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nightlyrequiem · 6 days ago

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Pen Pal

Bored and lonely you discover the world of prison pen pals and take on a recently convicted drug lord as yours.

AO3 w.c- 3,783 A/N- I'm not sure where I was going with this tbh. Just a fun little exercise I think. Also I wasn't going to proofread but I'm glad I did because there were so many grammatical errors 💀

Tags/Warnings- Inmate!Valeria, Friendship, Implied Developing Feelings, Open Ending, Prison, Post-Modern Warfare II

Beep.

You slide a can of soup across the scanner. It's dented at the edge and has an ugly yellow 'Half Off!' sticker falling off of the side.

Beep.

You work efficiently. Zoned out and scanning on autopilot, almost lulled into a trance by the robotic beeping of the other scanners around you. It's a scorching summer day and the AC is on full blast. Chilling you through your thin work uniform and sending your skin puckering with goosebumps.

Beep.

You scan the last item, a bag of whole grain bread and plaster a half-dead customer-service smile on your face.

"Thank you for shopping with us today, do you have a points account with us?" You ask. The man's face twitches with annoyance. He was probably bothered about signing up while he was shopping and you long to tell him that you hate it too, but you'll get into trouble if you don't ask.

"No." He replies, moving to start bagging up his groceries.

"Would you like to sign up for one? You can get forty-"

"I'm good, thanks." He interrupts you. The man bags his items and hurries off, leaving your till empty.

You sigh and lean against the counter. Resting your head on your hand. You feel exhausted. And not from the kind that can be fixed with a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep. (Not that you're getting that either.) It's the kind that seeps into your very bones and infects your blood like a disease. You can't believe you have at least fifty more years of this before you can retire. Muffled laughter to your right draws your attention and you glance over. Seeing two of your coworkers, Adrienna and Catalina, deep in conversation.

"I just can't believe he was actually a woman this entire time!" Adrianna says. Catalina nods eagerly.

"No, I know, I was shocked. Obviously, women can be evil and powerful or whatever, I just never thought about it much." Catalina replies.

"Are you guys talking about El Sin Nombre?" You ask, wanting to join in. "Did you know she was a part of the special forces for a while?" You look at the two women expectantly, but it seems they're too engrossed in each other to have heard you. Embarrassed, you awkwardly scratch your arm and glance around, wondering if anyone saw you getting ignored.

Las Almas was being terrorized by a faceless individual going by El Sin Nombre. Essentially the boogeyman. Nobody knew what he looked like or who he was, but everyone knew of his cutthroat cruelty. He popped up overnight like a pimple right after the death of the previous reigning drug lord, La Araña and his son. El Sin Nombre was bigger and badder. Had more men, more fire power, more control over the government. You still remember the events that led to her getting caught.

Foreign military had rolled in like they owned the place. Making everyone uncomfortable, almost as much as violent armed men that used to patrol the streets did. In a matter of days chaos erupted and the little quiet town of Las Almas was sent into a state of emergency. Especially when one of the militia groups went rogue and started raiding homes and illegally interrogating and accusing citizens of being involved in the cartel. You remember how scared you felt when you locked yourself down in your little apartment. Having to listen to the angry shouting outside and gunfire.

All of that resulted in the infamous El Sin Nombre being apprehended and arrested. Her identity being revealed to the public days later as Valeria Garza, a former Mexican Special Forces officer. Previously dishonorably discharged for killing hostages in some mission years and years ago. You had seen her picture on the news. Of her being led into the maximum security prison on the outskirts of the city. Privately, you thought her to be a good looking woman. Short dark hair, tan skin, and a face matured by age. Severe dark brown eyes narrowed defiantly. She exuded confidence and power, even in her mugshot.

But that's the last time anything excited has happened in Las Almas. You sigh and flick a dust ball off your register. That, and the recent break up you went through. Though even that was hardly interesting. Just two people who decided they were no longer compatible anymore. But you still miss them. Life is so lonely, even when you're surrounded by other people.

Six hours feels more like six days. But finally, you get to clock out and go home. Enjoying a warm, safe walk back to your apartment. Once inside however, you're less eager. It's quiet and empty inside your home. The only thing waiting for you being a sink full of dishes and a frozen TV dinner in the freezer. You change into shorts and a t-shirt and chuck your uniform into a corner. You pause by the sink and ultimately decide that it can sit for a few more hours. You treat yourself to computer time instead.

Having no social life, you spend most of your time scouring the internet for entertainment and communities you could squeeze yourself into. But even people on the internet fall into exclusive cliques. Your posts go ignored and you're too shy to even try using discord. So you content yourself with lurking instead. Your guilty pleasure is Reddit. You like reading other people's stories and discussions. You can pretend you're the jury passing on judgement though you rarely ever engage past upvoting or downvoting.

While you're scrolling through various different posts, one catches your eye and you click on it to read more. It's someone talking about their prisoner pen pal. Sharing some funny excerpt from one of their letters. The seed of an idea starts forming in your mind. You do some cautious research and find that there's a whole community surrounding the art of writing incarcerated people. Curiously, you do some deeper digging. Finding official websites with inmate's profiles. It's encouraged for them to stay in contact with the outside world. Something to do with helping with rehabilitation or something.

You look up all the female prisoners located in Las Alms. Browsing through an official government website. A familiar picture stops you from your bored scrolling. Dark hair and dark eyes glower at you through your computer screen. Along with a list of her name and public info. Valeria Garza, inmate 9989, and a long, long laundry list of crimes. She's currently being held in a penitentiary. Excitement gathers in your gut. You could send her a letter. Then you frown. Can you send a letter to someone in maximum security prison? You quickly google it and feel relieved to find that you can.

You push your laptop to the side and grab a pen and paper. Giddily writing out an introduction for yourself and asking her about herself. You re-write the letter a few times, the corner of your living room slowly growing with crumpled paper balls. At last, an hour and a half later, you perfect your first letter. Carefully reading it over. Though you're not even that hopeful she'll read it, let alone respond to you, you still grimace at the thought of it reading as awkward. You envelope it, write down the details on the face of it and then set out to hand it over to the post office.

* * *

Weeks pass by without a response, and even though you knew the likelihood of receiving one was low, you still find yourself feeling disappointed. It's probably for the best anyway. You shouldn't be starting up a communication with an infamous drug lord anyhow. You go about your life with ebbing excitement. Carrying out your grocery store shifts with all the enthusiasm of a rock. Life continues as usual. Customers continue to be entitled and borderline incompetent, your coworkers continue to ignore your exitance when they aren't asking you to cover their shifts, and you remain friendless both online and in real life.

But when you check your mailbox and sift through the bills, a certain envelope catches your eye. It's not the formal the kind that comes with bills. It's a letter, you realize with growing excitement. And it came from the Las Almas Penitentiary.

You hurry inside and slam the door behind you, throwing off your shoes with glee. You plop yourself down on your sofa and tear open the envelope, sliding out the letter inside. The scrawling handwriting is small and neat, but hard to read but it'll take a little more than illegibility to deter you.

'Hello. I was surprised to receive mail from a name I didn't recognize. I had assumed you were a journalist of some kind, but it was refreshing to learn that you are not. It's very sad that you're so desperate for human connection that you're resorting to writing letters to prisoners. I'll entertain you for now. There's not much else to do in here.

The food here is terrible, thank you for asking. I miss warm, home cooked meals. I miss fast food too. No, it's not scary in here. It would be for someone like you I expect. My reputation serves as a Sheild, though there are a few ballsy women who want the recognition that would come with killing me. They'll never be successful, of course. They do make us do work. I'm on janitorial duty. I have the very elating task of scrubbing toilets. With how filthy this place gets you'd think none of these women were ever potty trained. Most of them are just sick freaks who get off on making messes, I'm sure.

It's hard receiving news in here. Even with the contacts I do have. Anything interesting I'm missing out on in the outside world?'

The letter is fairly short, and a little cutting. Her snide comment about you being desperate, in particular. But you're too excited over actually getting a response. It's like being noticed by a celebrity. You re-read it, then grab a pen and paper and start working on your response. At first, you tell her how happy you are to have received a response, but then you realize that'll just earn you more mockery and snide remarks. So you scrap it and start over, trying to seem calmer and more collected. You express your sympathy for her food situation, and for her work situation. There's not much to tell her about the world. Because it hasn't really changed since she was arrested. You tell her as much, wondering if she'll feel relieved or disappointed by that fact.

You're in much brighter spirits after mailing off your letter. So much so that sometimes when you smile at customers and tell them to have a nice day, you actually mean it. Even staying late to cover Catalina's shift doesn't dampen your mood. You do inventory and clean and then walk home. Valeria's letter comes in two weeks later. In the same generic envelope, they give to all the prisoners. You curl up on the sofa and tear it open, a cup of warm tea beside you.

'Your sympathies are appreciated. It's a little disconcerting to hear that nothing has changed. It feels like all the work I did was pointless and I left no impact at all. I'm hoping that my presence is at least still felt on the streets of Las Almas. It would be terribly embarrassing for my efforts to have resulted in nothing changing. And so soon, too. I worked too hard to make Las Almas stronger.

Never mind that though. Aside from your desire to connect with anyone regardless of their quality as a person, I want to know why you chose me. You clearly know who I am and what I did. Are you a hybristophile? The more dangerous the better? You'll be sorely disappointed to find that I'm not receptive to that kind of thing. I have no intentions on entering a relationship. Especially not one borne from some odd fetish.

And to answer your question, yes people have sex in the showers. There's no such thing as shame in here. The water is also always cold. And shoes are a must or else you'll get a fungal infection in your feet. Showering is another thing I miss terribly. I haven't felt clean since I got here. You mentioned that you work at SunTown. How's that treating you? Do you plan on working there forever or do you have better plans for your life?'

You're offended that she thinks you're talking to her because you're weird. And you're hurt that she's brought up your job and the course of your life. As a matter of fact, you don't have any higher plans for your life. You've considered college many, many times but you can't think of anything you'd like enough to invest that time and money into. That being said, you don't want to work at SunTown Grocer for the rest of your life. But you suppose you shouldn't be shocked by her rudeness. Criminals aren't renowned for their manners.

You write her a response. Choosing to be a little abrasive yourself and subtly mocking her own predicament. You tell her you're a free bird going where the wind blows you. Code word for 'I have no direction in my life.' You also deny the hybristophile accusation. And call her presumptuous for assuming you were seeking a romantic relationship from her. You're bored and lonely, and conversing with a criminal kills two birds with one stone. You also have no intentions of trying to court her.

* * *

You and Valeria exchange letters back and forth over the course of four months. Slowly building an unexpected bond. Her snide comments become less hostile and more teasing, and in turn, you become more confident with your replies. You even open up to her about your life. Things deeper than just you not liking your job. You tell her about your ex, about your coworkers that you want to befriend but can't seem to no matter how hard you try. You also tell her how you're struggling with bills. Everything seems to be raising but your salary.

A week after you send your letter, a black duffel bag filled with five grand mysteriously shows up at your door. You almost choke at the sight of so much money. You know it has something to do with Valeria. and the thought makes you nervous. Her sending you money wasn't your intention when you told her about your financial struggles. You just wanted to vent. She never mentioned if she still had contact with her remaining free cartel cronies, but you suspect she does. This all but confirms it for you. Nothing else would explain the sudden appearance of money right after you complained about. What worries you is it potentially being dirty money. But shamefully, you don't turn it away. Valeria doesn't mention it in her reply letter, and you don't either.

What she does mention, is her desire to see who she's talking to. Something that makes you nervous. You're not sure if you want a drug lord knowing what you look like. But you started it by writing to her in the first place. And she has your address anyway. It really can't get worse than that. What's really making you nervous though, is what she'll think when she sees you. It would be so humiliating if she thought you were ugly and decided to stop talking to you. But you take a picture of yourself anyway. Dressing up casually but also nicely and using the best lighting and angles you can. You land on a nice picture of you by your living room window and print it out. Stuffing it into the envelope alongside your letter. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you walk down to the post office and hand it over.

The wait for her reply feels much longer than usual. There's a heavy fear inside of you that she won't respond at all. Getting ghosted by an inmate would probably be your last straw. But that doesn't happen. Her letter comes in two weeks later like always and you nervously read it.

'You look so much more normal than I was expecting. I'm actually kind of disappointed. I thought you'd be hideous from the way you describe yourself and how other people seem to treat you.

Anyway, I've added your name to the visitors registry. As nice as it is looking forward to your biweekly letters, I'd like to speak to you face to face sometime. It would be nice not having to wait weeks for a reply to a simple question. It would be nice to receive a casual visit for once. Come Thursday at six, we can have a real conversation then.'

Her assessment of your looks should offend you. But somehow being called 'normal looking' by Valeria makes it sound like a compliment. You re-read the last part of her letter multiple times. Wondering if you're seeing things right. She wants to meet you. Well, she's decided that you will meet by the sounds of it. You could just not go, but you know you'll be there after work.

Thursday comes fast and your shift goes by even faster. You're nervous and giddy to meet your pen pal in person. It occurs to you while you're stressing over your outfit that your feelings may have developed past curious. You don't want to dwell on that though. Choosing to ignore the idea completely. There's no future to be had with a convict who's going to spend the rest of her life behind bars.

The drive to the prison isn't too long. You're stopped at the gate and made to show your I.D. The man takes his sweet time to check if you're on the visitors list before finally letting you through. You find a place to park and walk inside, entering the lobby. There are a few people waiting in chairs. Some looking very down. You walk past them to the man at the front desk. He types away at the computer without acknowledging you. You stand there few a few awkward minutes, waiting for him to notice you but when he doesn't you clear your throat.

"Um, hi," You start. He looks at you with a bored expression. "I'm here to visit someone."

"Name?" He says. His voice is as inspired as he looks.

"Mine?" You ask uncertainly.

"Yes. And the prisoner you're here to see." He sighs.

"Oh." You tell him your name. "And I'm here to see Valeria Garza?"

At her name, the man perks up, one thick brow raising.

"... Okay. Go right through there. You'll be searched and then let through to the visitor's area." He tells you, pointing to a doorway to the right. You walk over and let an officer pat you down. you're nervous, like you accidently shoved all kinds of illegal things in your pockets on accident. But you're deemed safe and let through.

The room looks like you'd expect it to. One long table stretching from one side of the room to the other. with glass separating the visitors from the prisoners. There are three other people visiting, talking through a phone connected to the table. At the very end, clad in a beige jumpsuit and staring right at you is Valeria. Not wanting her to see how nervous you are, you walk towards her and take a seat in front of her. She looks different in person. Her hair is longer, and she looks tired. But there's still an aura of defiance surrounding her. Her expression is cool and detached. She picks up her phone and you do the same.

"Hi." You say.

"Hello." She replies. She doesn't say more, just blinks at you calmly. You shift in your seat. Is that it? All that anxiety and excitement just for some polite greetings?

"You're better looking in person." She speaks. Your face warms at the compliment. Yeah, you're definitely not harboring just friendly feelings for her.

"Thank you. You look... well." You say.

Valeria scoffs.

"As well as anyone in prison can look, I suppose. I'm certainly overdo for a haircut. I haven't had my hair touching my shoulders in years." She says.

"Oh. Well... it looks nice." You reply, smiling lightly.

Valeria's lips twitch upwards. "I guess it does. How have you been? Still trying to befriend those girls?" She sniffs disdainfully.

"No. They don't want anything to do with me and I'm fine with that." You say. Though you're still kind of sad about it. It's probably not personal but it's hard not to take it that way.

"Good." Valeria shrugs. "They're just a waste of time. Better to surround yourself with good, intelligent friends then to befriend just anyone because they're convenient."

"Intelligent huh?" You say dryly. It sounds like Valeria's referring to herself. She seems almost pleased to be your only real friend.

Valeria leans back in her chair.

"And how have you been financially?" She looks at you closely.

You stare back. "I've been good. Got some help from someone." You reply vaguely. Aware of the guards behind you.

"Good." Valeria nods assuredly. She leans closer and when she speaks again, her voice is lowered conspiratorially. "I'll be getting out soon. I wanted to tell you in person." Your eyes widen.

"They're releasing you already?" You ask quietly. You thought she got life. She smiles knowingly.

"Something like that." She says. "I thought you'd want to know. Seeing as we're such good friends and all." She says it like it's a secret that only the two of you share.

You smile back at her but something twinges in your gut. She makes it sound so sinister. You have a sneaking suspicion that something big is about to happen.

"Oh. Yeah, that's great to hear." You finally respond. "We can actually hang out."

"Mhm." Valeria nods, looking pleased. "It's good to have friends you can count on. Someone unassuming who will have your back."

You shift, feeling unsure now. "Of course. That's what friends do for each other."

"Good. I'm glad you agree." She says calmly. "I'll be seeing you real soon, and there won't be a sheet of plexiglass between us then."

Your time runs out and you stand. Looking at her through the glass. Something in her words tells you that's she's up to no good. And now you're somehow involved whether you want to or not. You just hope your feelings don't cloud your mind from doing the right thing.

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader #cod mwii #valeria garza cod #cod x reader #valeria garza x you #cod

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physalian · 4 months ago

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Beta Reader Checklist! (Suggestions)

Beta reading is highly, highly subjective, so take this whole post with a massive grain of salt. IMO, in short, more feedback is always safer than less feedback, unless the author states otherwise.

Like, if they ask you to do a final read through for any lingering issues, you can speed-read your way through the manuscript for general vibes and enjoyability. If this is the first round of edits and beta reads, the more you can give them, even if you think you're over-reaching, the better.

Thank you to all my betas thus far, absolutely no shade meant with this post. Everybody's got different expectations. This is meant to help anyone who's unsure about the task before them.

So I'm going to use some snippets from my seasoned beta reader's feedback from my upcoming novella for the variety of commentary you can give.

Positive vibes/reader reaction

Even if the manuscript is a hot mess, sending back a beta read with 0 good things to say is going to demoralize the author. Even if all you can say is "this is a cool concept that can benefit from a better execution," letting the author know that they've written something salvagable helps, especially if you can do it in the first few paragraphs.

Grammar and Syntax

You are not a line editor and should not be expected to line edit someone's first draft (and this beta got the ~7th draft). However, if you do see something while reading, there's no reason that you can't leave a suggestion.

Fun commentary

We authors like to know that the reader is connecting with the story. These comments tells me absolutely nothing helpful about bettering the manuscript, but they're human responses from a human reader and it's just nice to see. Beta readers are casual, you should be allowed to stay stuff like this.

Developmental edits

Beta readers generally come before the big expensive editor (if you ever hire one at all) which means the goal is more big picture, developmental commentary over splitting hairs about punctuation. This comment got me to add about half a paragraph's worth of extra narrative to expand upon, because I liked the suggestion.

Continuity and reader comprehension

This novella happens to be about a niche subject that not every layman reader will understand, so I have to find the line between overexplaining to those who know, and underexplaining to those who don't, without reading like a textbook. The top line I ended up leaving as I didn't think the risk of confusion was worth the added technical detail. The bottom line was a continuity error that I did have to fix.

Repetition and style

I'm an author who will always look for ways to lower my word count. Sometimes cutting a random line is better for the narrative than doubling down and trying to justify it with extra details. In this case, I over-used a motif, and happily saved myself 7 words.

Potential for extra detail

If you struggle with lengthening your word count, you can ask your betas to focus on where the narrative is thin and can benefit for more immersion and backstory. This beta leaves me comments everywhere suggesting places for extra sensory details, as I write very lean narratives with little fluff, and my consistency with sensory details varies widely.

All told, over 21k words of story, this beta left me exactly 100 comments, and a couple quick line edits within the text itself. It shows me, at the very least, that she was engaged with the story. The only time she doesn't leave me comments is when a scene is so intense that she forgets to make one.

The Reader Report

The reader report is a separate document from the manuscript copy that compiles and condenses the beta's thoughts into a much shorter format so the author doesn't have to scroll up and down constantly for a big picture takeaway. It also expands upon any commentary the beta had, but didn't want to put in a single tag within the narrative and is typically written after most of the manuscript has been read for overall thoughts.

This beta in particular knows what I like, which is breaking down the report by chapter (or parts in this case). The only thing missing from her delivery is a final conclusion that will answer the three big questions:

Did she like it?

Would she buy it?

Would she recommend it?

But it was also done in a rush and in her email she said I made her cry so I count that as a yes for all 3.

—

I did not implement every suggestion from her, but I did acknowledge where other readers might feel the same and weighed the pros of trying to satisfy everything vs maintaining my clear vision.

The benefit of the beta process, if you work with multiple betas, is having more than one reader's opinion, and why I don't think anyone should pay ridiculous fees for a developmental editor. My betas all had different opinions on this manuscript, and I can treat their feedback like a scatterplot, deciding on revisions with an average throughline.

At the end of the day, you write for yourself, not to please any one beta reader. They're suggestions, not rules, and even if your beta tells you they hate it, you at least learn who your target audience isn't, and what naysayers wouldn't like.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #beta reading #how to #editing #editing process #editing advice #indie publishing #fanfiction

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twignotstick · 1 year ago

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Flowers for Venus

She's here~ 🩵

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I really made a lot of assumptions here, so this must be emphasized.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Venus de Milo (TMNT), NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, experimentation, mental issues, perspective shifting, intentionally written to be confusing or leave out information at times, they are all family your honor

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): childhood trauma, abandonment issues, physical violence, repeated mentions of medical(?) procedures

Words: 6,472 🪦

Summary: Venus had one person in her life, and that was what mattered. Until she didn't.

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

“I'm going to fix your body.”

The young turtle gazed up into the glass chamber before him, observing the mangled, underdeveloped, and weak body within. The vitals displayed around it were at acceptable levels; nowhere near as good as needed to survive out of the chamber, but acceptable considering the circumstances.

Not acceptable to the young turtle in front of it.

“You should be out here, learning with me. Being my sister. So I'm going to fix you.”

The turtle within the chamber did not stir- only breathed, as blood was forcefully pumped through its nonfunctional veins.

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

“Huginn and Muninn helped me find more books to help you!”

Three- he had realized that the body in the chamber may not yet know his name, and so he introduced himself not long ago- bounced on the balls of his feet. He had one book clutched close to his chest, with others strewn about the workspace he had made around the chamber.

“Yokai biologists have very interesting methods! I plan on attempting some of them soon- Pops said he is going to get me some more materials before I try. He said that Witch Town will probably have what I need. The fusion of biology and mysticism is incredible! Oh! Oh! And!”

He dropped the book that he was holding on the floor carelessly, tripping over his own feet as he ran over to a table to show the body's closed eyes another. This one was thicker.

“Muninn says that this one was written by a human! ‘Mary Shelley’. It's called ‘Frankenstein’. I believe that's a name too- the surname of the main character. I haven't read it yet, because I haven't had time to. However, maybe with your improved cognitive function as of recently, it could be beneficial for me to read it to you!”

Three got no response, but he could have sworn that a part of the body's brain scan spiked.

“I can't start now. I have to finish my work on the developmental errors in your lower arm, but as soon as I finish that and find what I need to find, I'll start! I'm really curious about human literature.”

Three got to work, as the mind within the chamber grew curious.

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

She didn't quite know what time it was, but she knew what was supposed to happen at this time. The voice was supposed to make noises in the room- Three, that was his name- and he was supposed to talk to her. Her? She thought that sounded right.

Three had told her about pronouns. He had said that since she was biologically female, it was assumed that she would go by she and her. Just like he was male, and went by he and him.

He had said that her name was Five.

Even so, Three liked calling her Vee, justifying it with the reason that they “matched”. Five didn't quite understand where the name came from; perhaps how her name was spelled? F-I-V-E, that was what Three had told her. T-H-R-E-E, that was his. But he spelled Vee as V-E-E. Maybe that's why they matched. Both had two E's in their name.

Their names were numbers too. One, two, three, four, five. She wondered why she was Five, and he was Three. Where were One, Two, and Four? Were they there, but she couldn't hear them? Was Pops another name for One? Pops and One weren't anything alike. She wished she could ask all the questions she had in her mind.

She wished she could see. Maybe that would explain why Three hadn't spoken yet.

Just when she was starting to believe that he may not speak to her this time, Three made noise. She couldn't see, but he stumbled through the door and sat down in a chair near her with a smile on his face. He looked at her, she could feel it.

“I'm sorry I'm home late, Vee. I met a new friend today! But don't tell Pops. He's a human.”

Five knew that word. Weren't those bad?

“Timothy isn't like other humans, though. He's nice! He showed me some insects and told me their names. Surface bugs are very different from normal ones! I think I might ask Huginn and Muninn to retrieve me some books on surface entomology. I can tell them that it's biological research.”

Entomology. That's a big word. What does that mean?

“Entomology means the study of insects, by the way. It's a very interesting branch of science. Timothy said he has books that tell him the names of different insects at his house. Oh, and a house is where humans usually live. Not a lab, like we live in. Or… a glass chamber, like you live in! Though, technically your chamber is within the lab.”

The lab. She wondered what the lab looked like.

“I think that I may be able to replace your eyes soon. I've been developing a prototype, hopefully it shouldn't take me too long to finish! From there, I just have to work really hard to get your other physical errors fixed, and then you can come out here! Maybe I can even bring you to meet Timothy!”

Timothy. That was a nice name. Not as good as Three or Vee, though. They matched. Though, maybe Timothy matched too. She didn't know how to spell Timothy yet.

Maybe they could match anyway.

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

Three stumbled in today. Vee couldn't see it, of course, but Three had tripped, holding in tears. His chest just wouldn't stop hurting. Pops had said he could walk it off, so that is what he tried to do.

He couldn't walk much longer, falling to the floor in front of Vee's chamber. She enjoyed hearing the sound of his breathing, but she never liked it when he breathed this heavily. That meant he was hurt and crying. That meant Pops had done an experiment or a test. That meant Three didn't have the power to work on her body. He would always apologize for that. Of course, that never stopped him. She always heard him working.

“...V-Vee…”

That is her name. He loves to remind her of that.

“M-maybe…” Three gasped deeply, holding the breath for longer than he should before slowly releasing it. “Maybe if… I finish you… he w-won't do this to m-me anymo-ore…”

Vee couldn't feel his eyes on her. Until she could.

“I've shown him y-your guts alr-ready, though… maybe he won't won't w-want to v-vi…vivi…”

That's not how he's supposed to say her name. It's Vee.

“...Vee? Vee~”

That's right.

“Veeveeveevee…”

Is that right?

The mumbling of her name faded away, turning into slow rasping breaths.

She didn't want him to be hurt and crying anymore.

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

“I want to make you as strong as One is. Or, at least, he should be. I haven't met One. Or Two. Or Four. But Pops says that it's impossible for you to be that strong. You're a box turtle, designed for defense. Anyhow, it's more important that I develop your muscle mass enough for you to stand independently first.”

Vee wondered what One, Two, and Four sounded like. Maybe their voices were jumpy and squeaky like Three's was now. Maybe they were sweet, like his was before. She wondered what Pops sounded like.

“Four is a box turtle like you. He developed properly, but don't feel bad! He got stolen away, so really, he got the short end of the stick! You're living the life of luxury.”

So many types of turtle. Did that mean they couldn't match anymore?

“I showed Timothy some sketches of my work with you. He got this really weird look on his face, and I thought he might not believe that I could fix you. But, he promised that he did believe in me! And he said he can't wait to meet you!”

Surely, he was just jealous of Three's hard work.

“I'm still working on your eyes. They're causing me more problems than I thought they would, but I think I'm getting closer to a functional product! It's just taking a while to find a good base that can survive the transfer.”

Eyes. One more sense. He taught her the five: touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing. She had hearing- or at least, she believed she did. She didn't know what else this could be. To have two senses would be marvelous.

Three's voice went away, leaving a rubbing sound. He had told her what that was. It meant he was “rubbing his hands together”. It was a “nervous habit”.

“Pops told me… he told me that talking to you was ‘fueling my delusion’. I know that, logically, you're comatose. Your body isn't supposed to work right now, for the sake of your life.”

That made sense. She was hurt. Three said that if she came out of her coma as she was now, she would die. Dying wasn't a good thing.

“But I really want you to hear me. Even subconsciously. So- so that way, when you do wake up, we'll already be friends! A-and you'll already know so much about me, so I just need to know about you!”

That sounded nice. Vee wanted to tell him about herself. Maybe she'd know just what that meant by the time she got the chance.

“I promise I'm going to fix you soon. It'll be no problem!”

Vee liked that.

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

Three was hurt and crying again. But this time, he didn't come to collapse by her chamber. He was far away, in the workspace. Vee didn't want him to be hurt and crying anymore. Three had said that hurt could mean dying. Three couldn't die yet. Vee still had to tell him everything about herself.

He wasn't even saying her name this time. He was saying the human's. He was hard to hear, so quiet, so far.

Timothy.

I'm sorry, Timothy.

What does that mean?

I'm so, so sorry.

What does that mean, Three?

Please, Tim.

Three?

Please forgive me.

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

Three?

Three, please. She wants to understand. She wants to know you.

I want to know you. Talk to me, please. Tell me everything. Tell me about Mary Shelley. Tell me about entomology. Tell me about One. Tell me about Two. Tell me about Four. Tell me about Pops. Tell me what you're working on. Tell me how you want me to be better already so I can hold your hand and talk back. Let me hold your hand.

Tell me what's wrong.

“---ee? Vee, I'm ---y, I'm here, plea--- calm down. I'm here, please. Do I need- do I need to sedate her? I-”

He's not crying anymore. He's talking to her.

“Vee? Five?”

That's right.

“Should I read to you? W-Would you like that?”

She would.

“P-progress report 13. May 23rd. It happened today. Algernon bit me.”

Flowers for Algernon. Surface literature. Of course he would read surface literature now. He was just thinking of Timothy.

Every time Three would read this specific story to her, he would explain that the first few progress reports were intentionally written with poor spelling and grammar. He would spend the whole time explaining the correct way to write the sentences, up until the writing became legible. Then, when the writing returned to its sorry state, he would resume his corrections.

“I visited the lab to see him as I do occasionally, and when I took him out of his cage, he snapped at my hand.”

Vee knew the end of this story.

“I put him back and watched him for a while. He was unusually disturbed and vicious.”

It never ended nicely. They always had to die.

“May 24th. Burt, who is in charge of the experimental animals, tells me that Algernon is changing.”

She didn't want anyone else to die.

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

Something was different. Where once there was a lack of anything, now there was something. Something Vee didn't have the knowledge to understand just yet. She couldn't understand light. She couldn't understand color. Now, it was right in front of her.

A blur of a color she didn't know the name of, green, with a dash of another, purple. Three's voice came from it.

“Eyelids are open. Should be working. Just one last test-”

Three grabbed a small blur- a silver flashlight- and shined it into her eyes. Her muscles instinctively tried to close her eyelids, but there just wasn't enough power behind it. They stayed open enough for Three to see the pupils constrict.

“Yes. Yes! YES! They work! Yes!”

Three sounded happy. That was good. Maybe he looked happy, too. Vee didn't know what happy looked like yet.

“...I have to show Pops. I have to show Pops! Wait! Stay right there!”

Three left the room, and Vee thought deeply. “They work”. Three had said that her eyes “didn't work yet” before. So that must mean that they work now. That meant that she was seeing. This was what she had been looking forward to ever since Three had attempted to explain the abstract concept of seeing.

This was it.

Those colors. The nameless ones that she didn't know- the ones she didn't even know how to identify as colors- that was Three. That was the face of the voice who had been her only comfort for all of time. That was the face of the person she wanted to comfort. The voice that she heard crying and hurting. The person she wanted to hold the hand of.

The door to the room opened again, and Three returned with a taller figure. Vee had never heard him before, she was sure of that when he got close for her to hear his breathing. Maybe she could have seen him before. He was tall, and covered with new colors. She couldn't name them, but they were gold, blue, and magenta.

“Look! Look! Her eyes are functional now! They constrict and dilate! Watch!”

Three held the light to her eyes once more, and her pupils shrank again.

The new voice only grunted.

“She's so close to completion now! Th-there are only a few more developmental errors, and she just needs a little more muscle mass-”

The tall figure lashed out at Three, as another color, magenta and pink, writhing, latched around Three's throat. He was held off the floor, just a few feet. His happy breathing stopped.

“You have obsessed over this project for too long. Your progress has been agonizingly slow, and this is what you have to show for it?”

A new voice. Deeper. More menacing.

Pops.

Three gasped for air, trying to respond.

“I suppose I must also involve myself. Your inefficiency up to this point will not be forgotten.”

The writhing mass slammed Three into the floor as the tall figure walked away, shutting the door behind himself.

Three heaved shaky breaths from his spot in front of Vee's chamber. He almost sounded like he was crying and hurting.

Was this what crying and hurting looked like? Curling over yourself? Was that what she was doing? She was supposed to be hurting. She didn't think she was crying, though. Could you hurt and not cry?

Could you cry and not hurt?

Three moved onto his knees, placing one hand on the glass. His face looked different, as if the light reflected off of it differently. His eyes looked at her. For the first time, she could feel and see it.

“I'm going to get you out soon. Then… then you can be here with me. And Pops will be proud. And I'll have you, my sister. Forever, and ever, and ever. And no one will take you from me.”

Three smiled, leaning against the glass and falling asleep.

That sounded nice.

-----------🕷️-----------

“What is this?”

Vee stood over Three at his workbench, looking down at the sketch he was working on. It looked familiar, like other ones he had made, but the notes around the margins were different.

“Oh, it's another collar for Big Mama. She has someone joining the Nexus who has some immunity to electricity, so I have to work on an alternative design…”

“How does it work?”

Three looked up at Vee as she smiled softly. She loved doing this. Getting him talking about the things he knew about.

“Okay, well, since the regular electric shock won't result in what we're going for, I have to find another method of keeping the fighter in line. So- so this collar is designed to tap straight into the nerves in the neck- focusing mainly on the more secondary nerves, but also creating a pathway to the spinal column if needed. With this, the nerves can be pinched all at once, effectively paralyzing the wearer!”

Vee looked over the sketch, resting a hand on the desk next to it. “And why is this collar shaped so differently?”

Three brightened again. “Oh, well, for one, to create a visual distinction that makes it easier for Big Mama to know what type of collar it is. But also, because the specific yokai has… no neck? Sort of? They have shoulders, but it would be somewhat easy for them to slip a standard collar off. So, alternative design! And this one can be green.”

“Very good. I'm sure Mother would appreciate the change in aesthetic.”

The stone in her pocket began to glow.

“Speak of the Devil, I suppose.”

Five slipped her mask on quickly, then answered the call. “Hello, Mother.”

“Turtley-boo! Hello! Where are you, my dear? I couldn't find you!”

“I had to deliver this week's recording to Three. I'll be returning home shortly.”

“I would hope so! Everything here is always such a tissy-tassle when you're over at that terrible place. Oh, do come home quickly, please. Your mama is getting lonely.”

Vee looked to Three, and they exchanged a soft look, even behind Vee's emotionless mask. “I'll be there in a moment, Mother.”

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

This was wrong.

This was all wrong.

She was supposed to be worried about being taken from him.

What could she do, now that he was taken from her?

Four was gone. Then Two was gone. Vee thought, surely Three wouldn't be that dumb. Three was smart. He cared about her. He wouldn't leave her.

So where was he now? On the surface, living with rats and humans.

And she was left behind. Stuck under the thumb of a spider that claimed to be her mother. Forced to witness the violent aftermath that had come when Three disappeared, as Lord Draxum berated her and her mother for letting Three get such delusional thoughts in his head. Ideas that made him weak and stupid. Hopes that his family cared for him.

But he left his family, didn't he?

She was supposed to be his sister.

And he left, in search of a family that didn't even know his name. His face. His voice. That voice was supposed to be hers. The one who took care of her. The one that fixed her.

Draxum may have caused her birth, but Three gave her life.

Didn't that matter to him?

She had been so scared of being taken from him, Vee didn't even consider the idea that he may be taken from her.

Fighting against him was something from her worst nightmares.

This couldn't be happening.

This was all wrong.

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

Empty apologies.

He left, all because of a stupid dream he had been chasing. He left the family he had because of some dumb idea of a family that he had romanticized in his head. He left her.

Maybe he never cared about her anyway. She was just a toy to pass the time.

She wasn't real, anyway. Just a monstrous body given life.

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

“Hi, Vee!”

Four approached her, sitting down cross legged on the floor beside her. He examined the blade she had been sharpening with an odd fascination.

“Where'd you get that?” He asked innocently.

“From Mother.”

Four straightened. “O-oh. Guess I shoulda… guessed that, huh?”

“Maybe.” Of course he should have. Who wouldn't recognize one of Big Mama's weapons?

“Hmm…” Four rocked back and forth, holding his feet. “Do you feel alright with me calling you Vee? I know that's what Donnie calls you, but I know he has like… a thing with names.”

“I’m Five,” she said bluntly, looking up at Four for a moment. “But I don't mind being called Vee.”

“Cool!” Four smiled, almost as sweetly as she remembered Three doing. “What's it short for?”

Vee paused and looked back up at Four. “Sorry?”

Four blinked. “...Vee. What's it short for?”

She squinted. “It stands for the roman numeral for Five. It isn't ‘short’ for anything.”

“Oh. Well, that's not right.” Four shook his head disapprovingly. “You need to match with us!”

That made Vee think. “Match?”

“Yeah!” Four shifted to sit on his knees. “See, cause I'm called Mikey. That's short for Michelangelo. He was a human artist in the Renaissance. And Raph is Raph, short for Raphael. And Leo is Leo, short for Leonardo. And Donnie is Donnie, short for Donatello!”

Vee put her blade down on the ground, giving Mikey all of her attention. “So they match because they're all artists?”

“Well, and since they're from the Renaissance, and since we've all got nicknames!” Mikey grinned. “Do you… want a name that matches with ours?”

“Yes.” Vee answered before she could really think about what she was saying. “I-I mean, I don't really need one, but-”

“Sweet!” Mikey patted his hands on the ground. “Now, what names could work… Genevieve? No, that would be Jenny… Vivian? Nah, that's not good enough. Oh!”

“What?”

“Well, I know all of our names are from artists, but, uh, what if your name was from a piece of art?”

Vee thought for a moment. It was certainly true that she wasn't like the other turtles. Obviously, her name would have to reflect that.

Though, maybe being a work of art wouldn't be so bad.

“Sure. But tell me the name before I agree to anything.”

Mikey's expression suddenly shifted to a more serious one. “Of course. How about… Venus de Milo?”

Venus de Milo.

“...what is it?”

“It's a statue from ancient Greece. She sorta got her arms ripped off, but she's still incredibly beautiful and detailed, and a very widely known masterpiece! Wait, lemme see if I've got internet-”

Mikey fumbled with his phone, desperately trying to gather some internet signal in the depths of the Hidden City. Meanwhile, Vee simmered in the thought. A statue, broken, never to be truly as it was before. And yet, it was beautiful, not just because of what it still had, but because it had lost. It had persevered. Because something so beautiful was never truly perfect. That was what allowed it to be beautiful instead.

Maybe that beauty made it perfect, anyway.

“I like it.”

Mikey's eyes flitted up from his hunch over his phone. “Oh? Great!” He corrected his posture. “How ‘bout you try it out? Introduce yourself to me!”

Vee cleared her throat, checking her own posture out of habit. “Hello, Michelangelo. My name is Venus de Milo. You may call me Vee.” She extended her hand for a handshake. Mikey met it vehemently.

“Perfect! Now, you match with all of us! Man, the teamwork and collaboration on this mission is gonna be on point!”

Venus smiled, turning the interaction around in her head.

Maybe she could be a masterpiece.

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

Donnie loved to talk. Vee always knew that. But, for too long, she had never noticed how much he loved to be listened to; to have another directly engaging in the conversation. Once she learned that, she learned that she had a love for listening.

It was sometimes hard for her to understand her own wants without comparing them to the wants of others. She loved to listen because Donnie loved to talk. She loved to spar because that made Raph happy. She loved to ask questions so Leo could explain the nonsensical movies he showed her. She loved to eat because Mikey loved to cook.

But right now, none of that really mattered. Donnie was talking, and Vee loved to listen.

“Splinter told me that I could make him, as long as I make sure he doesn't turn, like, evil or anything. Though, honestly, if a robot uprising were to happen, I think it would be smart to just accept fate.”

Donnie was cleaning up some sort of schematic on a bean bag as a movie played on the TV. Vee sat next to him, not paying attention to the film at all. Screams about hot food went in one ear and out the other.

“So these are the plans you have so far?”

“Exactly!” Donnie brightened, then slumped as he came to a realization. “He's actually based on a design I made before you got out of your chamber. P-... Draxum destroyed that one, though.”

“Oh.” Vee slumped a bit as well. “I wish I could have seen it. Maybe I'd be more helpful now with these designs.”

“Uh, y-you don't have to worry about it!” Donnie waved his arms frantically. “It was my fault you were stuck in there anyway.”

“No it wasn't.” Vee looked at him blankly. “It was Lord Draxum's fault. He made me faulty. You helped me. You fixed my body.”

Donnie flustered, scratching at his neck. “W-well, not really. I didn't even-”

“You gave me my eyes. You gave me purpose.”

He looked at his sister, hands shaking almost invisibly where they gripped his sketching paper. Something strange came to his eyes- a shimmer, one that she knew. “I-I'm-”

“If you say you're sorry one more time, I might just rip your tongue out.”

“But I am! In more words than I can say, I am! You cared about me so much, and I just left you without a second thought. No apology I can give can ever make up for that.”

Vee sighed, shaking her head, looking at Donnie with tired eyes. “You're right.”

Donnie's nervous energy evaporated and he stilled.

“No apology will ever be enough. When you apologized to me, I didn't forgive you. When you apologized to me, I hated you.”

Venus paused, questioning whether or not she should continue. When Donnie gave no reaction, she decided to.

“When you tried to explain what had happened, I hated you. When you asked for my help, invited me in, told me you wanted me back, I hated you.”

Genuine tears started to well up in custom built eyes.

“B-because… because I couldn't believe you. You left me, and that was what was real. That was what mattered.”

Donnie took a breath in, as if to add something, but ultimately decided against it.

“Part of me still doesn't believe you.”

Months of worrying. Months of waiting. Months of simmering in hatred for the one person she had convinced herself she could trust. Months of wondering, “Would he have stayed if I had been better?” Months of unbridled rage towards her creator, who couldn't have waited just a little longer to make her right. Months thinking of her other so called “brothers” who stole her brother away.

He said no one could take her from him. So why would he throw her away?

“But you showed me otherwise.”

She never knew how to put these things into words. There was something difficult about bringing her thoughts out in that way. Because of this, she could never really tell Donnie how it felt when he first showed her that room he had prepared, which he left mostly empty for her to decorate herself. She could never explain how it felt when Splinter traced her stitches, complimenting how wonderfully they framed her features. She could never properly thank Raph for expressing his admiration for her fighting style. She couldn't express the joy she felt when she saw Leo do something that would make him feel embarrassed hours later. She could never say anything more than “It’s great” when eating one of Mikey's meals, one that should make a food critic cry.

“So you don't need to apologize anymore. You showed me how you cared, and that's all that matters now.”

Vee grabbed Donnie's hand, and the two shared a wordless understanding.

You can cry and not hurt.

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

Vee woke up to the sound of someone else moving around the lair. All of her brothers were still covered in blankets around her, and a blank tarp hung on the wall stood in front of her that she vaguely remembered watching a projected video essay on before she fell into slumber. There was only one person missing from the scene…

As she pushed herself to her feet and walked into the hall, Vee came face to face with a still bonnet wearing April.

“Oh, morning, Vee!” April greeted energetically. “What're you doing up already?”

“This is a normal time to wake up, isn't it? You're awake.”

April hummed. “I guess you're right. I'm just used to the guys sleeping in super late. You hungry?”

Vee nodded, following April silently into the kitchen. Just a short time ago, she would have wanted to cut April's head off, purely because of her human existence. Now, she felt a strange, foreign comfort around the human. Not quite like she felt with her brother, or her other brothers, but something akin to it.

April started loading up the toaster, grabbing some spreads and setting them out on the counter.

“Got any plans today, Miss Milo?”

Vee chuckled. “It's Miss de Milo, and, uh, no. You got any plans, Miss Neil?”

April laughed in turn. “Actually, I do. And since you don't have any, I was hoping you might help me out with mine.”

Vee nodded, letting her continue.

“I brought some stuff from my place to do a spa day, slash makeover day. Figured you might want to join in.”

Vee thought for a moment. “I know what a spa day is, but what is a ‘makeover’?”

“Well, it's like,” she hesitated, “it's when you put on a ton of makeup and wear fancy clothes and stuff. Not because you're not pretty, but it's just… it's a way of making yourself feel good, y'know? You've worn makeup before, right?”

“No.” Vee shrank slightly. “Mother said that it would be a lost cause. That's why she gave me the mask instead.”

“Oh.” April shook her head, scrunching her nose. “Oh, no, no. That's not gonna work. You are going to be pampered, Miss de Milo. That is an order.”

April strode out of the kitchen, and Vee followed slowly behind. Before she could see where April had gone, there was the telltale sound of a pillow being thrown into someone's face.

“Owf- wha- hey! What was that for?” Leo grumbled through the grogginess of waking up.

“We've got a busy day ahead, boys! Gotta eat breakfast so we can get to work!”

“Busy day?” Mikey asked, slightly more cognizant than Leo. “What are we doing?”

“Makeovers. All of us!”

Vee finally caught sight of April in the hallway of the living room as she saw Donnie jumping up from where he was laying. “Are we gonna do nails?!” He shouted excitedly, running up in front of April. “Can I pick the colors?”

“Of course you can, bud. Just go eat some toast first,” April responded, patting his shoulder.

Donnie hurried to the kitchen followed by his brothers, who were all still wiping the sleep from their eyes. After that, breakfast went quickly.

Raph drug a stool into the bathroom in front of the mirror, where Vee was instructed to sit. Soon, she was surrounded by her brothers and April, with a large makeup bag in the human's hands. She put the bag down on the counter, taking out a liquid foundation in the perfect hue for Vee's skin.

“Where do you even find this stuff? Party City?” Leo asked, taking out another foundation from the bag that matched his own skin.

“No,” April scoffed, preparing her workspace, “I get it online. Its makeup, not face paint. It just happens to be green. Are you complaining?”

“No, ma'am.” Leo quickly shut himself up.

“Good. Now, let's get some jobs set straight.” April started gesturing to the brothers one by one. “Donnie, you're in charge of picking colors out, and themes. Mike, you're executing Donnie's ideas, because his hands are way too shaky. Raph, my bag's in the other room, go pick something out. You'll know what I mean when you get there. And Leo, you're in charge of music and talking. Tea spilling, gossip, whatever.”

All of the turtles nodded in response, and Raph walked out to find April's bag.

“Now, Vee.” April put her hands on Vee's shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. “You just sit here, close your eyes, and relax. We've got it all handled.”

“Okay.” Vee hesitated, closing her eyes slowly, before shooting them open again. “Wait!”

April hummed, hovering the makeup sponge she had prepared in the air.

“Can you, uh… can you leave my stitches? Not cover them up, I mean.” She couldn't help casting a glance at Donnie, who gave a timid smile.

April relaxed. “Course, Vee. Now, close your eyes and let us work our magic!”

Vee complied, and she found herself surrounded by sounds. A strange nostalgia filled her chest.

“What we thinking, D?”

“How about, uh… this?”

“Ooo! Perfect! Can I get, uh… that one first?... Thanks! Okay Vee, I'm gonna grab your hand now. It's gonna be cold!”

“What am I supposed to even talk about? I don't have any tea.”

No need for sight. Hearing those voices, comforting her. With a slight drone of music alongside.

“How about your date with Usagi?”

“Wh- April! It wasn't a date!”

“Hey! No shoving! This is a delicate art, Leo!”

“Ugh, fine.” Another shove.

“Hey! No shoving me either! I didn't even say anything!”

“Yeah, but April's busy, Mikey's busy, and you gave me a weird look.”

“I gave you a normal look. You obviously went on a date. Vee, you know?”

Vee laughed just a bit, trying not to move and disturb April's work. “Donnie's right. It was pretty clearly a date.”

“No, it wasn't!”

“Just tell us what you did, Leo.”

Unlike before, she had other senses. But somehow, removing this one made her feel comfortable. Knowing that someone else was taking care of her felt so good.

When she felt Donnie's scar covered, calloused hand grab onto hers, the comfort felt warmer.

“We didn't even-”

“Hey, April? How's this one?”

“I think it's great, but how ‘bout you ask Mister Manicure?”

“Oh. Mike?”

“That's perfect, Raph! You got any accessories?”

“Maybe in my room… lemme go check.”

The sound of heavy footfalls walking away.

“Alright, I'm gonna be working on your eyelids, so it's gonna feel a little weird. Just try to stay loose.”

“Ooo, you are gonna look so good!”

Vee allowed the sound to envelop her entirely.

“Listen, we didn't go on a date, we aren't even a thing anyways.”

“I'm going to fix your body.”

“Usagi would be very hurt it he heard that. You wanna tell him, D?”

“You should be out here, learning with me.”

“I can text him right away-”

“NO!”

“Being my sister.”

“Just admit it, Leo! You're down bad for the bunny!”

“He still hasn't admitted that?”

“No, Raph! Because I'm not ‘down bad’!”

“So I'm going to fix you.”

“Okay, keep the volume down. I gotta concentrate…”

Time passed shapelessly. Vee interacted in the conversation when asked, but otherwise, she let the noise flow over herself. Before she knew it, she was being told to stand up and having fabric pulled onto her arms, with a ribbon being tied over her shell.

“Okay, okay, just a few more touches-”

“You've been doing ‘a few more touches’ for five minutes, Donnie. She looks great!”

“SHH! Don't rush perfection, Nardo.”

Vee blushed. “You really think I look perfect?”

She felt Donnie's eyes on her. “You always have.”

Mikey awed. “Okay, okay, okay, now you can look!”

Vee opened her eyes, just as Donnie moved to the side so she could see herself in the mirror. She saw that the fabric put on her was a dress, very light blue and with flowery embroidery patterning on the bottom of the knee-length skirt. Her claws were painted with pastel colors, with a light blue backdrop behind white daisies, each having an undertone of a different color: reddish-pink, blue, orange, purple, yellow, and green. On her face, a soft blue eyeshadow was put on her eyelids, with small painted daisies incorporated into her eyeliner. Similar flowery bows were placed down the length of her braided mask tails. Donnie quickly shuffled behind her to put a necklace on her neck, with a daisy shaped pendant.

Vee found herself speechless, staring at the stranger that had been pulled out of her own skin.

“Is it alright?” April asked hesitantly.

As she rubbed her lips together, Vee forced herself to look up at the ceiling. She waved her hands at her face.

“Oh- Oh! Its waterproof! You're good!”

“It is?!” Vee squeaked, struggling to hold herself together.

“Yeah, yeah, it is!”

“That's s-so cool!” Vee finally let her tears loose, still waving at her face while nervously laughing.

“You like it? Do you like the flowers? It was Donnie's idea!” Mikey asked, beaming as bright as the sun.

“Yes! Yes, I do, thank you!” Vee paused in her flapping to look over her hands again, and the dress, and her face.

Her flowers.

When she looked to Donnie, he looked as if he couldn't be happier.

“Well that's good, cause they cost me my dignity,” Leo groaned, despite the smirk on his face. “By the way, I call next.”

April patted his shell. “Alright, Leo. We'll make you pretty so you can look good for Usagi.”

“Great, because I- Wait! HEY!”

Vee was laughing loudly now, wiping her tears delicately with a single finger. The argument slowly turned back into background noise, as Leo sat on the stool instead, squabbling far too much for April's liking. Donnie recruited Vee for color picking and inspiration searching.

And so Vee let herself exist there, not worrying about mattering or being wanted. Not worrying about if the one she cared about was hurt or crying. Not longing for another sense to experience the world with. Not questioning if she may be taken away for good. Not asking if she really had a family. Not wondering if she did something wrong, or if she even had the right to call herself alive. Not waiting for someone to talk to her.

She had her flowers, and words could never compare.

○●○●○●○

Finally, she is here. I went a little wild on this. There are just so many parts of Vee's story that I can't wait to see. She's my little brainworm 💖

I'm glad that I can get this out before the @tmntaucompetition ends, especially since EW is in the finale. Go vote for them!!! I love them so dearly :)

I'm going to edit the first chapter of my own iteration, (currently titled Second Shot), and post that soon. I simply must get my boys out into the world, especially after discovering @dluebirb's TMNT AU family reunion. Lord knows they need friends.

GO VOTE IN THE TMNT AU COMP! AAH!

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

#tmnt #tmnt au #rottmnt #tmnt fanfiction #teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #tmnt au propaganda #tmnt separated au #fanfiction #fanfic #twig writes

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thezombieprostitute · 11 months ago

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Just needed to write something. Inspired by @navybrat817's post about being taken away so you don't have to work.

Alpha left unnamed so you can picture your own grumpy/protective man.

This was entirely written on my phone. Apologies for errors.

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You've been having a rough day. Your clothes weren't fitting right, that tag kept itching your neck. Your nerves were on edge. You were certain everyone was noticing all of your flaws. Goodness knows you were pointing all of them out to yourself.

Work is only making things worse. It's turning a lot of your nervous energy into anger and frustration. Heaven forbid your boss check her own notes or your co-workers fix their own mistakes.

Worst of all, you've closed off your bond so you don't bother Alpha with everything. That source of love and support cut off because you can't return his energy today and don't want him worrying about you. You make sure to text him, assuring him it's just a bad day and you'll talk when you're both home.

Then someone steals your lunch and, for the briefest second, you send all your sadness and anger through the bond. You quickly work to get it back under control as you try to not cry on your way to the vending machines.

About 30 minutes later there's a text from Alpha, "I'm downstairs. You're going home with me." You text back that you'll be ok. That you need to finish your work day.

A minute after you send that message you get a call from the front desk. The receptionist is clearly nervous, "there's a very big, very upset Alpha here saying he's here to pick you up for lunch?"

"I can confirm he's my Alpha," you sigh. "But I've already had my lunch. Maybe send him up?" Perhaps of you can get in some physical contact it'll help both you.

The receptionist wasn't wrong, Alpha is looking very upset. And everyone in the office is steering clear. As soon as you're in reach, he's pulling you into his arms, scenting you. You're able to let go of some of the day's stress with his help.

Your boss coughs to get your attention. "Unless there's been a change in your heat/rut cycles, this behavior is not allowed. This is a workplace, not a therapy session."

Alpha stands up to his full height and your boss takes a step back. "I guess that means she'll have to find a better job elsewhere." He grabs your bag and packs the few personal belongings you've got.

"Alpha, you can't do this," you protest weakly.

"My Omega is hurting and this place is just making it worse. So yes, I'm doing this." He grabs your hand and pulls you to the elevator. As much as you want to protest, you just don't have the energy.

And, really, you don't want to stop him. You just want him to get you home so he can take care of you, protect you, and everything else your inner Omega is begging for right now.

You open up the bond again and Alpha looks at you with a smile at your feelings of relief, gratitude and love.

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So who did you picture for your Alpha?

Tagging @alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

#alpha x omega #wish fulfillment #omegaverse #born to write forced to work

173 notes · View notes

cherrreid · 12 days ago

Text

being with you doesn't feel like drowning,

from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . m. townsend !

ᰔ with . . . a f!reader

ᰔ category . . . angst. hurt with comfort. one - shot. requested.

ᰔ in which . . . when you saw michael's injuries, everything falls apart. trust is broken, & the connection you two had is tested. michael attempts to keep the truth from you, but it's too late▰the damage is done. now, both of you have to deal with the repercussions of your actions.

ᰔ tags . . . 5.4k. major spoilers. reader is not a natural but not invisible. raised in the house, still feels like a guest. trust issues ft. too many secrets. blue-purple bruises. “i never asked you to love me” <— okay jane austen boy, ouch. the slow burn of breaking down walls. everyone knows but no one says it. fbi = feelings buried indefinitely. friends who read you like crime scenes. windowsill confessions. love, interrupted. trust issues but make it cozy. held together by forehead kisses. he reads you better than his files. love in lowercase. statistics say he shouldn't love this hard (he does). he’d classify you as essential personnel. ooc. grammatical errors.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list , m. townsend & the naturals m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. AAAAA, nonnie,,, this was supposed to be 7k but it DIDN'T save💔 im sorryyyyy😭😭

002. you sent this around three am ish & i was LOCKED in❕❕

003. idk if i did you justice, nonnie 💔💔

004. horrible writing because i started writing this at,,,, 3 am

005. also... i couldn't keep this spoiler free😭😭 my head was blank because WHAT WOULD THE TOPIC OF THEIR ARGUMENT BE????? so i js... tweaks & tweaks..

006. as i said in note four,, this is badly written so don't expect much 😭 I CAN'T WRITE ANGST

you weren't supposed to be here.

judd had instructed you to remain where you were, michael would return tomorrow.

& sure, perhaps you were snooping, perhaps you shouldn't have gone into his room without knocking, but you were missing him, and the jacket he'd left behind still smelled of him.

besides, you've done the groceries.(that usually takes you all day because the group chat keeps adding more things to the list.)

so you'd gone in.

& hell broke loose.

because the moment you laid eyes on the bruises, the cut on his jaw, the way he winced when he reached too far▰your breath caught in your throat.

you weren't a profiler, hell, you're not even a natural but you weren't stupid either.

you knew what a beating looked like. & michael could lie with a smile, but his body was always honest. especially to you.

he turned just as you walked in.

froze.

like a deer in headlights.

like he hadn't meant for anyone to see him this way.

you didn't speak.

he didn't either.

just stood there, half-shirted, ribs smeared with ugly blue-purple marks.

& god, it was like someone injected ice water into your veins.

because he told you it was a family business.

he told you he was fine.

& you believed him.

"what the hell," you said, hushed. too hushed.

he hauled down the hem of his shirt. "it's nothing."

"don't," you said, & your voice broke in a way you despised.

"don't do that."

he sat on the edge of the bed like this was normal. like you didn't just interrupt something that made your chest too tight to breathe.

"you're back early," he said, staring at the floor.

"& you're bruised," you snapped. "so maybe we both have bad timing."

he sighed. "it's not a big deal."

"not a big deal?" you had said, voice rising before you pushed it back down. "michael, what the hell are you even saying right now?"

he didn't glance your way.

didn't blink.

just kept his eyes fixed on the floor as if he remained silent long enough, all of this would disappear.

"you went back there," you told him. "to your dad."

"i told you i was visiting family."

"you lied."

he glanced up then, and sure, maybe you did wait for that. maybe you needed to see his face.

because he didn't look angry.

he looked exhausted.

so exhausted it curled your stomach.

"what do you want me to say?" he asked.

you blinked. "i want you to say something."

he got up, & you resented how slow & deliberate his movements were.

you resented that he was accustomed to pain like this.

like it was normal.

like it was a habit.

"i'm fine."

"you're not fine."

"this happens," he said. "it's not new."

you stepped forward, fists curled at your sides. "you've been my boyfriend for months. & i never knew."

"because i didn't want you to know."

that line hurt more than it should have.

"why?"

"because it's my problem," he stated, finally, like something in him cracked open.

"it's not yours. it's not anyone's. i've been dealing with this my whole life▰"

"that's the problem," you cut in, voice low. "you deal with it like it's your fault."

he paced slightly, running a hand through his hair. "don't psychoanalyze me."

"i'm not," you said. "i'm begging you to talk to me."

he fell silent again.

& you hated that.

because he was so good at this▰retreating into silence, allowing you to talk until you quit.

but you weren't quitting. not today.

"do you even trust me?" you asked.

his jaw clenched. "don't do that."

"don't do what?" you snapped. "don't ask if my boyfriend▰who's keeping this from me▰trusts me?"

he remained silent.

"you didn't tell me," you breathed. "you didn't tell anyone, but▰"

"lia knows," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

you stiffened.

you glared at him like he slapped you.

"what?"

he gazed away once more. "she figured it out. it's not like i told her."

"but she knew," you replied. "and she didn't say anything."

"that's not her job."

"it's not yours either, apparently," you snarled.

the silence that hung between you afterwards was colder than anything else.

you didn't weep. you wouldn't.

but god, you wished to scream.

"do you have any idea how dumb this makes me feel?" you asked, voice trembling though you resented that it was. "do you have any idea how it feels to be excluded from everything because i'm not one of you?"

his eyes grew cold. "this has nothing to do with you not being a natural."

"doesn't it?" you asked. "because you tell them things. they know things. & i'm just the girl who was raised in the house & still gets treated like a guest."

he opened his mouth. closed it.

& that was the worst part▰he didn't argue.

he didn't fight back.

because maybe he knew you were right.

"i've been here since i was eight," you said. "i grew up with you people. judd raised me. hell, tanner used to read me silly bedtime stories, i cleaned up after sloane when she spilled powdered sugar all over the place, i held lia's hand when she got stitches, i taught dean how to braid hair because his kept falling in his eyes, i let cassie stay in my room because that stupid locke haunts her every time.”

your voice cracked again.

you're no natural, just someone scarlett hawkins took in before she died. & judd didn't send you to an orphanage because he knows that this is what his daughter wants. you don't know what she sees in you, but there was something. you had skills, enough to be qualified in the fbi. if it weren't for your age.

"but i'm not a natural. so i'm not one of you."

michael didn't look at you.

& that only made it worse.

"you were the only one who made me feel like i belonged," you said softly now. "you were the only one who didn't look at me like i was on the outside. so i don't get why you shut me out too."

he finally looked up.

& he looked destroyed. wrecked.

"because it's not about you," he told me, & his voice wasn't angry. just tired. "it's about me. it's about not wanting to see your face change when you look at me. it's about keeping the only good thing in my life safe."

"safe?" you echoed. "from what? the truth?"

"from me."

you looked at him.

& this time, you said nothing.

he exhaled & sat back down, as if standing was now too much work.

"you weren't supposed to see," he said. "i know how to handle it. i've done it before."

"& how's that working out for you?" you asked, frustration boiling. "you keep going back, michael. you keep getting hurt. what, you think that's brave? you think it's strength?"

"i think it's survival," he said harshly.

"then perhaps you should learn a new means of survival."

he didn't say anything.

you took a trembling breath, pacing now, because if you stood still the room felt like it was closing in on you.

"you should've told me," you said. "even if you didn't want to be helped. even if you didn't want me to make it better. i'm not asking to be your savior. i'm just asking to know."

he nodded once, slowly.

but it did not feel like an honest answer.

it felt like he was folding in again on himself.

closing off.

retreating.

"you don't get to make choices about me," you said, coming closer again. "you don't get to choose what i can or cannot handle. if you didn't want me on board, then maybe you should not have gotten me to fall in love with you."

his head jerked up.

you hadn't intended to say it like that.

but it was out now, & you weren't backing down.

"i never asked you to love me," he said, voice low but cutting.

& wow.

that hurt more than it should've.

you blinked. "no. i guess you didn't."

he shut his eyes. ran his hands through his hair once more. "that's not what i meant."

"but it's what you said."

he glared up at you again. "i didn't mean it like that. i just▰this▰"

he pointed vaguely at his ribs.

"this is ugly. & i didn't want you to see it."

"well, i did," you said. "so now what?"

he didn't speak.

you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity.

neither of you saying a word.

& perhaps that was worse than the words.

because it meant you were both suspended in the in-between.

not broken up.

not fine.

just there.

distant, angry, & unsure what was next.

the ssilence between you & michael was heavy for days.

it wasn't just the fight anymore▰it was the way it landed in the space between you.

you weren't broken up, but the air was thick with things unspoken, with questions still hanging, unasked.

you tried to concentrate on the work.

attempted to bury yourself in homework, in assisting the team, despite your heart feeling as if it were walking around with a pain you could not rid yourself of.

didn't help that everyone else seemed to be able to tell something was wrong.

lia saw someone was off first, naturally.

she always did. she knows you. & that isn't because she's a lie detector or anything of the sort.

she was a lie detector, & even when you tried to smile, she was aware.

the way your shoulders stiffened every time michael entered the room. the manner in which you always averted your gaze before anyone had time to ask. you could sense her gaze upon you, could sense her attempting to read you & send shivers down your spine.

but you never allowed her to ask.

you couldn't.

not yet.

cassie. oh, cassie. she noticed. when she came to your room that night, asking for comfort, your eyes looked puffy. red.

you looked like you didn't want to talk about it. so she didn't. only hoping her embrace will at least make you feel better. hoping that the next time she enters your room, your eyes won't look tired or puffy or red or sad.

& then there was dean.

dean. someone who knew you since you were twelve.

dean. someone whom you thought of as a brother in every sense that counted.

dean, who observed you going in & out of the safe house with michael, who guarded you with a look that made his eyes keen & his fists even keener.

you noticed it in the way he looked at you now.

the way he questioned you with his eyes, with the way he stayed too long when you entered the kitchen for breakfast.

you detested that look.

you hated that he could see through the cracks, but you didn't want to speak up.

so you didn't.

instead, you concentrated on the people who didn't ask the questions▰like sloane.

sloane, who always had a way of seeing things without mentioning them.

she was quiet in her noticing.

but she could sense the tension, & she was there when you needed her most.

you were sitting at the kitchen counter, doing your best to ignore the glaring emptiness in your chest, when sloane came over, sitting beside you, her hand casually brushing yours.

you didn’t flinch.

you didn’t pull away.

but it was comforting.

it was sloane.

“you okay?” she asked quietly.

you swallowed.

“yeah. i’m fine.”

sloane didn’t buy it.

& she didn’t press either.

she simply left her hand hovering close to yours, a gentle pull, a comfort that didn't demand anything back.

it was in these small moments that you felt the cracks in your heart start to mend▰slowly, agonizingly, but they mended.

but even the tiniest crack won't go undetected.

not when lia's around.

the instant you walked into the room, lia raised an eyebrow.

you attempted to escape her stare, but she saw you anyway.

she rose to her feet, approaching you, her expression impossible to read.

"tell me," she told you, voice soft but slicing all at the same time. "what happened?"

you stalled.

you knew she knew.

you just didn't know what to say.

"nothing's wrong," you grumbled, attempting to brush it off, but lia was not accepting anything.

"nothing?" she repeated, folding her arms. "then why do you look like someone stole your soul?"

you bit your lip.

you couldn't lie to her, not like this. "we fought," you said, voice strained. "that's all."

lia's expression softened, but her frown grew deeper.

"about what?" she asked. you shook your head, already knowing what would happen if you told her.

she knows. you were upset at first. but you knew it's not her fault for knowing.

she didn't need to know everything. "it's just. it's complicated." lia looked at you for a long time.

& for a moment, you'd hoped maybe she'd let it drop.

but no.

lia wasn't the kind of girl to let something go.

particularly when it involved you.

"so. he hurt you," she stated, not a question, but fact.

you bristled, heart skipping a beat in your chest.

you couldn't meet her gaze. because pergaps she wasn't wrong.

"no," you asserted hastily, shaking your head. "not like that."

but lia could see right through you.

she always had. she moved a little closer, voice low & guarded.

"i won't help you unless you tell me."

you groaned.

"i'm not hiding anything. i just. i don't know how to put this into words. i just need space."

lia gazed at you for a moment, & you could see her considering her words.

then she just said, "just don't push him away. whatever it is, it's not worth losing him over." you nodded, feeling the heaviness of her words hit you.

you didn't want to lose him. but you didn't want to hurt him either.

you and michael were moving around like strangers.beyes not meeting. words few and far between. but it wasn't easy to forget. not when you shared a house full of people who noticed everything.

at dinner one evening, judd sat beside you, observing you with his characteristic silent watchfulness.

you were fiddling with your food, shoving it round your plate, hardly eating it. he didn't tell you what was the matter, but you could sense him looking at you▰like he was waiting for you to talk. & at last he spoke.

"you have to talk to him," judd said, his tone as quiet as ever. he doesn't know what happened. & he won't ask.

you shook your head hastily.

you're not even surprised that he knows.

"i can't."

"why?" he asked.

you bit your lip, not meeting his eyes.

"because i don't know how. because everything's all screwed up, and i'm. i'm afraid. i'm afraid that whatever this is, it's gonna ruin everything we have." judd sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

"you've been through worse, kid. you know that, right?" you glanced at him.

which is correct. you not being a natural doesn't excuse what you've been through. scarlett hawkins. lacey locke. your past.

when scarlett died, judd knew he wasn't the only one struggling.

yes, he had lost a daughter, & you have lost a sister. not by blood. & blood wasn't a necessity for scarlett when it came to you.

briggs making the program was what saved the both of you. dean saved the both of you. not just dean. he saved veronica sterling.

"yeah, but. this feels different."

"of course it does," he whispered. "but you can't keep running from him. you have to figure this out."

you were quiet for a long time, taking in his words.

he was right.

you couldn't just hide from him forever.

you had to confront him. just… when?

it was late when michael appeared in your room that night.

the door creaked quietly as he pushed it open, & you looked up from where you sat at the window. you didn't say anything at first. didn't know what to say. he didn't wait for an invitation.

just walked in and shut the door behind him, standing beside it for a moment. "can we talk?" he asked, voice low.

you nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

michael leaned against the edge of your bed, a couple of feet from you.

you remained by the window, uncertain if you should approach.

the tension between you was thick once more.

both of you being so cautious, as if anything wrong would break it all. "i'm sorry," he broke the silence.

his voice low, too quiet. "i know i messed up. i didn't mean to hurt you. i just. i didn't want you to know. i didn't want you to see me like that." you at last turned to look at him.

"but you lied. you kept things from me, michael." he nodded, downcast eyes.

"i know. & i'm sorry. i just. i didn't think you could handle it."

"you don't get to decide that," you breathed, moving in close to him.

"you can't shut me out like that."

he stared up at you, his face filled with regret.

"i know. i messed up." you sat beside him, the gap between you still too great.

but you couldn't help it. you were afraid.

"i'm just angry," you confessed quietly. "i'm angry that you didn't trust me enough to share. i'm angry that you think i can't handle it. but i don't despise you, michael. i could never despise you."

his hand crawled out, touching your fingers softly.

you did not jerk away. you let him.

"i know i've been stupid," he declared. "but i never had any intention to hurt you. i just. i'm just so used to facing it all alone. i don't even know how to ask for things to be easier."

you took a jerky breath, eyes dropping from yours to fall upon your other hand, still clenching his.

"i'm sorry," you explained, voice shaky.

"i'm probably being selfish. i just. i just need to know you're okay. i don't want to keep pretending like everything's fine when you're falling apart." he shook his head softly.

"you're not being selfish. i'm just stupid for not seeing how much you care." you paused for a moment, gazing at him.

"are you okay?" he closed his eyes, tightening his grip on your hand.

"yeah. i'm getting there."

"it's okay," you whispered softly, reaching up to brush his cheek.

"it's okay to not be okay."byou overanalyzed every little touch, making sure not to hurt him.

but michael drew you in, holding you tight, his head against yours. "stop overthinking it," he whispered. "you're not hurting me. you never will."

& for the first time in days, you felt the tension finally release.the evening following your conversation with michael, things were quieter, more gentle. the air between you two wasn't as stifling, but it wasn't completely healed either. nonetheless, there was a shift.

the house was quiet that evening. everyone was in bed or otherwise occupied, leaving you & michael alone in the living room. the gentle hum of the fridge & the muffled sounds of traffic somewhere outside were the only things disrupting the silence.

michael sat on the couch, the same spot where you’d spent so many nights together. this time, though, it was different. there was no tension, no walls between you. just a quiet, comfortable silence.

you sat at the edge of the couch, uncertain at first, not wanting to know what to do after all that happened. you did not want to intrude upon him, did not want to make matters worse by pushing his limits.

but michael, as ever, appeared to be reading you like an open book. without uttering a word, he eased slightly to the side, opening up space for you to sit beside him. his eyes were warm, the slightest suggestion of a smile pulling at his mouth, as if he was promising you something.

"come here," he breathed softly, his voice gruff but gentle.

you bit your lip, nervousness rising up in your chest. "are you sure?" you asked softly, still not knowing if your touch would hurt him.

he smiled at you, the kind of smile that was only for you, & nodded. "yeah, i'm sure. you're not gonna hurt me, y'know."

you paused for another second, then slowly walked towards him. as you sat beside him, his arm fell naturally across your shoulders, drawing you closer.

but you tensed slightly, still overthinking every little thing, every small touch. you weren't accustomed to feeling so guarded, so attuned to everything.

"i don't want to hurt you," you breathed, voice so soft it was barely audible. "i'm just. i don't know how to do this without hurting you more."

michael smiled gently, the warmth of the sound enveloping you like a blanket. "you're not going to hurt me, angel. you're not.”

he tugged you a little nearer, & this time you let yourself slip into his side. being close to him felt so normal, so comfortable, that you couldn't help relaxing slightly, allowing your head to lean on his shoulder.

"i just▰" you'd begun, but michael interrupted, raising his hand to tilt your chin up carefully so that you were facing him. his eyes were so soft, so knowing. as though he could penetrate right through your fears.

"it's all right," he whispered. "i know that you're being careful. but you're not going to break me, you know that?"

you nodded, but the knot in your chest did not completely dissipate. you still wished to ensure that you were not doing anything wrong, even in a momeent such as this, when all you wished for was to feel close to him.

michael appeared to sense the restlessness still present within you, & his hand softly cupped your cheek. "hey," he whispered, "if you're not comfortable with anything, you can let me know, okay?"

you smiled softly, grateful for his patience. “i’m okay now. just. just scared of hurting you.”

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re not going to. just trust me.”

you blinked your eyes shut for a second, allowing the heat of his hand seep into your skin, & gradually, all your tension dissolved. you felt the calm rhythm of his breathing, the way his pulse beat in sync with yours in perfect harmony.

"i'm sorry i was acting weird earlier," you mumbled, voice hardly above a whisper.

"don't apologize," he told you, his thumb making little circles on the back of your hand. "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

he was right, but the guilt still hung in your chest. you couldn't help it. you cared too much. you just wanted to protect him, even when he wasn't asking for it.

you moved closer, not bothering to be cautious anymore. the way his arms were wrapped around you was stabilizing, like

"thank you for not giving up on me," you whispered, your fingers tracing across his arm. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

michael pulled you nearer, his arms tightening around you in a warm grasp. "don't worry about that. i'm never leaving, angel. you're stuck with me." he doesn't know what he'd do without you either.

you smiled quietly, running your fingers over & over his chest in gentle, soothing patterns. "good," you breathed. "i think i prefer to be stuck with you."

he leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he sighed contentedly. “same here.”

you stayed like that for a while, just existing in the quiet, the soft rhythm of each other’s breathing the only sound that mattered. there was no rush. no pressure. just the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence.

soon, michael moved a little, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch & draping it over both of you. his hand migrated to your waist, & he pulled you in closer, as if too close did not exist when it came to the two of you.

"you know," he mused softly, now teasing, "you're the cuddling champ."

you smiled softly, rolling your eyes. "oh, really? is that so?"

"yeah," he said, his fingers running along your side in that special way that always made you shiver. "if i had a dollar for every time i thought about how perfect it feels when you're in my arms, i'd be rich." well, he already is. but you know what he means.

you smiled, your heart filling with love. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"perhaps," he grinned, "but you adore it."

"perhaps i do," you confessed, the tension in your chest melting away now entirely. "just a little."

he leaned against you, the sly grin on his face as his lips whispered against yours in a soft kiss. "just a little?"

you smiled against his lips, the sense of his warmth spreading through you like the gentlest kind of comfort. "okay, perhaps a great deal."

"that's what i thought," he whispered, kissing you again, this time deeper, slower. like he was tasting the moment, like he was ensuring you both knew this was real, this was something you were going to cling to.

you smiled & leaned back a little, your forehead against his. "you know," you whispered, barely above a sound, "if i could spend every night like this, i'd be happy."

"me too," he said, his fingers running through your hair, drawing you back into his arms. "me too."

the gentle glow of the tv danced around the room, illuminating soft shadows on the couch where you & michael were snuggled together. all was calm, so calm that you nearly forgot the world existed outside of this moment. the soothing sound of his breathing & the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat against your ear made everything seem right.

until, of course, you heard the distant sound of footsteps from the hallway.

you blinked, the serene moment interrupted. michael must've heard it too because his body stiffened slightly, his hand reaching out to lightly rest on your back as he turned his head towards the door.

there was a gentle tap before the door groaned open, & there, in the doorway, was sloane. her dark eyes were opened wide in a mixture of sleep & curiosity, & she rubbed her eyes as if by accident.

you blinked in shock, but a gentle smile curled your mouth. "hey, sloane," you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment. "what's going on? why are you up so late?"

sloane shifted her weight, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "i. um. i couldn't sleep. i was just. thinking about things," she stammered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

you raised an eyebrow, worry flashing in your chest. sloane wasn't typically one to struggle to sleep, & when she did, it was typically because something was wrong. you could tell she was holding something back, not wanting to confess why she was actually awake.

"sloane," you said quietly, your tone full of love, "you know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

she paused for a moment, but then nodded slowly, although she still did not look entirely at ease. "yeah. i just. i don't know. sometimes it's just hard to sleep."

you knew there was something more to it, but you didn't push her. instead, you shifted slightly on the couch & gestured to the space beside you. "come here, lovely. let's talk."

sloane didn't budge immediately, but after a moment, she crept over, crawling onto the couch next to you. you put an arm around her, drawing her into a hug. the hug was nearly motherly, & it came so instinctively to you that it was like second nature.

michael moved a bit, but he didn't look uncomfortable. he knew the relationship you had with sloane, just like he knew the relationship you shared with everyone at the house. you weren't just a friend to them▰you were like their secret garden, the one they could rely on.

"hey," you murmured softly to sloane, "you know you're not pestering me, right? if something's troubling you, tell me. we'll sort this out."

sloane let out a deep sigh & leaned against your shoulder, wrapped in your embrace. "i know. i just. i don't want to intrude on you & michael. you two look like you're snug as a pair of bugs.

you chuckled, gently stroking her hair. “don’t worry about us. you’re never a bother. but you should probably head back to your room, huh?”

sloane looked up at you with a small frown. “i don’t want to sleep alone.”

you smiled softly at that, the protective instinct inside of you flaring. “you’re not alone, sloane. you’ve got cassie, remember? she’s in the room with you.”

“yeah,” sloane muttered, “but she’s already asleep.”

you smiled softly & glanced at michael. he nodded slightly, understandingly, his hand on your back as if he were giving his silent approval to the moment. "how about this," you told sloane, "you go to your room, & i'll escort you there. if you're still upset, we can discuss it tomorrow, okay?"

sloane paused, but then nodded. "okay." she murmured.

you got up, still holding sloane gently by the shoulders, & began to lead her towards the door. when you reached it, you turned back to her. "sloane, it's all right to be vulnerable sometimes. you don't have to keep that from me. okay?"

sloane's face relaxed, & she smiled at you weakly. "yeah. i guess so."

you smiled back, hugging her quickly before she turned to go towards her room. "get some sleep, s," you whispered. "i'll check on you in a bit."

she nodded, a bit more at ease now as she headed toward her room. "goodnight, you two," she said softly, just before heading down the hall.

you faced back toward the couch, your heart feeling a bit lighter now that sloane was at least going back to her room. you headed back to michael, who had waited patiently for you to finish soothing her.

he looked at you as you came back to sit at his side, a warm smile on his face. "everything alright with her?”

"yeah, just. a bit disturbed," you told him, getting back into your seat beside him. "but she's going back to her room now."

michael nodded, his arm instinctively coming around you as you leaned back against him. the heat between the two of you still lingered, constant &,,, unchanging even after all that had occurred.

"you're good at this," he murmured, his lips feathering across the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. "good at taking care of everyone."

you smiled up at him, your heart filling with his words. "well, i am their emergency contact, so,, it's easy." you whispered. "but. it's not always easy, is it?"

he sighed, wrapping you closer so that you were snuggled under his arm. "no. it's not. but i'm glad you're here with me."

you curled into his chest, the beat of his heart calm you like a lullaby. "me too. i don't think i could do it without you."

there was silence for a moment, and then michael kissed your forehead, the touch so soft that you hardly felt it. but you did, and you dissolved into it, sensing the gentleness in the way he wrapped his arms around you.

"you're not doing it for them, though," he whispered, his voice low & seductive. "you're doing it for yourself too. & that's what makes you unique."

you gazed up at him, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"you adore it," he smiled, his fingers stroking along your jawline.

you smiled & drew him into a kiss, slow & deep. michael kissed you right back, his lips against yours like he couldn't get enough of you. the kiss was sweet at first, but then it deepened, becoming more desperate, more urgent. your hands wandered to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you drew him in closer, desperate to feel the connection between you two, to drown out everything else in the world.

when you finally broke away, gasping, you gazed up at him, your vision misty with love.

"more?" he whispered, his voice a little hoarse.

you nodded, your forehead pressed against his. "always.

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wings-of-ink · 4 months ago

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Hello, my friends!

Just wanted to pop in with some info and updates.

*The "Cursed Birthday" won the 2k follower celebration poll. Sorry dads! I don't have an ETA for that just yet. I may write it here and there until the end of the year as the motivation strikes. I think the easiest way to tell the tale would be from Oswin's POV or even a shifting POV between him and Da (Kip). I'll decide for sure once I begin to write it. Also playing with the idea of doing this in Twine to make it playable. That way you could put your MC's specifics in for maximum emotional damage.

*I will still write things about the dads though, so all my Papa and Da fans out there won't be left in the dark forever.

*I will be "patching" Chapter 5 in the near future. I redid Zahn's scene (again) which gave me such a headache on release day. I formatted the beginnings in a much more streamlined way and fixed some bugs. When I have more time to sit and go through error reports, and make more corrections to typos, grammar, and code - then I will put the patch through.

*All chapters will be getting a scrub for issues in the text in the coming months. I will do my best to find them, but self-editing is very difficult (there's good reason that professional editors exist). In the future, I may need to ask for testers/editors.

*ASKS will be changing a bit. I do not know the full extent of how because it's a trial by fire. The rules will be updated as I come across things. But, here's why:

Spoiler prevention - as much as it is possible, I want to limit spoiling content for both new and existing readers. Not just for the plot points that are developing, but also for our mystery suitor who will have a lot of unraveling in the coming chapters. I will probably make a specific tag for answers that may contain spoilers, but some of the issue is the information in the Ask itself, which I can't hide. I may opt to compile these in a big post like once a month or so. This way, if anyone does not want to see anything spoilery, it's easier to avoid.

Time management - reaction asks specifically will remain limited and they will honestly have to be a lower priority depending on the condition of my inbox. I am very sorry for this, but these can take an inordinate amount of time. I write this IF in my downtime from work and personal life, and I also use those moments to manage Tumblr. I need to balance those so I can work toward releasing more of the IF.

Patreon - I still plan to give Patreon a go probably starting January. This will help me fund things for the game, such as art, and help me justify spending even more of my time writing chapters and extras. But like everything else, I will need to allot time to work on these things.

Personal Development - I'm taking a coding class! I can work on it at my leisure and it won't take a ton of time during the week, but it will take me out of my Tumblr time a little bit I think. Fingies crossed, I will learn a lot that will help me code a better game for you!

*Inbox - I have several Asks awaiting responses about chapter 5. As noted above, I am holding these due to spoilers to give readers a chance to catch up. (I may opt to compile these in one large post.)

Anyway, that's all for now (it's at least all I currently remember, lol).

Take care, all!

~Lunan ^_^

#god cursed if #asks #twine if #if wip #twine wip #gc ro reactions #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #probably need to sort out my tags too..

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fuck-customers · 1 month ago

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🌱

Had the worse work day at this job. I couldn't even force myself to stay the last half an hour before close because I had been forcing myself to stay on the up and up since before lunch (12pm for me). I even took breaks away from the commotion to try to calm myself down but that only helped for a few minutes before somethin else happened that brought me right back to the 'I'm literally so close to loosing my shit on the next person who mildly annoys me that my stomach hurts'.

It's been a months long dog pile but Friday and Saturday really just lit the metaphorical shit on fire with gas. I feel like I've been gettin the shit end of the stick for months now, prob since before November-any problem or error comes back to me either to fix it or it's somehow 'my fault' in the first place. Friday was the whole label debacle, my money manger told my other 2 coworkers who completely failed to tell me that info, which the lady making the labels gets miffed with me but I atleast knew that wasn't aimed *at* me cause we were both really frustrated with the label thing. But then MM calls the shop cell (we don't have walkie talkies), I answer it cause I'm usually at the register and she tells me that she told my other 2 coworkers who were supposed to tell me the info, so now she's frustrated, I'm mad, the lady labels is miffed, no one's happy, my other 2 coworkers are ignorant. When MM was talking to me it sounded like she was chewing me out, which I didn't take well cause it wasn't my fault that NEITHER FUCKIN COWORKER told me the info, so now I'm mad at my coworkers for not telling me, which in turn makes the label lady miffed, ect...

Later I told the LL that MM chewed me out for my coworkers not telling me I had to send her, LL, a list of names and quantity, not just a set number of generic lables to print which what I was originally told. Which I guess LL told MM, cause later MM texts me that she wasn't trying to be mean to me and that she didn't want me to think she was coming down on me. Even thou it really felt like that in the moment.

Then today, Saturday, a guy asks for help for trees and shrubs and stuff. I don't know the details about that kinda stuff, like quantity, care, what we carry esp for trees, so I try to call 2 guys in the garden to come up and help him out. Which my other manager, my supervisor, has said to do, call one of the guys up to the front to help a customer. Neither answer their phone, so I tell him no one's answering so your best bet is to find a guy already out there. Apparently that wasn't the right thing to do. He does go back there thou, maybe like 10mins later he briskly walks back leaving, we ask if he found anyone, he says somethin like 'no one who was interested to help', and he's already gone, nothing I could do to make him turn back. I ask the owner to tell the one guy who didn't answer to get his phone cause he has a history of not gettin his phone and letting it die. I also tell her about the guy who left, to which she says 'why didn't I walk him back there to find someone'. Like. I'm not a sales associate. Why should I have to walk 5 acres of land to find 1 out of 2 guys to do their damn job. And if I don't find one then what? I can only bs my way for so long. No I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to plants but idk what trees we have and I can't drive him next door on the golf cart to show him either. Besides the gact that I probably dont have permission to do that, idk how to drive a golf cart. From then on out it's like anythin that can go wrong with somethin or just somethin annoying did go wrong. Customers complaining, managers complaining, coworkers avoiding doing work. The thing that finally broke me was when the LL called and said that the same guy who's phone is always conveniently dead (my words not hers) had tagged off her plants for her client and he just tagged them off for my client. Her client hadn't payed for them yet thou and she said he can explain to him that he waited too long and lost the sale, but like, it still fucked me over. I told the phone dead guy who immediately gets mad at me saying why I told her. I didn't tell her shit! I told her 160 tibuchina were tagged off for an install, which is standard protocal to text in the delivery group chat of what is going to be delivered+installed. He says he saw the tag and tagged his, not hers, but he continues to go on and on and at one point goes 'do you think I'm blind?' I KNOW YOU ARE. He is literally colour blind!! For all I know he could have easily missed the green+blue striped tag in the leaves! I didn't snap at him thou and had to walk away, but I still couldn't calm down which led to the whole crying sobbing and leaving early.

I talked to the owner a bit before leaving cause I texted her I was leaving, which I maybe shouldn't have done, I should have just not told anyone and they can figure it out when they see me punched out early and not being around the last half an hour to close, but I figured I would be courteous and give her a heads up if no one else. I didn't bother letting my coworkers know that I was leaving. Fuck them. She ended up seeing me as I was walking to the front end to get my work bag from the register area, we talked a bit but it doesn't feel like anythin really came from it. She said she would talk to the other girls too but my supervisor has had TWO meetings about the same shit, and they clearly don't care. They're gonna do whatever they want cause I'm the one who carries the front end while they go off in lala land not having to do the little they do up front.

I don't even want to go into work tomorrow even thou I said I would. I'm not looking forward to it. I'm not looking forward to interacting with my coworkers who can't help, avoid doing work and can't tell me shit, or the MM who I'm sure the supervisor has told that I was crying in her office, or the phone dead guy who kept getting mad at me all Saturday cause I threw him under the bus finally about not having his damn phone charged for work even thou it's been a months long problem with him. Thou he won't be at work Sunday so atleast there's that. I still have to make sure he didn't tag LL plants thou.

TL;DR Worse work day of this job ever, I feel like shit, I cried alot, I get in trouble for shit that isn't my fault and the straw finally broke the camels back Saturday. I don't want to go into work Sunday and if I didn't have bills I wouldn't. Wish me luck I guess.

Posted by admin Rodney

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beerok23 · 5 months ago

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2024 FIC Roundup

In response to those of you who tagged me (@pookasluagh @captainblou and @missunderstoodlyrics) here is my AO3 author interview.

What fandoms do you write in? At the moment, only for Good Omens! But in the past I've written for Friends, The Pretender and Alias.

How many words have you published in 2024? So far, 186,754 words. I'll soon have a new Christmas fic to post that will definitely increase the count to more than 200k.

What is your greatest achievement this year? Starting to write for this fandom. When I started reading canon post S2 fix-it fics at the end of 2023 I didn't know that I would fall in love with AUs. Today I'm sure that this is a fandom that can express the best AU - if only for the fact that canon is 'fantasy' and AU are 'realistic'. I've changed my style from AE to BE and I'm trying to strengthen my writing. It's not always easy, but I've found beta readers who are so helpful in the process. I can't thank them enough.

What are your favorite top three fics you wrote this year? I've only posted two long fics, which are obviously the favorite I wrote: The Tadfield Holiday (A human ‘The Holiday’ AU) Runaway Groom (A human ‘Runaway Bride’ AU)

But as I mentioned, I'll soon post my Xmas fic 🎄🎁

What was your biggest pit of despair moment? I don't think I ever got desperate, but sometimes it's not easy being a non-native speaker. And the thing I've struggled with the most? Smut scenes 😁 What have you learned? Go with the flow. When the flow hits, just go with it. I'm saying this after writing almost 40k words in less than three weeks.

Did you beta any fics? Actually, I am! I'm not a useful beta when it comes to language, but I'm the best cheeleader 😁😁😁

What three fics have you read this year that you love? Only three? Impossible. I've read hundreds of them. I always read fics and most of all I re-read my faves. So here's a few.

and salt the Earth behind you by @sunrisesinthesuburbs The love and respect I have for this author is immeasurable. Just RUN read EVERYTHING she writes. Of course her Borrowed Words is a masterpiece, but I have a special place in my heart for Profiler Aziraphale and CI Crowley.

Overboard by @joanofart5 I write film-inspired AUs, and Joan did the same with this little gem. It's based on the 1980's romcom 'Overboard' and it's funny, and lovely and makes you FEEL all the right feelings.

Find the Light by @klikandtuna Oh, what an extremely talented author 💛 You've got Headmaster!Aziraphale and Rockstar!Crowley all cuddled up in an awesomely fluff story. Wonderful ❤

The New Road (is an old friend) by @missunderstoodlyrics Pastor!Aziraphale meets SingleDad!Crowley and his daughter Mira. Pining ensured and angst that made me die a little (a sweet death, mind you). Still one of my personal faves by this incredibly talented author.

I'll tell you who's in charge by @captainblou is still my fave of them. But even in other fics, Blou has this wonderful way with words and smut scenes and writing badass Crowley who's actually the sweetest creature. And the way they write about trans characters is the best in the fandom.

When Hell Freezes Over by @hermiola She has a WIP (subscribe, it's hilarious) and she's recently finished her Pretty Woman AU "Take a Little Love From Me", but I discovered her with this two-chapters one shot featuring a charming Peter-Vincent-inspired!Crowley and journalist!Aziraphale. I'm so glad we are collaborating, because your writing truly inspires me 💙💙💙

But oh there are so many others fellow authors: @bellisima-writes ("The Last Angel" is one of the more complex well-thought plots I've ever read), @feraltuxedo (If "All lines are open" was a book, I would have consummated its pages by now), @fellshish (My gosh, how many times I've read "Trial & error"?), @lyricalkris ("The Devil Built a Chapel" killed me 💚💛).

What ideas are percolating for next year? One too many. That's why I'll probably stop writing for a bit. I mean, there might be another movie-inspired AU project in the work, but...We'll see 💜

Who do you want to thank? My three besties, @pookasluagh, @somewhere-in-wales and @ineffablerainstorm. You know everything already 💚💛❤💜🧡🤍 And also, all the writers who make this fandom the precious, peaceful place it is. We've been through a lot this year. But we get them back together in less than a month.

And I can't wait.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #ineffable idiots #david tennant #michael sheen #ao3 #writing #tag game #fan fic #fan fic writing #fan fic author #fic writer #2024 fic roundup

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oddballwriter · 1 year ago

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The Second

Summary: After going on an unplanned adventure with your best friend and crush, his host, and his host's wife to stop the end of the world, and ending up in an accidental love triangle... square...whatever shape it is, you go back to your hometown to clear your mind. It's a great success for you, helping you reconnect with your childhood friend and even bring him back to continue the fun and show him your life in London. But unbeknownst to you, it seems like it might just cause a rift that is born on one side of the triangle.

Warnings: Love triangle and unrequited feelings. The reader is referred to using she/her. Angst, it's soft but it's there. Third-wheeling. I can't think of anything else but I feel like there's more, if there is just tell me.

Author’s Snip: This is sort of a pilot for a series idea that I have that involves all kinds of love shape situations, rivalry, and dragging friends into all kinds of avatar shenanigans on accident. So if you guys like this, let me know so that I can prep and have it ready for writing and planning.

Notes: This is not proofread before posting, if there are errors blame Grammarly for not catching it. I might fix them later.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2,892

Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

What an adventure you just went on. It all feels so unreal when you even try and think about it. Even as you stare up at the ceiling above your bed you find it hard to really digest fully.

Your good friend Steven turned out to be an alter for a person with DID who's named Marc Spector, whom you had not met, ever, throughout you and Steven's close friendship. In which Marc is the avatar and fist of justice for the Egyptian god Khonshu and was living his life while Steven was not fronting, unbeknownst to Steven, and has been playing a game of keep-away with a cult and their leader for a scarab. And you ended up finding all that out when some members of the cult kidnapped you to intimidate Steven and Marc. By the way, Marc is married and has been married, to a woman named Layla. And so you had to go on this whole adventure with all three of them to stop the end of the world, or something, nearly dying on several occasions, and now it's done apparently. Crisis averted. Also, there is a fucking third one.

You're sure that if you told someone outside of your journal and your new group of friends about this, then you would be thrown into a psychiatric hospital in record time.

And that isn't even mentioning all the complicated feelings you're having right now about the love triangle, that only you are aware of. Because of course, you're in a love triangle that the two other people have no idea exists. It's complicated. It was a little complicated at the start, and now it's so much more complicated because now there's another person involved.

Scratch that, four people involved. This is a love square.

Fuck it, now that Jake's here it might actually be a love pentagon now!

Either way, it all has to do with your feelings towards Steven. You had developed them pretty early on in your friendship with Steven because you just so happened to fall into your type. Dork, sweet, funny, and polite guys were your weakness. You tried to fight them off, not wanting to ruin the friendship that you honestly valued with Steven. But he just had this aura and energy that had your heart like a moth to a flame. Some might call it a slow burn. You'd say that it all was fast. But the warmth went to heat that got painful when you found out about Marc and Layla, and thus Steven and Layla.

You're not mad at Layla. Of course not! Why would you? She was there first, technically. It feels bad to say that. Both because you'd have to try and snuff out the feelings that you have, but also because it sounds wrong. It sounds like Steven's an object to be won instead of a person with his own thoughts and feelings. And you never once saw him like that. He was Steven. Nice, sweet, funny Steven.

You knew you needed to move on, even if it hurt. You know you don't have the guts and nerve to be 'the other person' even if you got the chance to be. It would be disrespectful to Layla, and Layla's a great woman. You settle on going back home, to your hometown, to see family and friends in hopes that it'll distract you, maybe even help you get over it if you're lucky. You call up your family who gladly accept the idea and will set up the room that you'll stay in by the time you get there. With that, you pack your bags, get ready for the trip, and head off.

You don't tell Steven that you're leaving to anywhere at first until you're just about to leave, figuring that if he tries to visit you and you're not there he'll assume someone else has kidnapped you and panic. You just send him a simple "As a heads up I'll be out of town for a while. I need a break.", at some point in your trip heading towards your hometown he texts you back with a single "Okay. Sounds nice.".

As it turns out, going around old loved ones really does help your blues. Matter of fact it seems like everyone from your life here heard the news that you'd be spending a few weeks in town and all got together to see you. Your uncle and dad actually threw a little family cookout so that everyone can come say hi to you.

Everyone had questions for you. What's London like? What have you been doing? How's life going over there?

Of course, you can't tell them about all the recent events and you also don't want to ruin your good mood by talking about Steven like you probably would have if this were a trip not spawned from him, in a sense. Overall, everyone's just happy you're back regardless.

You meet a really old face amidst the crowd of family and friends who've assembled. Samson. Sammy. God, you'd know his face anywhere and you know he'd know yours too. You and Sammy have been best friends since diapers. Your moms were friends. Apparently, the story goes that your mom and dad were at the courthouse waiting in line to sign the marriage papers and so were Sammy's mom and dad. Your mothers started talking and it turns out they have a lot in common. By the time both parties left the courthouse, they were in each other's weddings, to which they then found out that they both would be moving into the same area to settle down. Your moms swear that you and Sammy being close in age was just a coincidence but you always joked that it wasn't.

Sammy is hard to put into words. How do you describe the person who's been your best friend since both of you were coloring with crayons and all the way to high school graduations and beyond? The number one person you would talk to about things outside of your parents and through all of the other friends you've both had throughout your lives, the one that has always been the same. Sammy is just Sammy to you, in the most sincere way possible.

After seeing each other at the cookout you catch up on just about everything. What you've been up to, any life milestones you've gotten to while apart. You tell him about London and he tells you about his life here in town. Sammy's gotten up to a few things, had a few girlfriends, and apparently, he's developed his own business. Turns out he's a handyman and locksmith now and makes great money. Gets to make his own hours, so he says. Sammy teases you a bit and asks if you've been collecting British boyfriends. You know it's just a tease but it plucks at the still tender parts of your heart a little. You brush it off and say no.

"No?" Sammy questions, "Come on. Someone like you over there? You're kidding me. You've got to have some guys waiting like a dog for you to come back." he says. You decide to play along in the banter.

"Maybe I do. What of it, Sam-I-Am." you shrug, pretending like he's trying to compete and also pulling out old childhood nicknames. Sammy cringes and the nickname, "Oof, not the Sam-I-Am from kindergarten. You know only my dad called me that until you said it in class. Then everyone started calling me that till fifth grade." Sammy laughs. "Not you doing your shitty British accents when I said I had a thing for British boys back in seventh grade." you reference and make a call back of your own. "It made you laugh and that was my goal." Sammy playfully defended.

For a good half of your stay, Sammy was there, like always, and you would be talking about the old days. Referencing various moments and laughing or cringing together. It felt so nostalgic and good to just feel that bond again, have someone who knows all your little inside jokes and references because they were there when it was formed, and you both didn't want it to stop.

So when the day that you were to go back to London you threw out the idea that Sammy come back with you and continue the fun there. Show him what you've been doing and show him the little life you've created there.

Even though you live in a one-bedroom apartment you managed to accommodate your guest pretty well. You always knew that the pull-out bed extension of your couch that you bought second-hand would have a use someday. You two settled on rules and bases, along with where various things are in case they're needed.

After that, it was just more talking that made the time go by so fast and other things seem so minuscule. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact that you had a brief text conversation with Steven when you got back basically just telling him that you were back and what you're up to right now. It wasn't until he texted you something that sort of snapped you out of it.

You: I'm not really doing anything but my friend came back with me and will be here for a bit.

Steven: Oh that's nice

Steven: Can I meet them maybe?

You weren't sure how long you spent looking at that message, but it was long enough that Sammy noticed. "Something wrong?" he asks. "No," you reply, "Just one of my friends. He says he wants to meet you... if you're okay with that," you explain but hesitate slightly at the end, not really liking the sound of having Steven over right now after being able to get him off your mind. "Sure! I'd love to meet one of your friends here." Sammy responds, "If that's alright with you of course." he adds.

You take a second to weigh it out in your mind. On one hand, having the guy that you have feelings for over after you went on a whole vacation partially because he doesn't feel that way towards you doesn't sound like the best idea. But maybe having Sammy here will reduce that feeling of awkwardness since it can just be having your friends meet each other.

Taking the gamble, you tell Steven that he's good to come over.

The next few minutes are spent continuing to talk to Sammy, making jokes and having banter. When you hear the knock at your door you and a text from Steven that announces that he's arrived. You get up from the couch and make your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it up. And there he is, smiling at you and giving you his usual polite little "hello". You greet him back before stepping out of the way so that he can come in.

Sammy gets up from his seat on the couch and comes to shake Steven's hand. You see Steven hesitate briefly and sort of freeze up before taking the hand shake. You step in between them.

"Steven, this is my childhood friend, Samson. Samson, this is my friend Steven." you introduce them to each other and gesture to them respectively. "Nice to meet you!" Sammy comments. "Likewise," Steven responds.

You all take a seat, you and Sammy back on the couch while Steven takes a chair from your little dining table set. Sammy and Steven have some good small talk back and forth, talking the usual stuff when you meet new people. You can see Steven being a little fidgety, picking at his sweater sleeve, nodding along but having a small crease between his brows. All things that he does when he's nervous or concerned with something, you take it as Steven being shy about meeting and talking to new people like he usually is. You take it upon yourself to sort of help him by bringing up subjects that you know he's good at talking about.

"Steven loves Ancient Egypt and mythos. He knows pretty much everything," you mention. Sammy raises his brows in interest, "Really?" he questions. "Oh yeah," Steven confirms, "I would have made a bloody good tour guide if my superior wasn't out to get me." Steven remarks. You see Sammy hold back a laugh in the corner of your vision, you turn to him and light-heartedly scold him with a "Stop it.". Sammy looks towards you, his smile growing to a shit-eating grin. "Stop it," you repeat, "Behave. I told you not to laugh," you say as you struggle to keep your own laughter in. "He said the thing." Sammy squeaks out before letting a few laughs leave him. You lean in and bap him on the shoulder playfully, "Stop," you warn as you give him a few baps.

Steven lets out a small laugh that only you can tell is his fake trying-to-pretend-I-get-it laugh. "I'm sorry, Steven." you apologize, "Not even 24 hours in and he doesn't know how to act," you say as you look back to Sammy and give him a playful shake. "I'm sorry." Sammy says to Steven, "There's an inside joke to it I swear." he says.

"What's the joke?" Steven inquires. Your face drops, knowing what Sammy is going to say. "Don't you dare," you warn Sammy as you try to cover his mouth, but Sammy already knew that you are going to stop him and is ready to block your hand. You both spend a few seconds lightly wrestling as you try to cover his mouth and he blocks you in some way. "It has something to do with her-" Sammy says before you interrupt him with a "No!" in objection, "British boyfriend!" Sammy announces. "I don't have a British boyfriend!" you object through laughs as you hit him with a couch pillow. You both spend a few moments laughing. When you finally calm down you find Steven looking at the two of you like you've grown and extra head.

You sigh and look to Sammy, "Why don't you explain 'British boyfriend' to him since you want to talk about it so much?". "Okay, okay," Sammy submits. "This one," Sammy says pointing at you, "Had a thing for this one kid who was visiting family for the summer in our home neighborhood back in seventh grade, or seventh year, whatever it's called here. And so we have this joke that he was her British boyfriend. And I used to do a really bad accent to make her laugh and get all embarrassed.", Sammy looks at you and reassures, "I'm not going to do it, don't worry.".

The conversation goes on but you and Sammy can't help but say more jokes that you then need to explain to Steven, which leads to other stories and laughing fits between the two of you. You try to do the same with Steven in case he references something between the two of you, but you find that Steven just seems to sit there and listen, nodding along. You want to try and prompt something but at some point, you're able to sense this weird tension in the air whenever you do.

You aren't too sure what to do. You don't want to shoo Steven out since you've always said that Steven was always welcomed at your place, but the atmosphere is strange between the two of you for some reason. It isn't until Sammy gives something that would get the job done.

"You know, it's really nice to meet you, Steven. But I think the traveling is starting to catch up with me." Sammy says as he stretches his arms out. "Oh, no worry. I was actually thinking of getting out of your hair. You know..." Steven responds, "Since you guys probably had to get out early to get back here." he clarifies. Steven was already getting up to leave by the time he even started talking.

Sammy and you get up also, and you go in for the usual goodbye hug that you and Steven do when parting ways, Sammy shakes Steven's hand again and says his goodbyes.

Once Steven leaves, you and Sammy set up the couch so that Sammy can nap for a bit. You head to your room so that you can take one for yourself and reflect on the meeting. You still have a bit of that feeling of weird tension but figure that maybe Steven wasn't prepared for all the energy that you and Sammy created and all the inside jokes. Maybe a second get-together could help with that. After all, it might be great to have two best friends also be best friends with each other.

Meanwhile, Steven walks back, sitting in his thoughts quietly as he walks until Marc appears in a reflection along the walk. "What's with the long face?" Marc asks. Steven glances at Marc for a moment, "Nothing, it's just that..." Steven opens up with, "I felt like a bit of a third wheel over there." he admits. Marc shrugs, "Well it is her friend from her hometown, isn't it? I'm sure they'd be all chatty with each other.".

"Yeah, I suppose so." Steven replies, "It just felt a bit... off." Steven remarks.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant

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