don’t Escape 4 XD

F/O: David (Don’t Escape 4 days in the wasteland/4 Days to survive)

Warning: Time loop angst!

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

I fidget as I watch the pane of glass cover Cody and he falls asleep in the sleeper pod, to, go to another world, to escape this crumbling one. Cate’s already gotten in before so she’s already sleeping, and it’s just me and David.

I glance at the young man beside me to see his hands are shaking slightly as he took in a breath, the twenty-year-old turning to me.

“You get in next.” I say before he can say it, and his widening eyes show he wasn’t expecting it and I offer a weak grin. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I got in before you.”

He reads me better than I expect, and within two steps he’s gathered me in his arms, holding me tightly as I cling to him. I’m scared, I’m downright terrified about this whole thing, we’re in the lunar base Sidereal Plexus built on the moon trying to let our minds escape to another dimension by sleeping in these special pods, WHILE the moon is on it’s way to crashing into the earth.

Didn’t exactly do anything for my already frayed nerves if I’m honest.

“Okay, you get in yours right after me, okay Zero?” He says into my ear and I nod.

With reluctance, he lets go and I follow him over to his pod, watching him as he climbs in, but doesn’t lay down yet. He gestures me to come over, so I do so, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

His hands shake, but he quickly reaches up, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulls me to him. One hand quickly slips to the back of my head as he then begins to kiss me fervently, desperately, we don’t have a lot of time so he's going to make what time we have count.

I grip his arms and return it just as desperately as he was, I’m pretty sure my nails were making holes in his jacket sleeves, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. This could possibly be our last moments together at the end of the world.

After a few moments, we separate, hardly able to catch our breaths as we refuse to let go just yet.

“G...Good night David, I love you.” I manage to get out, offering a weak smile as his gaze never leaves mine. “I’ll see you there.”

“I love you more than anyone in the world Zero, if we aren’t together in the next life, let’s find each other, okay?” He replies, and I nod.

We then let go of each other,  and he lays down, clicking the button to start the glass lowering over him so the machine can work.

However, the base suddenly shakes and the main lights flicker off and everything audibly powers down, and the glass stops just before it was completely down, leaving a sliver open.

“T-The hell?!” I exclaim, and David looks around helplessly in his pod, unable to get out even if he wanted to, which would involve breaking the pod and rendering it useless.

Oho no, I am NOT going to let David remain stuck here, I remember that battery pack thing I put together a few days ago and make a beeline for the shared backpack near by, yanking out the crowbar, the knife and the battery pack.

The whole place is shaking, but I quickly tear up a floor tile near David’s pod with the crowbar, finding a set of wires running under it, having had to reroute power in building a few days ago, I make short work of the wires needed to be cut with the knife and use the battery packs clips to clip them into place, connected to the battery to finish the activating of the pod by tricking it into thinking the main power was back online.

It works like a charm, and his pod finishes closing as I hear him shout from the inside, clearly worried as I stand up, flash him a smile over my shoulder and book it for the control panel on the other side of the base, just a room away from this one.

As I run past the door that let us in, I peer to my left and I about trip over my goddamn feet as I see what’s going on. The Moon is crashing into earth and breaking into pieces, and it’s getting close to the base.

I about slam into the control panel once I’m in the room and start rapidly pressing buttons, rerouting power from now useless functions, like the communication system, they probably left it online incase they needed to call for help.

But the world ended over a year ago when the moon broke, there’s no one to call for help.

It works and main power is back online, just as I hear the glass overlooking the now crumbling moon to my left start to crack. As I’m turning away from the control panel, I spot a floppy disk on a lanyard on the ground which I snatch up as I bolt from the room, the door behind me closing just as I hear the glass break.

I take a look at the written words on the disc as I run into the sleeper pod room, “admin mem full transfer INSERT IN SLEEPER POD DRIVE”, that means it fits in the little drive slots I saw in the other pods, like the  “PHASE CTRL LITE” floppy David found!

Only instead of just boosting what memories get transferred, I know it fully transfers memories, especially considering it is put in the sleeper pod itself.

In my haste, I slide on my knees into my pod, insert the floppy before slamming my hand on the button to activate my pod.

I shift into a position on my back as the pod closes above me, and everything goes dark.

~~~~

I blink my eyes open, seeing a green tent above me, one very familiar to me as I shift, pulling the blanket up with me as I sit up, looking around as my heart drops.

Oh, gods no...!

I start sobbing into my hands after seeing the desert outside, the one I was all too familiar with. David comes back into the tent, starting to mention something about a dream he had of giant spiders killing us, and worriedly asks me what’s wrong once he sees my condition, but I can’t reply even as he holds me tight to his chest, trying to comfort me.

Again and again, this keeps happening! We’re stuck in a never ending loop! We keep ending up in worlds where everything goes to hell, and David only recalls previous parts of loops in dreams, while I, by my own choice ironically,

Remember every single one, giant locust, toxic gas cloud or giant spiders, freezing cold or burning heat, thugs coming to kill us or acid rain to destroy, then finally the moon falling, I recall every scenario of these four looping days, even if by the end I’m alone on the moon base...