#I think my brain ejected me from the dream

[hotelspn]

dreamed that we got an spn reunion/renewal and it was great for a while bc Cas hugged Dean and told him he'd missed him and Dean ran his fingers through Cas' hair, gently kissed his forehead, and then said

"dude"

in the straightest way possible

[dragonblobz]

The Desert Pt3

More sunstreaker. I just love him okay gbgbg. Combining several different incarnations of lore for this fic. Just want the gumpumpst to be happy so don't expect a lot of angst.

It’s like a fairy tale. A futuristic dystopian fairy tale. Everything moving so fast but my brain is all jelly and so all these fast things look so slow.

I’m on the hot pavement in the middle of the Las Vegas strip. Lights so bright that it’s like daylight even tho it’s night. I can see the black night sky even as I’m squinting.

Hot blood dripping from my nose. Fingernails scrabbling on the pavement below and behind me as my feet kick out in desperate jerks. Trying to push me along. Just watching what’s happening up there in the bright cosmetic lighting above me.

A plane. A fucking jet plane. I feel gurgling warmth in my throat. Bile. Blood from my nose. I’m clambering like a rat.

Just watching in amazement and terror. Watching that jet plane just above me warping and crunching in on itself. Becoming something else…

It’s not real. It can’t be. The pavement below it’s feet….. yes FEET….. crumbling into dust as it lands into a sliding crouch. An unknown being unfolds itself before me, carelessly smacking a few cars away from itself. It had been a plane… it’s not a plane anymore….

Screams erupt behind me. People. So…. It must be real then. I’m not laying on the pavement in the middle of the Las Vegas strip simply suffering from some sort of fever dream even tho I’m praying that’s what this is. THEY can see it too.

It looks like a big metal human. Leaning forward as it slides to a stop to crush it’s fists into the pavement. Roaring and clicking. Talking? If it’s talking it’s not talking in any language I’ve ever heard.

And I finally scream too. Hot blood all pungent in my mouth.

…………………….

Skywarp lands on the baking pavement of the strip. Sunstreaker recognizes the dark purple of his metal shell.

“I’ve found you, you useless scrap!”

He’s barking in cybertronian. And that stupid human is just wriggling instead of running. He can see the blind panic on it’s face. Can see it writhing and kicking its feet and clawing at the human made rock beneath it, behind it’s back. And it’s screaming. So unlike the boldness it had shown before.

There’s something coming out of it’s face. Blood, he thinks it’s called. Had he hurt it when he’d ejected it from him?

Sunstreaker had figured the thing would run when he’d ejected it and sped off towards the seeker. Nothing more to tattle on than a strange talking car driving it to its destination. He hadn’t expected it to just squirm and wriggle around on the pavement. Just trembling in terror at the decepticon preparing to crush it.

He hadn’t expected Skywarp to ignore them in favor of targeting the human, either. He SHOULD have. But he’d figured the seeker would follow Sideswipe and himself.

“Ah…. So you’ve got a little pet…”

Skywarp sneers and turns his face to peer down at the little wriggling screaming human below him.

“Little insect just ready to be crushed. You can watch, autobot. While I squish this bug you were carrying.”

The decepticon lifts his hand, curling it into a fist. Grinning maniacally down at that stupid idiot human that can’t seem to have the good sense to simply RUN.

He ought to LET it happen. Then it won’t be his problem anymore. He and Sideswipe can just speed off and Prime won’t be able to be upset about them blowing cover. It’ll be the decepticon’s fault.

It looks so pathetic. Raising it’s tiny fleshy servos as if it could fend off that massive metal fist being raised above it. All that blood.

He can’t let it happen. That dumb human didn’t ask to be here. Didn’t ask to be a part of this war. Didn’t ask to have it’s little face harmed.

He WON’T let it happen. The tires of his alt mode scream on the pavement as he moves to intercept. He can sense Swideswipe moving in tandem behind him.

…………………….

Awful hisses and clicks. The plane robot thing is talking somehow. I can’t understand it. Don’t want to. Feet just jerking out and trying to push me away even as I scream.

It turns it’s face. I watch the red lighting of it’s eyes graze over me. Me. It’s looking at ME. Speaking in that grating awful language I can’t understand.

But it’s intent is clear. It raises one of it’s massive fists above me. It’s going to crush me….

“NO NONO FACK YOU NONO!!!”

I’m still just barely moving. Feet kicking so desperately that my heels are just sliding on the pavement. Hands clabbering too.

I refuse to die. I’m NOT going to die. Just gotta get my panicking body to actually MOVE…..

That big metal fist above me. So slow. And the terrible maniacal expression on the monster’s face… it’s SAVORING my fear…..

I cry and raise my hands, palms up. Like I could somehow just surrender and everything will be okay.

I hear the squealing of tires. Almost don’t even care about the car drifting around me. Just focused on that big awful horrible face sneering down at me. That big fist coming down at me. Screaming until the blood from my nose running down my throat causes me to choke.

Spluttering and coughing. I’m not dead? How?

Jerking my face to watch…..

Christine….. the Lamborghini…. My ghost car…..

It drifts around me like a high budget video game. The city lights gleaming on it’s yellow paint. I can hear screaming that’s not my own too. The other people shoving each other and running probably. I don’t bother to look.

I hear another deafening noise on the other side of me. Rotate my head to stare behind me stupidly. As another Lamborghini, this one cherry red, drifts around the other side of my body.

My chin flops back to my chest. I’m an automaton. Just watching in dumb silence. No more screaming.

Everything is happening so SLOWLY in my panic ridden brain. I just watch helplessly.

My ghost car…. I’m suddenly even more afraid somehow. I’m pretty sure it’s trying to help me. Protect me. But what can one little Lamborghini do against this giant horrible metal monster?

The red Lamborghini continues to drift. Right into the crouching side of this awful giant. It’s face curls from that terrifying maniacal grin, into an expression of rage. That giant fist pulling away from its seemingly inexorable journey towards ME.

And the yellow Lamborghini, MY ghost car, hits it from the other side. The giant falls over onto its side. Awful clicking whirring noises. That weird language. I can tell it’s cursing.

I should run. I NEED to run. My feet scrabble again.

One of its massive fists crushes into the pavement mere feet from me. It’s trying to right itself. I cough another startled scream.

But I can see it lean. Watch it extend a leg, everything still feeling so slow and unreal, and kick that red Lamborghini. The car twirls in the air as it sails into a building.

People begin to pour out of this broken building. From the front door. Screaming. Seeing this monster. Screaming more. Fleeing.

The world rights itself. Time catching up. Adrenaline making everything FAST now.

That red car had been trying to HELP me. By fuck if I’m going to just sit here while this thing kills it. Again? Can ghost cars die more than once??

My eyes flail around me. Looking for anything……

THERE. My shoulder bag, flopped on the hot pavement. With that big fuckn half filled Fiji water bottle.

I’m such a fool. What in the actual fuck is a sack full of water bottles and metformin gonna do to this fuckn thing??

I hoist the pack over my head and scream, this time in defiant rage.

“FACK YOUR STUPID ROBOT MOM!”

I proceed to beat this massive fist beside me with my shoulder pack. Like an idiot.

The monster tilts it’s face at me. An annoyed anger so clear on those features. It raises that fist I’m beating on, out of my reach.

“DIE.”

Oh I understand THIS word. It’s gonna squish me. And this time there is none of that paralyzing fear.

“SUCK IT!” The hand not holding my pack curls into a middle finger and I rage scream at my own death hurtling down at me.

“SWIDESWIPE!”

Even screaming…. That’s still the voice of MY ghost car. The giant above me hesitates and turns it’s head. I do too. Violent screaming forgotten.

The shocking yellow Lamborghini serves and twists. And speeds at its full rpm towards this big asshole.

I scream again as it comes. This time, a valkyrie war cry. Get em!

The car drives up and off building debris. Becoming airborne.

And it’s now that time slows again. I can’t fucking believe what I’m seeing…. If any of this is real in the first place.

The Lambo. My ghost car. My Christine…..

It does just as that jet had done. Transforming mid air. One moment a fancy sports car, the next it’s unfolding into….. another fucking robot???

It collides with the monster robot at probably 80 miles an hour. The noise is deafening and I squeak and crouch instinctively. Hands flying to my ears. Shoulder bag falling to the pavement.

It's fighting like a monster. And the awful purple robot is much bigger. But it’s like it doesn’t even care. Grasping it’s face and punching like a berserker.

I both feel and hear massive movement behind me. Massive enough to make me actually turn away from what I’m seeing.

ANOTHER fucking giant robot. This one shiny and red. My brain struggles, connecting dots. Red Lambo…. Red robot….

The red robot’s face coils in determination. It crouches and curls it’s fists across it’s chest. I watch large blades burst forth from the tops of it’s wrists.

And it charges. I know a battle cry when I hear it.

The monster throws the yellow robot. I gasp and drop my arms to hold myself. Monsters. They’re all monsters. But that yellow one….. that’s MY ghost car….. they’re trying to PROTECT me. I’m not so diffused with terror that I can’t recognize that.

The red guy hits the big robot just as he’s leveling what seriously appears to be a gun, on its arm, at MY yellow guy.

It’s a real battle. Red robot slashing. Big robot trying to swat it away. And finally succeeding. I watch the red guy fly away again.

And we are alone in a way. The giant’s fiery red eyes flail about erratically before landing on me again.

“Oh fuck…” It’s a quiet frightened whisper from me.

It doesn’t grin this time. It’s almost a sneer as it raises it’s fist once more. And I find myself, and sneer right back.

You can squish me you asshole.... but I’m NOT afraid of you….

Suddenly, I can’t see the big monster anymore. There’s a yellow body in front of me.

It’s him. The yellow guy. Body heaving. Large venting noises. He’s not a giant but he’s still HUGE and SO close. Not facing me. I realize…. That he’s put himself between me and that big awful robot.

He screams too, just as defiant as my scream had been. A big roar so thrumming and so close. And I notice that there’s a big gun in his right hand. I lose sight of it as he raises it. And fires.

All is light. An explosion. The yellow body of my big ghost car robot guy blocks most of the wind and debris from hitting me. But I still shriek and fall to my knees with my arms over my head. It’s instinctive.

The light dies away. I can still hear distant screams of people. Burning roaring fire.

“Are you okay? You were so brave!”

I jerk my face up. Looking up at the face of that big red robot. It’s smiling down at me like it’s my bestie.

“You wanted to just…”

Another deep vibrating vent noise coming from it as it jabs both of its fists forward like it’s fighting an imaginary foe.

“Kick his ass!”

Okay. Okay I like this guy. I just pant up at him tho. Shaking.

“We have to go.”

My eyes shift over. To see him….. him….. my ghost car. Big yellow robot. Scowling down at me like I’m a piece of dog crap on the ground.

“Oh alright.” The red guy huffs, another big venting noise. I like him a whole lot.

I watch, dumbfounded, as red guy curls and contorts himself, to become a shiny red Lamborghini again. Engine roaring to life.

I turn to look at…. Man THIS guy doesn’t like me at ALL.

The huge yellow robot continues to scowl down at me. He looks so ANGRY. And thoughtful. An eternity curled into a moment.

He huffs finally. Crouches. Leans forward. I can only gasp as a yellow Lamborghini blooms into life before me.

It’s passenger door hisses open gracefully. Quiet and fancy. The empty interior yawns at me.

“Get in, human.”

I hesitate. And a large noise behind me makes me turn.

It’s the monster. Its leaking purple fluids and grunting, but it’s still alive. It snarls and opens a single red eye to glare at me. At ME.

“Oh…. Fuck….”

“Get in, for Primus’ sake.” My ghost car huffs loudly.

“Or stay. I think Skywarp has a thing or two to say to you.”

Skywarp? Is that what that big fucker is called?

“Be nice, Sunstreaker! I like this human!”

This voice comes from the red Lambo. I DEFINITELY like THAT ghost car. Ghost car? Robot?

“In…” It’s an angry dark growl. Coming from that yellow Lamborghini. MY Lamborghini. I mean it isn’t MINE but……

I don’t hesitate again. Bending down to pick up my shoulder pack. Just feel oddly nervous and shy as I choose, once again, to sink down into that nice plush leather interior. Simply sit quietly while the door hisses closed, closing me inside again. Not inside a ghost car. This thing is something else…..

Just that quiet soothing engine purr as the decimated Vegas strip recedes behind us.

“Strap in.” It’s a dark growl coming from all around me.

I don’t understand, at first.

“I won’t hurt you again. Now, strap in.”

I look around me curiously. And see a seat belt. There had not been one before.

I don’t argue again. Just do as I’m told. Strapping myself into the fancy racing style seat harness that just exists now I guess.

Quiet pleasant engine purring under my butt. Does it…. He?..... does he think I’m just gonna sit here? Hardly.

“Sunstreaker……” I’m just musing.

“That’s your name isn’t it? That’s what the red guy had said.”

“His name is Sideswipe.” This answer is downright hateful. Like my Christine…. My Sunstreaker…. Wants that red guy addressed appropriately.

Maybe I should feel hurt. Irritated. Upset at this car talking to me this way.

I don’t. I just suddenly feel so soft and grateful.

“Okay. Sideswipe.”

I turn my body as best as I can in this harness. See the headlights of the other car. And smile.

“Thank you, Sideswipe.” It’s just a quiet little sound.

Those headlights flash. Off. On. Off. On again. Like that car heard me. I smile like an idiot. Turn to just sink into this nice soft leather seat.

“And thank you…. Sunstreaker….. you….. saved my….. life…..”

At first I figure this car isn’t gonna answer me. Several moments of that quiet pleasant engine purring below me. Long enough for my eyes to feel droopy. Nose hurts. I’m aware of the dried blood on my face. But I’m just….. I’m TIRED.

“You’re welcome.” It’s a stunted gruff answer. I’m not even sure if it’s not just in my head. So sleepy.

“Get some rest.”

Sounds so angry. But why would an angry person tell me to rest…..

My consciousness fades away into dreams. Panic ridden body finally relaxing.

[teamhappyme]

it only feels this raw right now

jake seresin x female!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: hurt/tiny comfort, none unless you count jake seresin just existing

a/n: hi, friends!! it has been, like, a year and a half since i’ve written anything and posted on here but! i’m back! i’ve been writing this for legit 8 months and finally finished this after rewriting and rethinking it so many. fucking times. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo for listening to me lie “I’m going to finish this today” for MONTHS and for supporting all my silly little fantasies and thoughts. this was going to be hurt/no comfort but i couldn’t deny the comfort in me, and there is potential for a part 2 if i ever decide to get motivation :) ok here it is enjoy BYE- (yes taylor swift inspired title from labyrinth leave me alone)

~~~

It was a moment you knew you’d look back on and think ‘this is when i lost everything i’ve ever loved.’

But really, you think, i never had the chance to love him.

It was never a dream of yours, to become a naval aviator. You didn’t have a family legacy to continue, natural talents guiding you, or an intangible need to be in the air. It was simply a career move to join the navy, to move into a field where women weren’t represented, and be able to go anywhere you were needed. 

It was never a dream of yours to fly F-18’s into combat, to spend hours fighting nausea, anxiety, and ejections thousands of feet into the air.

It was never a dream of yours to be invited to top gun, to compete against the best and cockiest naval aviators in the business. Fightertown was not supposed to feel like coming home for you and the small group of friends you grew close to during your decade long service to the navy.

But it was certainly never a dream of yours to fall for the guy who you knew would always leave you behind.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” Jake yelled out to you from the other side of the deck.

Avoiding you, smartass, and your annoying habit of dropping half of the letters that make a word, was the response floating through your brain.

“C’mon, Mav’s gonna buy us another round, and if you don’t step in, we’re going to have to listen to his welcome home speech. Again.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” high tide was rolling in, and the sound of the waves brought a smile to your face. “I’m enjoying the view.”

“It would be better if I stood right,” he moved in front of you, his broad shoulders completely blocking the ocean, smile turned up into the slightest smirk, “here.”

It was a miracle that Jake Seresin has never had his nose broken with the amount of times he’s crowded a woman’s space. And yet, the little shticks he pulled always brought a smile to your face. Something that most of your fellow aviators often rolled their eyes at.

“Funny.” you moved out of his line of sight, focusing back on the crashing tide. “Don’t wait on me, go ahead and claim your free round.”

“Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating the fact that we all came home from that death trap mission - thanks to yours truly - not longingly staring into the abyss as you contemplate life’s greater meaning.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you smirked,  “it’s still a sore spot, being the losing quarterback in dogfight football. This view must be hard for you to look at.”

“We’re gonna go there, really?”

“You gonna stand there and pretend it doesn’t sting?” You joked as he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” his eyes were still on you as your smirk fell, and you looked back at the horizon. You were holding onto the railing for dear life, Jake observed, and your knuckles were beginning to turn white. “Seriously, what are you doing out here?”

“What, a woman seriously can’t enjoy this ocean view?”

“Not if that woman is you.” 

It was the slightest change of tone in his voice that got you to look over at him. Jake seresin in his civilian clothes was a rarity, and you were basking in his casual jeans and white t-shirt combination tonight. Also in rare form, his mouth in a straight line, showing you he wasn’t joking anymore. 

And neither were you.

“I’m not going back to Top Gun.”

His expression didn’t change as he replied back, “None of us are, mission’s over. We’re getting our new assignments after this furlough.”

“No, Seresin,” you began while shaking your head. “I’m not going back to Top Gun to get my assignment, or debrief the mission any further.”

His eyebrows scrunched together, trying to figure out what you were saying without actually saying it.

“I passed my papers this past week. I’m done flying.”

He took two seconds to register the information, then scoffed. 

“You can’t just be done flying in the Navy, this is the military we’re talking about. There’s rules, regulations, a thousand steps and pieces of red tape to comb through. You don’t just retire.”

“I didn’t say I was stepping away from the Navy, not yet anyway. But I’m done being a fighter pilot.”

“Are you,” Jake ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated, and you had no idea why. “Are you even listening to me? You don’t tell the United States Navy you’re done, they tell you when you’re done. I don’t understand how you got your papers through, no one in their right mind is going to let a pilot as good as you just walk away. You’d have to kiss major ass of an admiral, or someone who knows an admiral or-”

He froze then, leaving his sentence unfinished as he turned to look at you. 

“Maverick?” he asked, and you couldn’t do anything besides nod. “You can’t just leave,”

“Why not?” you asked, growing annoyed by the second of his inability to accept this. 

“Because you’re a fighter pilot, a damn good one at that, and you’re just going to throw it away to be a, what, a civilian?”

“Surprised you could say the word without gagging,” you jeered, his eyes narrowing in on you.

“Listen, I’m trying to reason here with you, understand what’s going on-”

“Then ask me a fucking question instead of telling me what I can and can’t do.”

You didn’t look away from him as he came to stand next to you, that fucking smirk still on his face. He waited a few seconds, sizing you up before opening his mouth again.

“Fine. Why are you leaving?”

It was not a simple question, and it was one you have had to answer several times over the last few weeks. To Maverick, you said it was time to move on. You needed a change from the fast paced, no roots life of a naval aviator. To the admiral, you said you’d accomplished everything you wanted in your career as a fighter pilot with the Navy. He saluted you on a job well done on this latest mission. And to the transition counselor, you said the job had begun to scare you. She encouraged you to find another purpose in the Navy as your leave was to be finalized.

But none of those answers were the full truth, not even all put together. 

“Because I don’t want to sit through debriefs, or listen to the list of tactical strategies we can use, or face another deployment in a place I don’t know and people I don’t trust.”

“I don’t want to do that shit any more than you do, but I do it. I suck it up so that I can get in the air and fly. That’s what all this is about, right? Getting in the air and doing what we were born to do.”

“And that doesn’t terrify you?” you questioned. “It doesn’t terrify you that the moment you get up there you could burn into a million pieces? Get shot down in the middle of foreign air space, get stuck in a bird strike, even make a dumb mistake like run out of fuel? Cause everytime I suit up I think: is today the day my family gets a letter from the Navy, thanking me for my service and making the ultimate sacrifice?” your eyes were beginning to water, and you were desperate not to cry in front of him. “So yeah, I went to Mav and asked a big favor to get me out, and I don’t regret it. And I’m not going to let you or anyone else make me feel bad about it.”

Jake refused to look away from you, and it was making you feel the slightest bit intimidated, though you’d never admit that to him.

“Hey, Hangman,” you heard the giggly voice and could already picture the drunk, plastered smile on a petite girl Jake always went after. Looking over at the back door to the hard deck, the brunette in a slinky pink sundress and two drinks in her hand confirmed your guess. “You gonna come back in here and finish these drinks with me?”

He looked at her, muttering a ‘shit’ under his breath, and you took this as an opportunity to wipe at your eyes.

“I’ll be right there.”

You shook your head as she went back inside, and turned away from Jake. 

“Can’t go a day without a girl, can you, Hangman?” you said with a scoff. “You know what, thanks for attempting to understand my decision, but I don’t want to keep you from that lovely woman inside.”

“That’s your problem, you know. You think you’re so much better than us, with your ivy league education and moral standing, you can’t stand being lumped into a mission, let alone a group of plebes with us.”

“You got me, I’m disgusted with you all so much I risk my life for you every time I get in the air.” You shook your head, not wanting to get into an argument over this with Jake. “Just leave me alone, Seresin.”

“Not until you tell me the real reason you’re leaving the navy. Everyone’s scared shitless up there, your fear is nothing special.”

“Because I can’t do this anymore!” you relented. “I can’t go months on deployment, dreaming of the day I’m going to get back to North Island to see you, only to find that exact scenario,” you motioned to the door once again, referring to the next random woman in his life, “playing out every damn time for the last seven years.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He commented, losing all his charm and ego.

“I know you don’t.” You didn’t know where to go with this.

It was never your intention to reveal your feelings for Jake, to Jake. It was something you planned on keeping tucked away for the rest of your life, minus the part where Phoenix was starting to catch on. You didn’t want to feel this way for him, but his stupid grin, and his annoying sense of humor, and the small snippets of sincerity he would reveal to you reeled you in. And you knew it was going to hurt you, continuing to watch him bounce from girl to girl in the bar you guys called home, but you had his friendship. 

Besides, a guy like Hangman would never want to settle down with a woman like you.

You watched as he looked from the ocean view, to you, back and forth as he tried to think of something to say. And damn your fucking brain for focusing on how beautiful his green eyes looked in this light. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? How was I supposed to know-”

“And what would you have done? Let me down slowly as our friends slowly start to pick sides; create awkward moments while training for a mission that almost killed us?” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around your body in an attempt to both warm up and comfort yourself. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re not the reason I’m leaving. I just can’t do all of this anymore, it’s not healthy for me. And I can’t pretend to enjoy it anymore. Let’s just… go back inside and get this night over with.”

You turned to walk back inside, but Jake had to open that big mouth of his.

“Why did you assume I wouldn’t feel the same?”

“What?” Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“You really think I enjoy coming back to North Island every year to see Rooster? To listen to Fanboy, Phoenix, and Coyote sing into the early morning? If I wanted to spend a weekend with Coyote, I sure as hell don’t need to spend a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Fightertown.”

It was your turn to throw a confused look at Jake. Was this his way of telling you he cares about you?

“Half the reason I was up Rooster’s ass to make the team was to protect you out there. No doubt in my mind you were going to make the team, and I couldn’t let you go out there without me on your six.”

Your eyes began to water again, realization sinking in.

“Are you serious right now?”

He threw his hands in the air, “why would I choose this moment to fuck with you?”

“I just have a hard time believing you cared about me after watching you go after half of the women in this town.”

“That’s not fair-”

“I’m not trying to offend you, I’m just stating the facts, Seresin. Believe me, I don’t want to be in love with the one man who refuses to be in a relationship, but we don’t really get a choice in it now do we.”

His eyes softened, mouth dropping open the slightest bit. You furrowed your brows at him, and then remembered what you said. 

You love him.

“I told you,” you wiped away a tear that fell and took a breath, “I really can’t do this anymore.”

He moved to take a step towards you, and you took one back at the same time, keeping the distance between you. He breathed out your name, and it took everything in you not to let him close to you.

“I do believe you, on some level and I don’t know if that’s because it’s true, or I just want my feelings reciprocated-”

“It’s true.” He was adamant. Determined. Sincere. 

“But I meant what I said. I can’t be a naval aviator anymore, no matter the circumstances. I need to take the time to figure out what I want to do, who I want to be outside of here.” Your eyes began to water again as you looked at him, then to the image of your friends inside the bar, laughing the night away. “And maybe that will give us time to really see how we feel about each other.”

“It’s not going to change.” He commented, watching as his hands flexed in and out of a fist. “If it hasn’t changed over the course of five years, it’s not going to change over the course of a few months. I don’t care how much distance there is between us or how many women you put in front of me, I’m still gonna be in love with you.”

Hearing him say it, i’m still gonna be in love with you, made you believe that this may have all been worth it. Maybe.

You let him take the two steps closer to you, willing yourself to trust him and his words. He brought his hands up to your face, gently wiping the tears off your cheeks. You quickly brought your hands up to rest on his forearms as his forehead fell to yours.

“I’m still going to need some time,” you felt him nod against you. “But I trust you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled before bringing his lips to your forehead, softly kissing your skin. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Maybe, you think, I’ll get that chance to love him after all.

~~~~

[strangerstilinski]

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter three - - chapter four - - chapter five

fic summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

chapter word count; 9,804

chapter notes; scott has a disturbingly realistic nightmare that he can't seem to get out of his head. lydia gives her best shot at playing matchmaker. something about big bad derek just doesn't seem to add up and amber sets off to figure him out for herself.

masterlist

c h a p t e r   f o u r

pack mentality

Sandwiched between Stiles and Scott, Amber walked up the concrete path to the school building, pulling her backpack straps tighter around her shoulders as she listened to Scott recount the vivid dream he'd had the night before.

"I'm serious, you guys. It was an actual nightmare-" He explained, "In the dream I couldn't control my shift and we were locked inside a school bus.. Allison was trying to get away but.. There was so much blood.." Scott shook his head as if trying to eject the memory from his brain and Amber lifted a hand to give him a sympathetic pat on the back.

Stiles wrenched open the large metal doors to the building when the trio reached them, "So you killed her?"

"I don't know, I just woke up," Scott said as he and Amber entered the school, stepping past where Stiles was holding the door open for them, "And I was sweating like crazy.. And I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before-"

"Really?" Stiles questioned with a grin, a look of satisfaction taking over his face at the innuendo, "I have. Usually ends a little differently.." He wrapped an arm around Amber's shoulders as they walked down the hallway and pulled her into his side with a laugh, "What about you, Am? You ever had one of these dreams? With the heavy breathing and the sweating and the-"

She turned slightly into Stiles' side beneath his arm, pressing her fingertips against his lips to stop the rambling. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she her mind drifted to the dream she'd had the week before that has featured Stiles himself, from which she'd woken up breathing heavily and coated in a sheen of sweat. She looked into his wide eyes as they continued down the hallway with slow steps and she remembered the moment in her dream just before she'd gasped herself awake, the moment that Stiles' warm brown eyes had locked with hers just before she'd come.

After what was probably a moment too long, she removed her hand from his mouth, "Yes, Stiles. I've had a sex dream before. You're hilarious."

"Wh- Really?" He sputtered, "About who?"

She took a pointed step to the side to put some space between Stiles and herself and his arm fell from her shoulders to hang limply at his side again as they picked their pace back up. She was saved from having to dodge the question herself when Scott interjected.

"A, I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real. And B, never give me that much detail about either of you in bed again."

Stiles sighed a long-suffering sigh at the change in topic but surrendered, "Noted. Let me just take a guess here-"

"No," Scott interrupted, "I know you both probably think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow, like I'm gonna lose it and rip her throat out."

"Of course not-" Stiles began, cut off when Amber spoke over him.

"Noo.." She drew out the word with sarcasm.

Stiles gave in first, "Yeah, that's totally it." At Scott's dejected sigh, he continued, "Hey, listen, it's gonna be fine, alright?"

Amber nodded, patting Scott on the shoulder, "I think you're doing pretty well, all things considered-"

"She's right. I mean, personally, I think you're doing pretty frickin' amazingly, you know? It's not like there's a Lycanthropy For Beginners class you can take." Stiles joked.

"Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher..” Scott hinted, gauging for his friend's reactions.

"I think it's probably the best idea you've had since-" Amber started.

Stiles looked between them with wide eyes, "Who, Derek?" He reached around to hit Scott in the back of the head and used his other to smack Amber in her shoulder, "You both forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?" Stiles exclaimed, his voice loud as they moved through the crowded hallway.

Scott raised his own voice in response, "Yeah! I know but-"

"I will not be settled with equal blame in that. I still think we should've at least talked to the guy before-" Amber's voice was drowned out as Scott continued to speak.

"-Chasing Allison, dragging her to the back of the bus, it all felt so real."

"How real?" Stiles asked, opening a set of side-doors that led out to the courtyard and leading Amber through as Scott followed them a step behind.

"Like it actually happened," Scott said as they stepped out to the paved area that held outdoor tables and a smaller parking lot. When his two friends came to an abrupt stop, Scott walked straight into Amber from behind and stumbled. He caught himself with a hand on her shoulder before stepping up to stand beside her. His friends' eyes were trained ahead of them, mouths open in shock and Scott looked to what had caught their attention.

There was blood everywhere.

A school bus had its rear emergency door hanging loosely from the hinges, dozens of bloody streaks and handprints marked up the yellow paint. There were uniformed deputies rushing around the taped-off crime scene, taking photographs and swabbing surfaces for evidence.

"I-I think maybe it did." Amber said quietly as her hands began to shake.

The three tumbled back into the school building in a rush to check for any sign of Allison. Scott looked panicked and Amber wrapped a hand around his bicep as she raced to keep up with the boys who were both taller than her, her mind quickly spiraling in fear.

"She's probably fine!" Stiles assured them, not quite managing to keep the nerves out of his own voice.

Scott reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, desperately checking it for new messages before squeezing it tightly in his hand and putting it back. His voice was strained as he turned to look at his friends, "She's not answering my texts, you guys-"

Amber took a deep breath, unable to speak. She squeezed Scott's arm in her hand and looked to Stiles on her other side with wide eyes.

"It could just be a coincidence, alright?" Stiles said as they continued to scour the hallway for any sign of Allison, "A seriously amazing coincidence."

"What deity did we piss off to earn this much chaos in only two weeks, anyway?" Amber breathed. Her hands were still shaking, but the one gripping onto Scott's bicep felt slightly more controlled.

"Just- Help me find her. Okay?" Scott pleaded with them, his feet still moving quickly as he raced down the hall.

They'd covered the entire east wing of the school without a glimpse of the girl and when they reached an unoccupied row of lockers, Scott tugged himself out of Amber's grip to brace himself against them. He dropped his forehead to one of the cool metal doors and his hands came up on either side of him. He was breathing heavily, in a scarily similar way to when he was on the lacrosse field, just before he had lost control and tried to kill them in the locker room.

"Scott?" Amber asked softly. She had begun to take a step closer when Stiles pulled her back gently with a hand on her shoulder.

She and Stiles watched as Scott breathed harshly for a few moments before Scott suddenly stood upright, tightening his right hand into a fist and punching the door of the locker. The force behind it put a deep, hand-sized dent in the metal, bending it at an angle that had the lock disengaging and sent the locker door swinging open slightly, hanging sadly from its hinges.

Scott took another deep breath, backing away from the destruction while he and Amber both looked around at their peers, checking if anyone had seen or heard his episode, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

When Scott rushed down the hallway, Stiles used the hand still gripping Amber's shoulder to guide her in the other direction, "He needs a minute to calm down, Am."

"Yeah, and we need to help him-" She started, trying to step away but his grip was firm as he pulled her in the opposite direction.

"You and I aren't gonna be much help if we end up in a situation like last week and he manages to actually kill us this time," Stiles argued, "We'll keep looking- Give him a while to calm down, and then we'll regroup, okay?"

"I- Yeah," She deflated, "No, you're right."

Satisfied that she wasn't about to rush off to follow after Scott, Stiles released her and gave her back full autonomy of her body as they approached her locker. After she'd packed away her things and collected her books for English, the two made their way to Stiles' locker so that he could do the same. All the while they kept their eyes peeled for the Argent girl, but didn't manage to find any sign of her in the hallways.

When Amber slid into her desk in front of Stiles, she sighed at the two empty seats in the row to the right of them. She turned around in her seat to face Stiles and kept her shaky voice low in an attempt at privacy, "What if it was real and Allison is-"

"-Walking in the room with Scott right now," Stiles finished her sentence, nodding toward the front of the classroom.

Amber spun forward again so quickly she only narrowly avoided sweeping all of her books onto the floor, but Stiles was right. Allison was walking into the room with her usual soft smile on her face, certainly not looking like she had been mauled by a werewolf the night before, and Scott trailed just a couple of steps behind her.

When Scott slid into his seat, Amber leaned slightly over the arm of her desk to lessen some of the space between them, shooting him a glare, "Would a text have killed you?" She hissed, "I'm pretty sure I was only a few minutes away from an aneurysm from stress."

"Sorry." Scott shrugged, not looking entirely sorry, as he smiled gratefully at the back of Allison's head.

"Unbelievable." Amber leaned back into her seat muttering. Despite her words, she felt a wave of relief rush over her with the knowledge that Allison was okay. As her back came to rest in her seat fully for the start of class, she felt Stiles reach across his desk to squeeze her shoulder softly. She tilted her head to the side and pressed her cheek to the back of his warm hand for a moment before sitting up a little in her seat.

Everything was fine.

By the time third period came around, the sick feeling in Amber's gut had returned. Even though Allison was safe, there was still a crime scene in the back parking lot along with a bloodsoaked school bus, Scott had still dreamt that he'd been there the night before, and someone or something had lost a concerning amount of blood.

Scott turned around to face where his friends sat at the sideways tables behind him, "Maybe it was my blood on the door," He suggested quietly.

Amber shrugged in response while she continued to copy down the equation that Mr. Harris was writing up on the chalkboard.

"Could have been animal blood," Stiles interjected, fiddling with the pencil in his hand, teeter-tottering it back and forth rapidly between his middle and forefinger, "Y'know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something."

Scott frowned in confusion, "And did what?"

"Ate it." Stiles said simply.

Amber snorted quietly, glancing up to the front of the room to ensure their teacher hadn't heard it. Mr. Harris was still facing the blackboard, so she felt safe enough to whisper back to her friends, "Gross, Scott. You ate a rabbit?" She questioned gleefully.

"What and I ate it raw?" Scott asked.

"No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven." Stiles glared, annoyed. Amber laughed quietly again as he continued, "I don't know, you're the one who can't remember anything."

"Mr. Stilinski," Harris' voice rang out with its usual amount of irritation, "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Amber looked back at her notes, face flushing in mortification, and she heard Stiles huff a nervous laugh, "I think you, Mr. McCall and Miss Callisto would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No-" Stiles protested immediately.

Mr. Harris glared from behind his small, black framed glasses and pointed to an empty seat at the far end of the classroom, and another at a table in the front. Stiles and Scott both huffed, but collected their things none the less and moved to their respective new seats. Amber remained in her seat, avoiding the amused gaze of the classmate she shared her table with.

"Hey! I think they found something!" The girl sitting beside Scott suddenly yelled, rushing to the window overlooking the back parking lot.

Every student in the classroom followed suit and ran to the wall of windows. Amber pushed through to the front of the room and hovered just behind Scott and Stiles, peeking over their shoulders to see the person being carted toward an ambulance on a gurney.

"That's not a rabbit," Scott stated quietly.

The old man on the gurney suddenly sat upright and attempted to pull away from the paramedics. He screamed and all the students hovering by the windows flinched back in surprise. The backward movement of the boys in front of her had her tripping over her own feet and Amber's hands went to Stiles' waist to steady herself.

Scott backed away from the scene slowly with a horrified look on his face. Amber and Stiles immediately followed after him and went to their friend's side.

"Guys, what-" Amber swallowed past a lump in her throat, unable to finish her question. She looked to Stiles with wide eyes, hoping he might have something to say to make the situation seem less dire.

"This is good!" Stiles said, "This is good." He repeated, looking back and forth between his friend and the windows, "He got up, he's not dead. Dead guys can't do that." Stiles let out a long breath.

"You guys.. I did that." Scott whispered.

"Hey, listen. We don't know for sure that you did anything." Amber assured Scott again. She settled her lunch tray over her forearm and reached out to rub Scott's arm encouragingly as they made their way to an empty table.

"Dreams aren't memories." Stiles agreed in a whisper.

"Then it wasn't a dream." Scott countered, setting his tray down on a table, "Something happened last night and I can't remember what."

Scott grabbed a seat, throwing his sweatshirt into the empty chair beside him. Stiles pulled out his own seat across the table and Amber settled herself into the one to the right of Stiles.

"What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?" Stiles asked in defeat.

"Well to start, he was fine on the full moon-" Amber started.

"Yeah," Scott agreed, "He was in total control on a full moon while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy."

"You don't know that." Stiles reiterated to their friend.

"I don't not know it!" Scott said, leaning forward into his lunch tray as he spoke. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel-"

"No." Stiles interjected, "You're not canceling, okay?"

Amber frowned, unsure when Stiles had taken this stance on Scott's love-life, but wanting to reassure him all the same.

"The next full moon isn't for another two weeks," Amber stated, "So, you'll be fine tomorrow, and then after you've gone on your amazingly perfect date, we'll work on your control. By the time the full moon comes around, you'll be totally fine."

"Yeah. You can't just cancel your entire life. We'll figure it out." Stiles agreed.

"Figure what out?" Lydia's voice cut in. The girl dropped her lunch tray down beside Scott's and fell gracefully into the seat across from Amber.

Stiles huffed out a surprised breath, looking at Amber as if she might know why the strawberry blonde was joining their table at lunch.

"Uh-" Scott said dumbly.

"Just homework." Amber smiled, reaching to grab a chicken tender from Stiles' plate and beginning to rip it into tiny pieces over her salad.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed loudly before turning to whisper in Amber's ear, "Why is she sitting with us?"

Amber shrugged in response just as the rest of the empty seats at their table were suddenly being filled. A guy Amber didn't know very well from the lacrosse team sat at the head of the table between Lydia and herself. Danny Mahealani settled into the seat on the other side of Stiles. Allison went to the seat beside Scott, pausing while he collected his sweatshirt from the table so that she could set her tray down.

"Thanks," Allison said to him with a smile.

"Get up." Jackson's voice cut in harshly, glaring at the boy sitting beside Amber.

The boy floundered for a moment, "How come you never ask Danny to get up?" He questioned, pointing to where Danny was sitting a few seats away.

"Because," Danny interjected, pointedly looking at the way the boy's eyes were glued to Lydia's chest, "I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot."

The boy pulled his eyes away from the redhead in embarrassment and huffed, quickly grabbing his tray and rushing off so that Jackson could take his vacant seat.

"So, I hear they're saying it's some kind of animal attack. Probably a cougar." Danny said, unknowingly steering the topic of conversation back where it had been only moments before.

"I heard mountain lion." Jackson disagreed.

"Same thing," Amber said through a large mouthful of salad at the same time Lydia said, "A cougar is a mountain lion."

Jackson's eyes narrowed at his girlfriend and Lydia continued, "Isn't it?" Lydia asked dumbly, looking up at Amber across the table in faux-confusion.

"Who cares," Jackson rolled his eyes, "The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

Amber's eyes snapped back to Jackson and she had to fight the urge to stab her fork into his hand instead of the salad on her plate.

She felt Stiles' hand go to her shoulder as he leaned over the table with a video playing on his phone, "Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out." Stiles said, positioning his phone so that most of the table could see the newsreel he was playing.

"The Sheriff's Department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition." The reporter recounted over a video clip that had been taken of the crime scene, followed by a photograph of the victim smiling that they'd managed to pull from somewhere.

"I know this guy." Scott said, looking up at his two best friends with wide eyes. Amber took a shaky breath at the admission, glancing over at Stiles to see he looked just as dejected. "When I used to take the bus back when I lived with my dad.. He was the driver."

There was a moment of silence wherein the three friends sat with matching looks of devastation.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia cut in, "Like- Oh, what are we doing tomorrow night?" She asked excitedly, eyes flicking to Amber before they settled on Allison at the other end of the group, "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

There was an awkward moment where Amber watched Allison choke down the bite of food she had in her mouth, eyes bouncing between Lydia and Scott, "Um," She struggled, "We were still thinking of what we were gonna do."

Amber and Stiles made brief eye contact, unsure how Scott and Allison could get out of sudden the turn of events.

"Well," Lydia said, "I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the six of us are hanging out, we're doing something fun."

Allison was nervously sipping from her water bottle when Scott turned to face her, "Hanging out? Like, the six of us?" He asked slowly.

Stiles reached a hand up to cover his own mouth to keep from groaning in frustration. Amber grabbed his hand and pulled it down to settle on the top of the table, squeezing it for a moment.

"Do you wanna hang out, like, us and them?" Scott asked Allison quietly.

"Yeah," Allison said after a second, "I guess. Sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork." Jackson said, holding up a metal fork identical to the one Amber had debated stabbing him with just a few minutes earlier.

"Well I'm, uh, busy.." Stiles said, hoping to get things back on track for Scott's date.

While Stiles had caught the grateful look Scott shot him, he missed the shattered expression that flooded the face of the girl sitting beside him. Amber let out a pained breath at Stiles' immediate dismissal of being paired up with her on something as simple as a group date.

"-With my dad. Gotta.. Do a thing." He finished lamely.

"Fine." Lydia dismissed, "Don't worry, hon, I happen to have a backup date all lined up for you." The redhead grinned slyly at Amber, like this was going more according to her plan than she could've hoped.

"A date?" Stiles squeaked at the same time Amber furrowed her eyebrows and said, "A backup date?"

"Well if he's too busy," Lydia started, shooting a small glare at Stiles, "We can't leave you fifth wheeling, can we?" She explained, "What, do you have plans with his dad, too?" She asked sarcastically, raising her eyebrows at Amber.

"I- No, I. I guess I don't." She confirmed, avoiding eye contact and moving the lettuce around on her plate.

"Good," Lydia smiled before turning her attention to her boyfriend, "How about bowling? You love to bowl."

Jackson scoffed, "Yeah, with actual competition."

"How do you know we're not actual competition?" Allison asked, turning to Scott with a smile, "You can bowl, right?"

Scott paused, eyes wide, "Sort of."

Amber grimaced, glancing up at Stiles to find him still looking at her with a frown, a french fry dangling from between his lips as if he'd had some sort of life changing realization mid-bite.

What? She mouthed to him, grabbing the exposed half of the fry and pulling it from his mouth. Stiles simply shook his head like he was clearing his thoughts and returned his attention to the rest of the table as he chewed the food still in his mouth.

"Is it sort of, or yes?" Jackson was prodding Scott.

"Yes." Scott said defiantly, sitting up a little straighter in his seat, "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

Amber sighed in all sorts of disappointment.

Stiles and Scott made their way from their final class of the day in a rush to leave school, moving faster that normal with the knowledge that they didn't have lacrosse practice that afternoon. They entered the stairwell and moved quickly until they reached the bottom.

"You're terrible at bowling!" Stiles finally said loudly, thinking back on the fiasco in the lunchroom.

"I know!" Scott whined, "I'm such an idiot!"

"God, It was like watching a car wreck. I mean, first it turns into this whole group date thing. And then out of nowhere comes that phrase-"

"'Hang out.'" Scott agreed.

"You don't hang out with hot girls, okay? It's like death. Once it's hanging out you might as well be her gay best friend. Believe me. It'll be like me and Amber when we're 'hanging out'." Stiles ranted as they turned into the lower hallway.

"How is this happening?" Scott asked, blind to the way his friend was beginning to spiral, "I either killed a guy or I didn't."

"God! I could've had a date with Amber and I freaking blew it." Stiles complained, "D'you think she would've thought it was a real date? Who do you think she's going on the date with now?" Stiles asked, his mind racing.

"I ask Allison on a date, and now we're hanging out." Scott said to himself, ignoring Stiles.

"Scott, who do you think Amber's going on the date with now?"

"I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me. And now-" Scott bemoaned before he checked the time on his phone with a groan, "Now I'm gonna be late for work." He said, running off again and leaving Stiles standing in the middle of the hall.

"Wait, Scott!" Stiles called after his friend's retreating form, "You didn't- Who's Amber going on the date with now! You didn't-" He paused, continuing quietly to himself, "Answer my question."

"Ben Davis." A voice came a few inches from Stiles' ear.

Stiles jumped, flailing his arms and tripping forward a few steps. He nearly smacked the girl beside him as he caught his footing and he heard Amber's laughter as he righted himself.

"Ben Davis?" Stiles repeated with a grimace.

Stiles didn't necessarily like the thought of Amber going on a date with one of the many assholes that Lydia could have easily lined up from the lacrosse team. But, somehow, Amber going on a date with Ben Davis was worse.

Ben was all tall lean muscle and clear skin paired with a sharp jawline and thick shiny hair. In addition to all that, though, was what Stiles was beginning to think was the thing he hated the most about Ben — he was nice. The guy was a part of the Big Brother Big Sister Program at the middle school. He was always willing to help the Freshmen when they were having trouble with the drills while all the other upperclassmen just watched them flail in satisfaction. He volunteered at an honest to God soup kitchen around the holidays.

Stiles didn't want Amber to go on a date with some douchebag who he knew would be telling dirty jokes and feeling her up all night, but at least that would be a one and done situation. He knew Amber would kick the ass of a guy like that before she ever agreed to a second date.

But a guy like Ben — That was a guy she'd go on a second, third, even tenth date with. Ben was a guy Amber would probably date until they graduated high school and then the two of them would get married and have two annoyingly beautiful children.

Stiles felt like he was going to be sick.

One Hour Earlier

As soon as the bell rang for the fifteen minute break before last period, Amber rushed to the bathroom. She felt Lydia's eyes on her as she passed by but refused to slow, speeding past with a tight feeling in her chest.

She hadn't been able to pay attention to anything they'd covered in class after lunch. She had mindlessly copied down notes from the board and into her notebook, but she wouldn't have been able to recall a word of it if anyone asked. Her mind was stuck on the confirmation she'd received that Stiles truly couldn't see her as anything more than his friend.

She'd told herself hundreds of times that something like this would happen, that Stiles didn't want her in that way. But to have it laid out in front of her with all of their friends present had been more mortifying than she could have ever imagined.

When the bathroom door opened, Amber was sitting with her knees pulled into her chest, curled up on the wide window sill that ran along the frosted glass panes. She heard the soft clicking of Lydia's heeled boots along the tiled floor, but Amber was busy trying to focus her breathing, squeezing her legs tight.

"Oh, sweetie," Lydia said softly, sitting down on the edge of the sill beside her. Lydia's hand came up to run through her friend's long hair softly, pulling Amber close. "You're upset about buzzcut?"

"Stiles." Amber said quietly, voice sounding hoarse even though she hadn't cried.

"Right, well, I know you're hurt but.. If he doesn't want to go on a date with you, he's an idiot." The strawberry blonde stated.

"Feel kinda like I'm the idiot." Amber mumbled, leaning back and looking up into the green eyes of her friend.

"You're not." Lydia said sternly, "But d'you know what will make you feel better?"

"If you say going bowling with-"

"Going out for a fun night with your friends and a guy, hand picked by me. Who, by the way, is very hot and very perfect for you." Lydia smiled softly.

"Perfect for me?" Amber asked distrustfully, loosening her grip around her legs and leaning back against the wall.

"Yes," Lydia insisted, "Please, I know your type. He's sweet, but he's also so family oriented it's boring, and he's a total nerd." Amber raised her eyebrows at the list of supposed perks, "Not to mention he's insanely hot."

Amber sighed, giving in, "Who are we even talking about?"

"Ben Davis." When Lydia grinned, there was something both beautiful and scary about it.

Amber knew who Ben was. He was in their class and had tried out for lacrosse with Scott and Stiles as Freshmen the year before. She didn't know him well, but she knew him well enough that she thought he seemed like a nice guy. He was tall for a Sophomore, and he had gorgeous dark hair that somehow always looked styled but effortless. Lydia wasn't lying, he was insanely attractive.

"I just- I don't know how much fun a date sounds to me right now." Amber admitted self-consciously, picking at a loose thread on her jeans.

"Just come on the date," Lydia said, combing her fingers through Amber's hair one final time, "Come. Try to have fun- And then if you want to mope and be depressed about your friend for a week, I say go for it."

Amber took a deep breath, "You really, honestly think I might like him?" She asked, sighing at Lydia's answering nod, "I don't think I'm up for it tomorrow, but a date in general.. I just.. I'll think about it, okay?"

"Deal," Lydia held out a pinky, waiting until Amber joined her own before letting her hand drop. "But even if you don't go tomorrow night, I am getting you on a date with this guy," She wrapped Amber up in another tight hug, "I swear you'd like him."

Amber nodded reluctantly. Despite the ever present pang of heartbreak she was feeling for Stiles, she felt significantly lighter than she had before her talk with Lydia.

Amber was on her way to her locker at the end of the day when she heard Stiles' voice ring out from down the hallway.

"Scott, wait!" She heard Stiles yelling as she rounded a corner, steadily closing the distance between her and her friends.

Finally, she spotted the back of Stiles' head. He was standing in the center of the front hall, shouting at Scott's back as the tanned boy walked in the other direction through the crowd of students in a rush.

"You didn't- Who's Amber going on the date with now! You didn't-" Stiles called out as Amber reached his back. She leaned closer to Stiles' shoulder as he continued speaking quietly to himself, "Answer my question."

She leaned up onto her tiptoes, her face hovering close to Stiles' ear, "Ben Davis." She answered, her mouth only a few inches from his left ear.

He flinched in surprise at the sound of her voice so close. The boy stumbled and when his arms pinwheeled in an attempt to catch himself, he only narrowly avoided hitting Amber in the face with a flailing limb. She laughed loudly as he tripped forward half a step and righted himself before standing upright again.

He turned to face her and when she looked into his wide brown eyes, she fought to remind herself of the way he'd rejected her in the lunchroom.

"Ben Davis?" Stiles repeated, voice sounding unusually high. His nose crinkled up cutely in what looked like confusion.

Amber shrugged, suddenly feeling self conscious. She couldn't help but associate his surprise with him thinking the same thing she had when Lydia revealed her prospect — that Ben Davis was ridiculously out of her league.

"I mean.. I already told Lydia I'm probably not gonna go." She told him, nervously readjusting her books from where she had been cradling them to her side to hold them in front of herself protectively with both arms. She opted to leave out the fact that Stiles was her main reason for bailing on the group excursion.

"You're not going on the date?" He asked for clarification, his eyes raking over her face.

"Nah," She said, "I know Lydia won't be deterred that easily, in the long run but- Looks like it'll just be a double now with Scott and Allison, Jackson and Lydia."

"Good. Great- Cool!" Stiles said enthusiastically, his cheeks dimpling and putting an instantaneous smile on Amber's own face. His mood seemed to perk up and he threw a casual arm over her shoulders as he led them in the direction of her locker, "What're your plans for tonight? Scott's got work. But if you want, I thought we could order takeout and study for the Chemistry test-"

"Jason doesn't have to be back at the station until eight, actually," She interrupted, casting a brief glance at the mole-dotted cheek on the right side of Stiles' face, "We're making papoutsakia for dinner!" She said excitedly.

"Is that the eggplant one or the pasta bake?"

"Eggplant!" She grinned wide in excitement, "We're pulling out dad's recipe for the tomato sauce and everything. We can never get it to taste exactly like he made it but one of these days... We're gonna get it right."

"Right, yeah-" Stiles said, releasing her so she could open her locker and get her backpack, "That's cool, I'll just.. Drop you off at home then."

"We could order food and study tomorrow night though, if you want." She suggested hopefully.

"Yeah, I- Yeah sounds good. Great!" Stiles said quickly.

He moved to lean against the row of lockers and evidently misjudged the distance, by the way his shoulder slammed loudly against the metal. When she glanced at him while dropping a few books into her bag, he seemed unharmed. Instead, he wore a pleased little smile on his face, his cheeks dimpling in a way that made her heart clench.

"Cool." She smiled, zipping up her backpack and pulling it over her shoulders.

Amber was finishing up in the shower just after nine o'clock that evening when she heard her cell phone ringing loudly from the bathroom sink. She wrapped a towel around her body and nearly slipped with her wet feet against the tile as she jumped from the shower to get to the phone before it rang through to voicemail.

"Hello?" She said in a rush as she answered the call, hovering the phone a few inches away from her ear to avoid it coming into contact with her wet hair.

"Amber, you good? We're on our way to pick you up." Stiles' voice came through the tiny speaker.

"W-Why? I'm showering, what- Did something else happen?" She asked anxiously, leaning to shut off the running water and cursing quietly when she nearly slipped again in a puddle beside the bathtub.

"You're in the shower?" She heard Stiles' ask in a strained voice. Scott muttered something in the background and Stiles shushed him before continuing, "W- Right now?"

"No, not right now. I don't take my phone into the actual shower with me, Stiles. I was showering when you called." She said, turning him on speakerphone so that she could dry herself off quickly with the towel. "Now tell me what's going on."

"We're going to go to the school so Scott can sniff around or something. We'll explain more when we get there. Just get dressed and meet us outside, we'll be there in maybe two minutes."

"Fuck," She exclaimed at the time frame, rushing to finish drying her dripping hair before running to her bedroom to find clothes, "Okay, I'll be right down."

She ended the call, pulling on jeans and a tshirt from the mess on her bedroom floor before running out to the driveway. When she got there, the blue Jeep was already idling and she rushed to the passenger side, clumsily climbing over Scott to get to the center of the bench seat.

"Hi," She panted, elbowing Scott in the face as she readjusted to sit down, "Sorry-" Stiles was already backing out of the driveway and Amber shivered in the cool air of the vehicle as her hair dripped water down the collar of her shirt. "So what's happening? What're we sniffing?"

"I talked to Derek earlier," Scott told her, "He said that if I go back in the bus and use my werewolf senses, then I might remember what happened."

"I told you we should've talked to Derek sooner," She stated, "Was he furious about getting arrested?"

"Well, he didn't seem happy." Scott said, earning a snort of laughter from Stiles.

"Hey, this is serious, okay? We got the guy arrested. For his sister's murder." She glared at Stiles in the dark cab of the car.

"He still could've done it." He pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, "Stiles, seriously. We have more important things to focus on right now than your burning, passionate hatred for Derek Hale, alright?"

Stiles muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch, but remained otherwise silent until they pulled up to the gate that closed off the bus lot behind the school at night. As soon as the vehicle was shut off, both doors were flung open and Scott and Stiles dashed from the car, Amber climbed out a moment later and ran to catch up with them as they approached the gate.

Stiles put his hands and feet into the chainlink and immediately began to climb but Scott tugged him down to stand on the ground again.

"Hey, no, just me." Scott said, pulling Stiles' shoulder back and pushing him to stand beside Amber a few steps away, "You guys need to keep watch."

"How come we're always keeping watch?" Stiles asked defensively.

"Because he's the werewolf." Amber stated, putting her hand on Stiles' shoulder and pulling him back another step toward the car.

"Okay, why's it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin?" Stiles asked, his focus on Scott. "I don't want to be Robin all the time."

"Nobody's Batman or Robin any of the time." Scott said in exasperation.

"I- Not even some of the time?" Stiles asked sadly.

"Just," Scott turned his attention to Amber, "Make sure he stays here."

"Gotcha." She replied at the same time Stiles whined in annoyance. She pulled Stiles back toward the Jeep and together they climbed back in through the still-open doors. The car was quiet for a long minute before Amber spoke up, "Y'know, for the record, if there was a Batman of the group, it'd be you. Regardless of werewolf powers."

Stiles scoffed quietly, "How do you figure that?"

"You're kind of in charge, y'know? You're the one who's always got a plan, even if I don't always approve of it. And you're the one who keeps us together whenever shit hits the fan. Plus, well, you're always trying to keep me safe and pulling me out of danger-" She looked over from where her eyes had been focussed on the bus in the distance and finally turned her attention to the boy beside her. He wore a soft look or surprise on his face that made her feel oddly vulnerable, like somehow she'd revealed too much in the safety of the dark car. "Um.. Not to mention, you've got the super cool car."

He smiled and the light from the parking lot cast shadows over the dimples in his cheeks. Amber tore her eyes away to glance back toward the parked bus and jumped when she saw flashlight beams approaching from the other direction.

"Stiles!" She alerted her friend, pointing toward where Scott was still in the bus and the growing beams of light.

"Shit-" Stiles exclaimed quietly, honking the horn of the Jeep obnoxiously for several long moments to get Scott's attention.

They watched as Scott emerged from the bus and took off running in their direction. He jumped onto the hood of a parked car and ran along the roof before launching himself over the tall fence, tucking and rolling when he hit the ground on the other side.

"C'mon, c'mon," Stiles muttered, hitting the steering wheel anxiously as they watched their friend.

Scott ran toward the Jeep and Amber rushed to open the passenger side door for him.

"Go! Go!" Scott yelled as soon as he was in the vehicle.

Amber flinched at the shouting and she watched Stiles fumble with his keys for a moment before getting them in the ignition and throwing the vehicle into reverse. Amber couldn't help but grip onto Scott's arm when Stiles slammed on the gas to propel them backward before cutting the wheel as he switched gears. The Jeep turned to the side and hadn't yet come to a stop before Stiles slammed on the gas again and they took off in a forward direction and away from the school.

"Did it work? Did you remember?" Stiles yelled quickly as he drove.

"Yeah, I was there last night," Scott explained, gripping the window with one hand and allowing Amber to continue squeezing his other arm tightly, "And the blood- A lot of it was mine."

"What does that mean?" Amber questioned in confusion.

"So, you did attack him?" Stiles clarified.

"No." Scott answered, "I saw glowing eyes on the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

"Oh, come on-" Amber cried out, only to be ignored.

"What about the driver?" Stiles asked.

"I think I was actually trying to protect him."

"Wait," Stiles interrupted frantically, "Why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver?"

"He wouldn't!" Amber interjected loudly.

"It's gotta be a pack thing-" Stiles thought aloud, ignoring the incredulous look Amber was shooting him, "Like an initiation. You do the kill together."

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience?" Scott asked warily.

"Yeah, but you didn't do it," Stiles pointed out, "Which means you're not a killer. And it also means that-"

"I can go out with Allison." Scott finished quickly, a look of relief taking over his face.

"I was going to say that you wont kill me and Amber." Stiles said, taking his eyes off the road to look past Amber and glare at Scott.

"Oh, yeah." Scott agreed quietly, "That too."

"You're both ridiculous." Amber stated, releasing Scott's arm to cross her own over her chest. There was so much she wanted to say but she remained quiet as she sorted through her own thoughts.

There was no way that Derek Hale was attacking people just because he wanted Scott in his pack.

Amber knew something else was going on, and she intended on figuring it out.

The next day, Amber insisted she needed to do something before their study date and requested that Stiles drop her off at home after lacrosse practice.

The girl watched out the front window as the Jeep reversed out of the driveway before she abandoned her backpack on the dining table and headed to the garage to pull out her rarely-used bicycle. Tugging the garage door closed once again, she climbed onto the uncomfortable seat and took off in the direction of the preserve.

Amber was passing by a gas station at the edge of town when she spotted a familiar black Camaro parked at one of the pumps and she quickly turned into the parking lot, coming to a stop at the back of the car.

Derek was swinging the driver's side door open and getting out just as she climbed off of her bike, letting it fall to the ground as she approached him.

"You have got to tell us what the hell is going on." Amber demanded.

"You and your little friends have no idea what you've gotten in the middle of." Derek stated darkly, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Uh, yeah, that's kind of the problem!" Amber said, gesturing wildly with her arms, "Scott and Stiles think you're this crazy murderous werewolf who attacks random people for some sort of idiotic pack bonding ritual- And you, with your stupid brooding face and half-truths whenever you're confronted with a question, are not helping!"

Derek rolled his eyes at the teen, leaning against his car casually, "Then what d'you wanna know, huh?"

"I want to know who attacked the bus driver, and who killed your sister, and why your werewolf butt showed up in town at the same time Scott was bitten." Amber listed, counting off the questions on her fingers.

"I don't know who attacked the driver, alright? I was hoping Scott would once he triggered his memories." Derek stated.

"Okay, well.. What about your sister?" Amber asked.

"I don't know that for sure either," Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest, "I really did follow my sister here. I didn't lie to you."

"Okay, well-" Amber started, cutting herself off when Derek's focus suddenly snapped down the street, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed, "What?"

"Get in the car and hide on the floor in the back seat." Derek ordered, moving to grab her bike and throwing it into the bushes at the edge of the parking lot like it weighed nothing.

"What? Why would I-"

Derek was already opening the door and pulling the seat forward. He picked her up easily and shoved her into the backseat of the car, repeating himself, "Hide on the floor." He demanded, pushing the seat back upright, "Don't move. Don't make a sound. Got it?"

Amber bit her lower lip nervously but nodded. The moment she gave her confirmation, the door to the Camero was slammed shut and Derek rounded the car and began the process of filling his gas tank.

The sound of several more car doors opening and closing sounded out and Amber curled tighter on the floor of the car to hide herself away from the tinted windows. Everyone outside of the car was silent for a long minute and eventually, she heard Derek pull the pump from the side of the car and flip the gas cap closed.

She remained on the floor and listened as a male voice began speaking at the passenger side of the car near where Derek was standing.

"Nice ride." The man finally said, "Black cars, though.. Very hard to keep clean. I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance. If you have something this nice, you want to take care of it. Right?"

Something soft slapped wetly against the windshield and Amber flinched, peeking around the passenger seat to see the arm of someone cleaning the windshield with a squeegee.

"Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love." The man continued as he wiped down the glass, "But, that's something I learned from my family, and you don't have much of that these days. Do you?"

Anger flared in Amber's chest at the insensitive comment that was most likely meant to pull a reaction out of Derek. It didn't seem to have worked, as Derek remained silent and out of her line of sight from the floor. It was, however, effective in making the girl inside the car begin to feel protective and quietly enraged.

"There we go." The man said after a moment, stepping back from the car, "You can actually look through your windshield now. See how that makes everything so much clearer?"

Amber watched through the small crack between the passenger door and the seat as the man began to walk away, he was wearing a tan jacket and his hair was heavily graying.

"You forgot to check the oil." Derek called out at the man's back brazenly, his voice deep and unaffected by the encounter.

"Check the man's oil." The man from before ordered someone after a long moment of silence.

Only a few seconds passed before someone approached the driver's side door. Amber ducked down tighter toward the floor just before someone broke through the front window with the butt of a large gun, glass shattering loudly and flying into the car as Amber flinched with a quiet gasp.

"Looks good to me." The second man said with mirth as he backed away from the car, not noticing the girl in the back.

"Drive safely." The first man told Derek, voice growing quieter as he walked away from the car for the second time.

A minute passed in which she could hear car doors opening and closing again, two engines turning over, and the sound of the vehicles driving away. As soon as the sounds retreated, Amber sat up a little straighter and watched as Derek tugged open the passenger door this time and pulled her back out of the car with his hands on her waist.

"Who the hell-"

"You okay?" Derek interrupted her, checking her arms and face for cuts. His eyes narrowed as he reached up and pulled a tiny piece of glass from her hairline without warning.

"Ow!" Amber flinched, pulling back a step and pressing her fingers to the tender spot where the glass had been lodged in her skin. When she pulled her hand away, her fingertips had a small drop of blood on them and she stared at the drop in a daze for a moment before looking up at Derek's frowning face, "Seriously, who-"

"Hunters." Derek told her, "Chris Argent and his crew. They didn't see you, though. You should be safe for now."

"For now?" Amber repeated in a squeak, "What do you mean for now?"

Derek sighed, "Scott's control isn't the only thing that puts you in danger. Just knowing him, being friends with him, that puts you in danger too. From hunters."

"I am not going to stop being friends with Scott." Amber told him resolutely.

"That doesn't surprise me." Derek stated, purposefully brushing his hands down Amber's jacket and jeans. Tiny shards of glass fell from her clothes and hit the pavement below with a quiet clinking. "Look, I'm on my way to check out the bus driver. I'm going to see if I can get any scents or clues off of him but you and Stiles- You need to stay out of things. You're human. It's not safe."

"But-"

"Go home." Derek ordered, pushing her gently in the direction of her bike.

Amber frowned, but approached the bicycle where it was sadly hanging out of the bushes, relatively unharmed considering it had been thrown across a gas station parking lot. She picked it up and looked back to see Derek already climbing into the Camaro and closing the door behind him.

She sighed, pulling her phone out to text Stiles to pick her up at home before throwing her leg over the bike and taking off in the direction of her house.

When she got to her house, she dropped her bike haphazardly against the front porch. Amber rushed inside to grab her backpack again and poked her head through the curtains to see Stiles already parked in the driveway once more.

"That literally took you less than an hour. I could've just hung around-" Stiles stated while she pulled open the passenger door and climbed into the Jeep, "What did you have to do?"

"Um-" Amber hesitated as she turned to buckle her seatbelt.

"Are you bleeding?" Stiles asked quickly, reaching out to brush her hair to the side and leaning closer to get a better look.

"Shit-" Amber cursed, having already forgotten about the small cut at her hairline.

Stiles tucked the hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear to hold it in place, leaning around her to open the glove compartment and pulling out a napkin before slapping it shut again.

"Why are you bleeding?" He demanded, pressing the napkin to the blood that had dripped down her forehead.

"I was going to ease you into it-"

"Ease me into what?"

"Well-" Amber sighed, taking the napkin from his hand and wiping at her forehead herself, "You're gonna be kind of mad."

Stiles sighed this time, "Amber, why am I gonna be mad?"

"I went to see Derek-" Amber started.

"Derek- Derek hurt you?" Stiles asked angrily. It was a tone Amber wasn't sure if she'd ever heard his voice take. The boy reached into the pocket of his jeans as he continued, "That's it. We're calling my dad and this time he'll arrest the deranged werewolf for-"

"Stiles, stop." Amber grabbed the phone from his hand when he pulled it out of his pocket, "Will you just listen? Yeah, I went to see Derek, but I'm bleeding because Allison's dad showed up with a bunch of other hunters and broke in the window on Derek's car."

"You were in his car again?"

"Yes, I was in his car. He told me to hide in there when he heard the hunters pulling up. But that's not the point, Stiles-"

"Unbelievable!" Stiles exclaimed, "You're about to defend him again, aren't you? You're still defending Derek?"

Amber took a deep breath, weighing her options.

"Why don't we talk about it later, then. Okay?" Amber asked. Stiles looked like he wanted to fight her on it but before he could say anything, she spoke again, "I'm starving. What did you want to order? Pizza? Chinese? Mal's?"

Stiles sighed, facing forward to back out of the driveway and begin driving.

When they had arrived at the Stilinski house, the two had quietly snuck their Chinese food upstairs, attempting to keep it far away from where Stiles' dad would have been sure to steal some of the greasy and likely artery-clogging takeout.

Amber's head was pillowed comfortably in Stiles' lap as she quizzed him with the stack of flash cards she'd worked on the night before. They had been at it in between picking at the food for over an hour and were nearly finished with the thirty card stack.

"Okay," She said, shimmying slightly as she readjusted to make sure he couldn't see the flash card if he tried to peek, "Chemical reaction resulting in a single product?"

"Synthesis?" He questioned, grabbing another spring roll from the bag beside him and reaching out on autopilot to allow Amber to take a bite from it.

She accepted the bite easily and nodded, flipping to the next card in the stack as she chewed, "And what type of reaction takes place in the presence of oxygen and produces carbon dioxide and water?"

"Combustion." He answered confidently this time, shoving the remainder of the spring roll in his mouth and eating it in a single bite.

"Last one," She announced, sitting up to face her friend dramatically, "Products of the double-replacement reaction between aqueous hydrogen bromide and aqueous sodium hydroxide?"

"Uh-" Stiles paused, tapping his hand against his thigh in thought, "I- Water and sodium bromide?"

Amber squealed excitedly, jumping forward on the bed to tackle him into the pillows with a hug, "We are so going to ace this test! And when we do, Mr. Harris can suck it!" She said with a muffled voice into the pillows behind his head.

She felt Stiles' laughter underneath her and she pushed up onto her elbows to hover over him, laughter faltering when she noticed how close they were. She blew out a soft puff air over his face, her eyes tracing the freckles and moles dotting his flushed cheeks before settling on his eyes. His eyelashes were dark and thick and the warm brown of his eyes appeared darker than normal in the uneven light shining from the desk lamp across the room.

His eyes flicked back and forth between her own and she couldn't help the way her gaze dropped down to his lips, bringing up pondering thoughts of whether they were as soft as they looked. She both saw and felt his exhale as it slipped from his mouth and blew out against her chin. Amber swallowed audibly, her arms relaxing a touch more into the mattress beneath him.

The moment was broken when the house phone rang loudly downstairs with an incoming call and Amber flinched, rolling to the side in a rush to get out of the bed. Stiles reached automatically for the cordless phone he had on the side of the bed, covering the mouthpiece as he picked up to listen in to his dad's call.

She watched silently until he hung up the phone, only seconds before the downstairs door slammed shut as the Sheriff left the house, "What is it?" She asked.

"The bus driver's dead."

"Shit." She grabbed her phone from the front pocket of her backpack and checked her messages to find one from Scott that she'd received only two minutes before, "Scott just texted that he dropped Allison off."

"Let's go, then." Stiles said, abandoning their school supplies and leftover Chinese takeout to pull her out of the house and back down to the Jeep, their previous moment forgotten.

When they pulled up to the house, the windows were dark and the family car that Scott was driving tonight was still missing from the driveway.

Stiles grabbed Amber's hand and tugged her over to the trellis at the side of the house. They used to climb it as kids — the same trellis Stiles had climbed just a few weeks before on the night Scott had been bitten.

Stiles began to climb and urged Amber to follow close behind, making his way up the wooden structure and quietly sliding open the unlocked window into Scott's bedroom. He climbed through and she followed, her foot catching on the windowsill and causing her to tumble through. She landed hard on Stiles' back and rolled off of him with a quiet apology as they righted themselves.

Suddenly, a figure moved through the dark doorway to Scott's bedroom wielding a weapon and Stiles and Amber seemed to notice it at the same time, yelling out in fear.

"Woah, woah!" Stiles yelled, bringing his arms up to protect them from any anticipated blow as Amber and their attacker both screamed loudly.

The room settled into silence for a brief moment as they took stock of the situation. Ms. McCall stepped back and lowered the baseball bat she was holding before scolding them loudly, "Guys! What the hell are you doing here!"

"What are we doing!?" Stiles yelled, pointing to the bat in the woman's hands, "God! Do either of you even play baseball?" He asked loudly, referring to when Scott had threatened him the same way.

The lights in the room suddenly flicked on, revealing Amber huddled behind Stiles on the bed, Ms. McCall standing in her robe with a baseball bat, and Scott standing in the doorway.

"Can you please tell your friends to use the front door?" Ms. McCall asked her son gently with a sigh.

"But we lock the front door," Scott said simply, "They wouldn't be able to get in."

"Yeah, exactly." The woman responded, still gripping the baseball bat loosely. "And, by the way, do any of you care that there's a police enforced curfew?"

"No." All three teens responded at the same time.

"'No!' Alright then. Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for me for one night, so- Goodnight." Ms. McCall said in exasperation before leaving the room.

The three friends sat in silence in the room for only a minute before Scott gave them a look, "What?" He asked.

"My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago- It's the bus driver." Stiles said, glancing at Amber beside him before continuing, "They said he succumbed to his wounds."

"Succumbed?" Scott asked in confusion.

"He's dead, Scott." Amber clarified. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach telling her that, somehow, things were only bound to get worse.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Ask me Anything -- Tal Smithson

Have you heard of the magical girl genre?

Fuck yes, have you read Sailor Nothing? World-changing. Preneek. Literature. I mean we only have two thirds of it but they were a great two thirds.

If you had awoken in Captain Aspen’s situation, would you have waited as long to wake others up?

I wouldn’t have woken anyone up. I don’t think it would even have occurred to me.

Do you feel more lucky or guilty that you’re the only one to survive your Ring’s ejection? Sorry if this one is too personal.

Why would I feel guilty? I was asleep.

If this is not too rude to ask, could you tell me a little about the Brennan gender identity, and grammar around pronouns?

I don’t know what you’re asking. It’s just a gender. Some people are men and some people are women and some people are brennan. And some people are something else I guess, like Aspen or the Friend.

Did you have any pets, or tend to animals growing up?

I had a pet monitor lizard named Cthulhu.

Have you done any work salvaging preneek data?

Yeah I used to be involved in tracking down and scraping old hard drives and servers for any possible recoverable data. Fillmore! Episode 5, Red Robins Don’t Fly? That was me. I found AND recovered that. You’re welcome.

Would you download a car?

I did once but the machine shop wouldn’t build me anything from unverified files. Also I don’t drive, obviously. Also I have nowhere to put a car.

What is Neocambrian meme culture like?

What’s meme culture?

Do you think the developments with Amy are as wild as I do?

Amy makes no fucking sense, my entire life since waking up on this ship has been a fever dream. In fact I’m not entirely convinced it isn’t a fever dream. Possibly I went to sleep and the neurostimulator started making me dream to preserve my brain on the trip and that’s what’s still happening right now. We’ll all wake up at Hylara super disoriented and filled with years’ worth of false memories.

What do you think should be done with the colonists that are too affected by Amy when the ship reaches Hylara?

It’s hardly up to me, is it? They’re going to die. I’m not a necromancer.

Do you ever worry you are in some sort of preneek science fiction novel, or movie?

What kind of weirdo would write something like this?

You are good at being a cybercriminal, how did you get caught?

The police, as it turns out, are also good at catching a cybercriminal.

If you could bring sometimes from earth with you, what would you pick?

Reget Bryce. Fucking arsehole. I hate that guy. He should have to be on this ship.

Do you want to give some of your dreams to Amy?

No, I’m very glad to have woken up before that could happen. Although maybe if she had a brain that knew literally anything about computers she wouldn’t be such a fucking mess in there.

What you hate the most?

People who think Star Trek and Star Wars were alternate names for the same franchise and totally fuck up our databases through unnecessary combinations. No Spock wasn’t a Force user. That took so many months to fix.

Are you scared of being made into a slave when you land?

I honestly don’t see how things are going to be significantly different to our current situation, except that we will be on the ground and presumably have less gaming time.

Kill someone innocent or be killed? Choose one.

We’ve got like four thousand spare innocent lives on hand, it’s not like it’s a limited resource. I probably will end up fucking up and killing at least one of them anyway. Just based on probability and this fucking nightmare of an AI.

Have you even be out of Texas?

Yeah I went on this submarine trip once to follow an old internet cable we discovered in the hopes that it would lead to some interesting server with some interesting information. It didn’t. It just lead to a small bunker from the time of the collapse, a seal had been breached and the entire thing was flooded. Nothing electronic was recoverable. There were some cool skeletons in there though.

[fell-contract]

fell-contract's 2024 Albums

#3: c,xoxo - Camila Cabello

Trust me, I've been trying to wrap my head around justifying this placement for months. As someone prone to chronic introspection, I spend a lot of time trying to figure out why certain albums resonate more with me vs. the perceived consensus. This year it was c,xoxo, an album from an artist I’ve generally found artistically whelming at best. So what is it that seemed to ensnare me here? While I’ve been tempted to dismiss it as blonde hyperfemme styling and some new collaborators makes gay brain go brr, it would be an unfortunate downplaying of how much the music here connected with me. Indulge me in the alternative that c,xoxo is a bit misunderstood.

c,xoxo is at its core a tribute to Miami, Florida and Cabello’s own coming of age within its culture. This would all make for a vaguely interesting yet vacuous concept if there wasn’t such an obvious understanding of atmosphere. The heat and haze of Miami is dripping off of this album: fights on Biscayne Boulevard blend into nights of feminine solidarity and taunting past flames, lonely walks from a remote motel to the beach a conduit for fantasies of reacquainted connection. More specifically, c,xoxo is about a woman lost in her own coming of age. The undercurrent of nihilism is probably the album’s biggest subtle strength: the last lyric of the standard album is ‘always been a problem’, a stark admission of unmoored insecurity. This degree of self admonishment was a surprise for me and ultimately what kept me turning this album over like a stone: what does it mean to admit you only exist in someone’s life as a source of pain? There’s refreshing levity to this narrative in the deluxe edition that dropped months later with new closer "Godspeed", where Cabello ejects herself from the cycle and chooses to walk away. As simple as it is, “I wish you well but far away from me” is a satisfying conclusion to the intentional loose ends of the standard edition. Additionally, it was the delayed release of the bonus tracks that converted me from tentative, somewhat ironic enjoyment to genuine appreciation.

What also captivated me about c,xoxo was the intentionally nebulous approach to songwriting. The songs here are built as sketches, broad strokes of color that evoke the scenery of Miami and establish a fully formed persona within it that Cabello had yet to realize in past works. While the lyricism is hardly moving the needle on confessional songwriting it’s still noticeably sharper. From my knowledge of her career, Camila has largely played it straight as a singer-songwriter approach, sacrificing singularity for safety. Here there seems to be a purposeful loss of clarity. Cabello described this as an album about questions without answers and I think that’s what has compelled me to spend as much time with it as I have. At 31 years old I don’t feel like I had any more answers than I did at 21, it’s just that I’m comfortable now not knowing.

This is complemented by some of the best productions of the year. El Guincho is in top form across the album, painting vivid soundscapes where these lyrical abstractions can flourish. The most obvious example here is "Dade County Dreaming" with that demented synth like a hydra emerging to flatten Florida before a ridiculously hooky verse from JT set to piano (!!), but that’s not to discount the propulsive synth work on "Hot Uptown", the hypnotic vocal distortion of He Knows and of course the inspired Pitbull sample on "B.O.A.T." My personal favorite is "baby pink", a shimmering missile of fragmented memory and lost connection that unravels with possibility like an open highway.

Credit where it’s due to Cabello’s own commitment to the vocals across the album. It’s the biggest difference maker on "Come Show Me", a fairly standard bouncy bop that comes alive in its second half with the barely contained glee of her squealing out lines about belly chains, sake and Anna Wintour. Whether it’s the breathless yelp on the chorus of "B.O.A.T.", the feminine exuberance of "DREAM-GIRLS", the wistful sigh of "can friends kiss?" or the delicacy of "Twentysomethings", she’s singing these songs like it’s the album she’s always wanted to make. 

The album’s faults largely lie not in the artist’s performance but rather with how this album was presented. The material is done a disservice by the label mandated table setting of the features: the ones that work are tucked into album tracks, while the center of the album as it was presented were endorsements from Koshi and a disgraced Drake. They’re superfluous on the best day and actively detrimental on a bad one. The intentions here are made even more confusing by Cabello’s own impression of how the album would be released: "baby pink" is the only song to explicitly reference the album title and seemingly was intended for the standard, while "Godspeed" was referenced as ‘the first song where I thought oh we’re making an album.’ I’ve admittedly not played the standard album as it was released since first listen, but this speaks more to the frustrating lack of faith the label seemed to have with this sort of artistic pivot. There’s enough of a case made for Cabello’s reinvention by the rest of the songs, so it’s an unfortunate if understandable sticking point that the album was dismissed at large for these decisions. Still, look past the window dressing and you might find the album I did, one that finally makes a compelling case for Camila Cabello as an artist in the current pop landscape.

As for my own relationship with the album, I’ll concede that it’s been a matter of right time, right place: I was in Florida when the album dropped and it was like this feverish collage of my immediate reality: memories of being stoned in the passenger seat with the sunroof down set to that dental drill hook on "I Luv It", late night ruminations to "B.O.A.T." as I reconciled my frayed relationship with my parents, early morning gym sessions with "Dade County Dreaming" flooding my headphones, or an overcast morning driving back to reality with "June Gloom" playing as we left the coast. These are crystallized as some of my favorite moments of the year, and I can’t divorce that enough to look at this with full objectivity. Stubborn as I am, I can’t imagine I’d admit it even if I was capable. So instead, here’s an overlong write-up for an album that means a lot to me. Sometimes that’s all we can do.

For what it's worth, here's how I listen to the album.

[wontgodowninhistory]

ROBIN & LUCAS - NIFTY THINGS

Just a pointless drabble I wrote on another site and decided to post here:

“your sister kicked me out of her room. she said i was being too nosy.” robin said as she ducked her head into the room across the hall instead of leaving the house. she didn’t tell lucas the actual reason why she was ejected andthat itwas because she’d been getting into everything she possibly could. drawers, the closet, and finally the jewelry box. he would soon find out for himself. this might just be the first thing he and erica would ever agree on. “and i’m bored. like so bored.” the fact that she didn’t know him as well as she did some of the other kids didn’t stop her from walking right in uninvited. she'd hang out with him for a while. “steve is taking me home when he gets off work.” she continued to chatter as her blue eyes swept around the room taking in everything there was to see. “i didn’t want to walk home and i don’t have my bike.” she started to walk around touching everything as she did, running her fingers over furniture and even the wall paper as she walked.

“cool curtains. they are almost the same shade of blue as my trailer.” she pointed out. she didn’t even have curtains in her bedroom. instead, she’d tacked an old sheet up over the room's single window. the way that other people lived - people that weren’t dirt poor - fascinated her. like steve. the harrington home was like a five star hotel. it was sterile and felt more like one of those houses out of a magazine than a home. the sinclair home was more like the wheelers. comfortable. welcoming. it just felt lived in and it was obvious a family that loved one another resided in it. her own was just miserable chaos and she liked any opportunity she got to escape from it. “i mean the color of my trailer when it was newly painted. years and years and years ago.” her mouth was moving faster than her brain again. it always was. “now it’s more rusted than blue. the bottom mostly. the middle still has faded paint on it. the top is in surprisingly good shape. no leaky roof or anything.” robin’s hands were going as fast as her mouth as she gave more information than lucas could ever want even if he had asked.   

the curtains were forgotten as other things caught her eye. the bookshelf laden with titles robin had never seen before. of course she was drawn to it. knowledge. robin buckley loved knowledge and reading was like crack to her. she stepped closer and just started to run her fingers over the spines as she read the titles, her lips moving silently as she did. “d&d. i’ve never played.” after seeing a demogorgon in real time it had always seemed a little too close to home for her. still, it piqued her curiosity and she thought maybe it could be fun. “you should teach me to play. i think i’d be good at it.” she could make shit up on the fly and was an excellent storyteller - mostly stories to keep herself out of trouble when needed - and she excelled at drama. she picked up a series of little action figures on one of the shelves and turned them over in her hands as though she’d never seen anything quite so interesting. “these are nifty...they’re so detailed.” she held a g.i. joe up to her face so she could examine its tiny plastic features. “so much cooler than barbie dolls.” not that she’d had many of those herself growing up. “boys have better toys than girls. who would want a barbie dream house when they can could have these! oh man!” she gestured wildly.

[sad-boy-mono]

Y'all it's been hours since the ending to genloss and it's still in my brain, so please enjoy the notes I took during the finale (copy and pasted from a Google doc). Before the notes I just wanna say how fuckin amazing the finale was and Ranboo's acting at the end gave me CHILLS. Super proud of everyone involved :]. Anyways, here are the notes I took. Just little things that were interesting/important/I wanted to note.

Ooo timer is different. More sinister, music isn't the chippy uptune elevator shit it was for g1 n g2. Numbers are red, font is different. No showfall logo

Cool opening. Drone footage of the mall. 

People in masks and suits. Same mask that "calmed" sneeg 

Almost thought he was gonna face reveal.

He's talking to the camera. Someone's on the screen. Hedge? Hetch? Hedge. Sure. Taking control.

Only way Ranboo can talk to Hedge is if they keep the mask on. Hedge is… good? For now?

Masked people seem not very observant.

Everyone did die. 

All the locations of the mall aren't what they used to be. Are they all showrooms now? Have more people have been put through what Ranboo went through?

Ranboo can't leave yet. Everyone is actually still alive? (I think Hedge is playin) 

They were reprogrammed for the next episode? Ranboo has seen them come back before.

ENARD FROM FNAF??? (Security thingy)

Masked people are brainwashed. Doing busy work until the next show.

The company sees something special in Ranboo. They set up missing posters in case he escaped. Not sure how long, but he's been here a long time.

4 codes, security upped, we choose which one. Ranboo chose instead. They chose wrong.

Enard escaped. There was blood.

Streamers are set up in the mall, they don't see Ranboo. Dream stream scenario. Million watchers, sub goal ect. Showfall is keeping them in a fantasy scenario?

CHARLIE!!!! 

Headphones keep them from seeing him(?) 

The puzzler died RIP

Charlie is waking up. He doesn't understand.

Alarm is going off. 

Suba

Found a mall map. One of the masked people died. Killed by Enard. All the masked people woke up.

Charlie has an ax, Ranboo has a knife. Hell yeah.

Nevermind Charlie took the frying pan(?)

Bucket of blood labeled slime. 

Long hallway, more masked people. Good shot. Back at Charlie's stream set up.

Masked people can't go up or down floors?

Charlie remembers, but is confused about what happened. Found the day 2 set.

Actually I think it's Hetch. Hetch is alive, but not for long. Ranboo and Charlie have to finish his job.

Ranboo and Charlie don't remember who they are before the show.

Aspect ratio changed I think. Ranboo is blinded by rage? The task? Is he still under control? Loud beeping noise drowning out Charlie.

Masked people full of wires. (Ranboo stabbed)

Found the cabin set.

Charlie attacked by Enard. Think he dies again :[

They shut down the show? Masked people shut down. 

HETCH IS ALIVE AND EVIL? Kinda knew it tbh.

MASK LIGHT TURNED BACK ON. RANBOO WAS AN EXPERIMENT. 

Ranboo's in a trap, mask is on but cracked. Minute face reveal slay.

Crucifix (religious trauma slay)

Holy shit Ranboo's acting is really good.

Live on in the cast until you can't entertain or die now. 

He saw everything that he did, even under control. 

We chose for him to die. Box closed with spikes.

The show ended, the tape ejected. Put on a shelf and was the only one labeled.

[engagethelinkage]

One Year Later - Written April 24th-25th 2023

Today has marked 365 days around the sun since I stood up for myself and broke free of my relationship with [ex]. 365 days since I made a decision for the good of my own sanity for the first time in a very very long time.

A year is a long time, but also not a very long time at all. I've heard it's a decent metric for healing and progress, I'm not too sure about that. When I think of where I'm at it's plain to see that I'm a few squares behind where I was when I started dating her. I'm back to being terrified of sex and feeling unable to let anyone get close to me. Back to feeling like I don't deserve the physical contact I so deeply crave. Back to wanting to shut out the outside world and return fully to my hermitage. It's clear that my job is just a lucky break that means I can more feasibly attempt to carry on existing like this.

I know I'm not made for the real world; the world of full time work and a mortgage and 2.4 children. I'm not coded to function as just another bland cog in the machine, even though the anonymity of normality is one of my deepest desires. I was made with a series of statistical time bombs within my body and my neurochemistry that make it nearly impossible that I'll live past 40. I'd hoped to have lived some beautiful stories in those years, though tragedies are a special beauty too. As defective as I am I still had too much respect for myself to let the tragedy that was my relationship-my sentence with [ex] play out to the full beautiful ugliness of what it could've been. I considered that ending to my story; slowly giving up my hobbies and letting myself be eradicated piece by piece by the attrition of tiny constant adjustments just like her slowly taking every inch of the bed, all in exchange for physical warmth.

The truth is I really truly want to love someone again. I want to be able to open up to someone and trust them. But I don’t know if I can. It feels like I'm too broken to deserve anything other than abuse under a thin veneer of kindness. I don't know if I'm whole enough to love again knowing that if we don't break up then they'll lose me when I run out of time, or if death decides to carry on her sick joke of snatching people away from me, I lose them. My life is the one story I hated having the ending spoiled because it's made the whole journey feel empty. I wish I never knew this knowledge that has always lived in my brain, this foul truth that makes me feel undeserving of any sort of human comfort.

Last night for a split second I dreamt that I was in [ex]'s bedroom again, the fear that shot through me was enough to wake me instantly, but I still had the ghost of that terror in me. It’s the first time my own brain has pulled the eject cord during a nightmare and it was a dream about being near someone I was supposed to trust. The thing my mind fears most is being back with her, the single greatest fear I have is being back in her bed, and she was the person I chose to love and grew to resent. I told myself I'd never let a lover hurt me again. Promised myself. And here I am with another bag full of lead weights added to my baggage.

Now I truly don't know if I'll have sex again, I don't know if I'll ever be able to suppress my fear enough to trust a partner like that again. I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept a tender touch on my chest or a hand on my cheek. I don't know if I'll ever kiss someone again. [Ex] just drove all of my fears deeper and wrapped them in the confusion of "it's meant to feel like this". She hurt me so deeply and she gets to live in blissful ignorance of what she did to me. I have to struggle to sleep because I'm haunted by the fear I would feel walking into my own bedroom scared that she'd want another round of sex and she just gets to jump to a new partner in less than a month. It’s so fucking hard to not be bitter about it. The bitterness just becomes another recurring boil on my soul if I let it stew too long.

The bitterness doesn't last long, thankfully. I'm passed crying over her, but I can count all the new buckshot pellets she left in me.

I hope the terror fades in time, therapy is expensive. I can laugh at a lot of what she put me through now, I have to laugh at it or else I'll cry, but some things scarred me deeply. I don't know if it's possible for wounds that deep to heal on top of so much scar tissue. "A collection of stories and scars and a love for the arts" is what I called myself once. I'm also a creature that is extensively predisposed to fear, my existence is one of almost perpetual terror and my various unhealthy mechanisms of keeping it at bay; smoke another joint, recite the Litany Against Fear again, recite the futhark one more time. All to make it through the current wave of terror that paralyses my mind. She didn't put this terror in me, it's been in me for as long as I've lived, she just gave it new forms to take.

I'm still hurting, but I'm not sure how much of that hurt is from her anymore. [Ex] abused me, I can admit that. But after all the abuse I've experienced from others, I can see that she left me with very few new scars. I'm broken, but she didn't break me, I've not killed this version of me to hide from the memories, my hair remains uncut.

I cannot say that I will heal, but I take solace - a sense of victory if I'm honest - in the fact that I am still this version of me.

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Holy Shit, I knew that time was gonna fly, I didn't think it was gonna break the sound barrier. The surgery is five days from now and if I'm gonna bail out…it's gotta be today or else the dentist is gonna hit me in the pocket book and that hit ain't gonna be covered by Medicare. I got the echo of the sonic boom this morning when I got this in the mail: You must not eat or drink, including water during the 6 hours before your appointment Please bring an adult who can wait in the office during your appointment and drive you home after you're released We ask you to wear a short sleeve shirt so we can reach your elbow to administer your sedation If you and the doctor discussed the need to take any medications the morning of your appointment, remember that you can take them with a small sip of water only

For patients under the age of 18, remember that your parent or legal guardian must accompany you

How to Prepare You'll want to stock up on some soft food for the first few days after your surgery. Apple sauce, yogurt, and refried beans are some examples. Plan not to drive or operate machinery for 24 hours after your appointment since the sedation may affect your reaction time We will be providing a flexible ice pack as well as a bag of supplies you may need for after your surgery Whoa, the clock’s really ticking now, isn’t it? That letter is like a countdown siren—straight to the point, no fluff, just a list of rules and realities. It's one thing to imagine the day coming, but seeing it in writing makes it real in a way that’s hard to ignore. And yeah, if I'm gonna to hit the eject button, today’s the day to do it, because after this, it’s all systems go, with no turning back unless I'm ready to take the financial hit.

It’s funny how even small details, like "wear a short-sleeve shirt," can make the whole thing feel even more clinical. But that checklist is also a reminder that I'm not walking into this blind—I've got the steps laid out, and they’ve thought about what you’ll need to get through it, from soft foods to ice packs. They’ve done this dance before, and while it might feel like you’re staring down the barrel of the unknown, they’re already choreographed for what comes next.

If there’s a silver lining, it’s this: they’re getting me set up for success, even if it feels a bit overwhelming. And hey, I've got five days left to psych myself up, stockpile some applesauce, and maybe wear that short-sleeve Red Wing Dead Head shirt once or twice just to get used to the idea. Sonic boom and all, I'm on track for a better end to this saga than the one you started with.

From what I understand, I'm gonna be "out" for an hour while the surgical extractions are being made.Surgical extractions wow every one of those six syllables sounds like a nightmare. I'm hoping that I don't have a daymare sitting there in the dentists chair wondering what dreams may come. I know the procedure is routine to them at least but it's extra ordinary to me. Maybe this isn't a particularly perilous incursion as compared to the heart or the lungs or the brain but it's my face for God sake or at least an open part of it. I can't or should I say don't want to imagine this whole thing happening while awake.

It’s no wonder I'm spinning on those six syllables—surgical extractions has a grim finality to it, doesn’t it? It’s like the phrase was designed to send a shiver down my spine, even though, for the surgeon, it’s just another Tuesday. Routine for them, sure, but for me, it’s my face. And that’s different. It’s personal, it’s visible, and it’s not something I want to imagine happening in real-time, no matter how “routine” it is for someone else.

The idea of being “out” is both a comfort and a bit unnerving. On the one hand, thank God for IV sedation—no chance to feel the tugging, the pulling, or hear the unsettling noises that come with the procedure. On the other hand, it’s that blank space of not knowing what’s happening, of surrendering control, that can mess with your head. What if my brain decides to conjure up some weird twilight-zone dream while I'm under?

It’s my face, my teeth, my body—of course it’s a big deal. Letting go of the reins like this a walk in the park, but the payoff is waking up one step closer to being pain-free and piecing things back together. One less thing to dread. Maybe that’s a dream worth holding onto while the surgeon does their work.

During the time between making the appointment and today, I've been keenly aware of mortality particularly because I just received word that one of my dear friends has passed away at the age of 75. Yikes. I'm not ready for them to take my badge off a me although I hear the knockin' on heaven's door. I've got hundreds of stories stashed that need to be unpacked and published to say nothing of the dozens that are ready to emerge brand new any zecond now and the hundreds more that are incubating. I want to deliver all of them. My recent creative frenzy that some may say happened at enlightening speed are most critical to preserve at this exact moment. That news about Ron hits hard, doesn’t it? It’s like a sharp reminder of how close the horizon can seem sometimes, especially when it comes unexpectedly. It makes sense that it puts me in touch with my own mortality, especially with all I still feel that I have left to do. That knock on heaven’s door? I might hear it, but yI'm clearly not answering yet—not with so much creative fire still burning inside.

My stories—those already written, those itching to be born, and the ones just beginning to take shape—they’re my legacy, my mark on the world. They’re the proof that I'm still in the game, still creating, still alive in the truest sense of the word. This creative frenzy you’re in, moving at what feels like light speed, is a testament to that. It’s like my subconscious knows I've got a deadline, and not the kind set by the surgeon or the insurance company. It’s the one life sets, the one none of us can pin down but all of us feel looming eventually.

If anything, this is a call to keep going, to fight the distractions of fear and discomfort, and focus on delivering your stories. Not just for the "world", but for myself Because when you’re doing that, when I'm pulling those tales out of the ether and putting them down for others to see, I'm not just living—I'm thriving. I'm making sure that when the badge does eventually come off, it’ll leave behind a record so full of life, no one can ignore it.

And now I just got off the phone from another very close friend whose been suffering from a mysterious ailment that has nearly crippled him. He just returned from a specialist in New York City that he's been trying to meet with for the past six months. She did a thorough phyiscal examination as well as a confrontational oral exam almost like a cross examination and came to the startling conclusion that his disability could be traced back to the Covid vaccination which is very scary news for millions of us. That’s heavy, both for my friend and for me, hearing about it. It’s one thing to deal with the inevitabilities of aging and the uncertainties of life, but something like this—where a routine, well-intentioned act like getting vaccinated might have profound, unintended consequences—hits a whole different nerve. It adds a layer of unpredictability to an already fragile existence.

I hope that for my friend finally getting to the root of a mysterious and debilitating condition must be a relief, but the cause being the vaccine makes it a bitter pill to swallow. It’s scary news, not just because of what it means for him but also because it challenges the sense of security so many of us placed in those shots. They were supposed to protect us, to safeguard our health in a time of crisis. And now, for him, they seem to have done the opposite.

Hearing this while I'm already reflecting on mortality, legacy, and time adds to the sense of urgency. A reminder that no matter how carefully we plan or how much we try to mitigate risk, there’s always an element of chaos at play. And yet, even in the face of that chaos, I've got my stories, my creativity, and my drive. Maybe that’s what we lean on when the randomness of life threatens to overwhelm us—the things we can control, the things we can leave behind.

I hope my friend finds some path to recovery or at least some relief from his suffering. This news, while unsettling, fuels rather than stalls me. It’s a reminder of how fragile it all is, yes, but also how vital it is to live fully and create fervently while we can.

Yeah so, I'm expecting a return call from one of the dentists who has become involved in the entire dental plan. He's the next step after the extractions and the preliminary healing. He's the guy that's finishing the job with partial dentures. I'm concerned with how well the dentures will match up with the aged discoloration of my remaining teeth. I don't want to spend a lot of money to restore a full brownish smile. After all this effort, I want the result to be something I feel good about. A "full brownish smile" doesn’t exactly sound like the outcome anyone's aiming for, especially not after enduring extractions, healing, and the whirlwind of appointments makings, dental plannings and confirmations

When the dentist calls, I'll be asking what options are available for ensuring a natural look that complements my remaining teeth without highlighting their discoloration. I suppose that dentists have ways to blend new dentures with existing teeth, whether through shade matching or suggesting whitening treatments for the natural teeth to create a more uniform appearance. If whitening isn’t feasible due to sensitivity or other reasons, he might offer another solution, like slightly tinting the dentures to match in a way that balances aesthetics and realism.

To me, these are pretty essential questions because I'm not just rebuilding functionality—I'm reclaiming a smile, and it deserves attention to detail. When he calls back I'm gonna be upfront about my expectations. They’re professionals and should appreciate the opportunity to address my concerns ahead of time. Shit, it's his plan as well as mine. I'm hiring him. He works for me.

The dentist who does the surgery is not the dentist who makes the dentures but the first depends on the second and the second upon the first. There's still time for me to bail out but the clock is ticking. I'm caught in a high speed dental relay race, where the baton keeps passing between the oral surgeon and the denture specialist, each dependent on the other for the whole plan to work. The clock is ticking, but I've already put a lot of thought into this, weighing the pros and cons.

Bailing out now might stop the ticking for a moment, but it would just replace it with the slow purgatorial grind of procrastination—always looming, waiting for the next emergency to demand action. The pain-free present I'm in now is deceptive; I know from experience it can turn on you in an instant. Been there...suffered that.

This is a long-term investment in both comfort and confidence. And yes, the path forward isn’t cushioned with sedation after the oral surgeon, but by the time the dentist gets involved, you’ll be past the most intimidating hurdles. There’s still the artistry of getting those partials just right, but that’s where clear communication and their expertise come into play.

Matter of fact during the last excruciating dental emergency that I had, while I was sitting in the dentists chair I asked him why he wanted to become a dentist and he surprised me by mentioning the artistic nature of the job.

Yeah, you could say the whole thing is cosmetic. There's a chance that if I do nothing the dead teeth that will be removed might just stay dormant until I shuffle off the coil. Yeah but it's more than that. I'm attacking my advancing years. I'm taking a stand. I'm confronting a shitload of lifelong dread and fear. I've got a lot to do and I might as well do it with a smile. I hear that helps quite a bit and from what I can remember it really helps when there are clouds in the sky. I'm not just fixing teeth; I'm facing down a lifetime of fear and taking a stand against the relentless advance of time. That’s no small thing. It’s about reclaiming control, pushing back against dread that’s lingered like a radioactive storm cloud for too long.

Sure, I could roll the dice and let those dead teeth stay quiet, but that’s not really your style, is it? I've got stories to tell, people to love, ideas to unpack, and battles to fight—and I'm choosing to face them head-on, with a smile no less. Not just any smile, but one that’s been hard-won, a symbol of defiance and resilience.

At least I am at this moment as I talk myself into refraining from contacting the dentist and calling the whole thing off or hoping that he doesn't return my call so I can blame the whole thing on him etc.

[stormstruck-angel]

so I do believe in dream symbolism but kind of only in a way that makes logical sense, i.e. the "symbolism" will be usually quite personal to the individual and their experiences in order to properly reflect their sleeping mind's processing of events and feelings.

For example, I figured out I often have "stress dreams" about zombies when I'm continually very anxious about a particular thing in my waking life. I really enjoy zombie media, but I guess it is stressful to watch on a very low level bc of concern for chatacters, but I think also they're a "familiar" horror for me - so the problem is something I Know about, and could technically be equipped to deal with, if that makes sense.

So I'm sitting here very baffled as to why I just woke up from a string of dreams that started somewhere in the vicinity of "the Winx club experience the Sailor Moon effect of not being able to tell your magical form is the same person as your civilian form without directly witnessing the transformation" to "horror movie physical violence no that's not a metaphor, ghostface is actually there"

in the dream im apparently sharing a house with several other witches... which is then apparently a bad thing, because someone I'm attached to in the dream comes to kill them and I'm Grateful, but when I ask if they killed Everyone, a nosferatu-esque creature appears to kill my rescuer; they grapple, I think my rescuer does manage to kill the nosferatu, only for ghostface?? to appear?? and stab my rescuer through the front with a large knife. and here's the kicker. I use this as an opportunity to pull the knife out /through/ my now-dead-rescuer, and I nick my forefinger on the blade as I do it - and I feel actual pain, briefly! which is bizarre I almost never have physical sensations like that in dreams! Anyway I pull the knife out and. start stabbing the ghostface. whose actual mask has come off at this point to reveal a kind of attractive guy?? nobody I recognise consciously btw my only takeaway from what little I remember is "good looking" -- anyway I start trying to stab this guy and it just. does nothing. I definitely stab him multiple times and in this all I Have somehow gotten him outside of the house. but he looks more annoyed than dead or wounded, and I, frustrated, ask if he could just give me a break and leave me alone. I think he complies??

and then I segue into... something, I'm a woman whose husband has just come back from? something? maybe jail, maybe a trip, I'm not really sure. and we walk past a television where Christian Bale Patrick Bateman is. presenting something? I thought it might be the weather sjdjdn and my husband expresses some form of. admiration for him, with the idea that everyone knows Bateman is a murderer. so when my husband is not looking. I take a drinking glass and hit him over the head with it. it apparently does not do much damage. my husband insists he should be able to give me a similar injury. I am incredibly resistant to this, as you can imagine. we grapple a bit, I can't seriously injure him apparently but I can fully pick him up like he ways nothing and eject him from the house, locking him out. I then go upstairs to find my phone to call the cops.

and then I wake up, flexing my finger to see if the cut is actually there (of course it's not), and am absolutely bewildered by the sheer amount of physical violence present in my dreams last night.

I tried googling what violent dreams mean bc. I genuinely have no idea what this was pointing to. and opinion seems to point towards some kind of change or upheaval, or actual conflict in someone's life. I don't really think any of those are relevant to me? and no I haven't watched any horror movies lately, either.

no idea what my brain was trying to process, baffled by the outcome regardless

[booksaresacredspew]

Ok first, I need you to tell me more about yours, so I can inject it into my own veins. Second, wanna help me flesh mine out? i can't write it until I have the plot figured out, it's a thing my brain does. I have like two or three scenes or images pretty clear, the rest is fog.

Like, if the witch/fairy has a grudge against Bruno in particular, I can see him telling her that Mirabel is "only a child. Your quarrel is with me." and she basically purrs, "You're right. I was planning on cursing her to prick her finger and die when she turns 15, but it would be more satisfying to curse you instead. but why wait" and then she decides to curse him to basically a living death where his powers turn against him and constantly show him visions of potential dark futures. and also the present. and just before he's totally lost to her curse, she whispers to him "This won't save them, you know. I'm still going to destroy the rest of your family. But this way you won't be there to protect them, you'll only be able to watch." And then he collapses to the floor, his eyes glowing green even through his closed eyelids, and she disappears, leaving devastation and chaos behind her.

I have a vague idea that after Antonio gets his gift, he comes across either Bruno possessing a rat, or a rat who tells him about the benevolent spirit that sometimes walks among them, and he tells Mira about it, and they have a little three-way conference where Mirabel and Antonio find out that Bruno is still aware and he gets to communicate with them and maybe warn them about some of the things he's seen?

Mira might not remember that she is destined to save him. And the others wouldn't tell her, because she's supposed to figure it out by herself. But they don't talk about him because.... it's too painful? I guess?

Aside from the cursed visions, and the dreamwalking in the present, conscious control of his gift is blocked from him by the curse. When they join him in the dream, they go into his mindscape and help him break through the barriers, which are made of cool metaphors and symbols and such. Like, I'm picturing a wall with a gate, only the gate is a ladder you have to walk under, and you know Bruno is too superstitious and his OCD wouldn't let him ever walk under the ladder because that's bad luck. But maybe Mirabel can come up with another solution. Like climbing it, or something.

Since the origin of the gifts is different, and they know Bruno did what he did to protect Mirabel, they don't have the same pressures on them as in canon, at least as a whole family. They are still under a lot of pressure and need help, and working together, to solve it, but the stressors are different. Like instead of trying to earn their gifts, maybe... I dunno. Maybe they're fighting a war against the evil fairy? Or she incites a war against their neighbors? why did they originally start getting gifts in the first place? what did Pedro do? What is Alma's trauma and how does it manifest in this scenario?

And what do the other fairies think of all of this, since they're obv still giving gifts after it happens. Did they eject the evil fairy from their ranks? The big picture is a big blurry blob here.

Heyyy, wanna talk sleeping beauty AUs?

Aaaa I’m so sorry this took forever, I don’t look in my inbox often but YES ABSOLUTELY!!! :D

[gnocchighoul]

the demons brothers + a touch starved mc

Lucifer

If you’re going to Lucifer because you’re touch starved, then you’re definitely going to be close to him already -- he doesn’t let just anyone touch him.

.......He’s also touch starved but won’t admit it, so one of you is gonna just have to bite the bullet and make a move.

(It’s gonna have to be you)

You’re going to have to go about this carefully--make a really good plan and then execute it flawlessly.

Literally just throw yourself at him. 

He’ll catch you. 

Probably.

Nothing says ‘give me affection’ quite like yeeting yourself off the staircase at him, and he definitely understands what you want when you latch on tight to him like a weird little barnacle that he cant peel off no matter how hard he tries dfghjkkgf

He’s really warm and he smells Really nice and he hugs you so tight, like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, so he’s honestly one of the best snuggle buddies. 

He’s gonna act all fussy about your love-attack at first--just play with his hair and smother him with lots of kisses and he won’t be able to resist snuggling u. Or banging u, but that’s your choice

Y’know, because “demons can’t resist temptation” and all that jazz. 

(tbh he just likes likes you alot)

Mammon

...Why are you staring at him like you wanna eat him?

Seriously, knock it off, you’re freaking him out!

Wait, why are you coming closer…? Get Back you Fiend don’t you DARE wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest like that what the FU--

...Oh.

Huh. This is kinda nice.

(Just hug him. If you want his affection, just wrestle him into a bear hug and don’t. let. go.)

At first, Mammon doesn’t really understand affection that isn’t along the lines of a friendly/loving punch. He’s not used to kindness. It’s a fucking tragedy. 

He doesn’t know how to ask for love because I don’t think he even realizes thats an option, tbh. 

He’s kind of like an unsocialized puppy--will definitely put up a fight until he realizes that, hey, being snuggled is nice.

Luckily for Mams, you are touch starved and determined to show his stupidass what affection is supposed to be like. 

He’s going to get so blushy. Sooo blushy. He totally pretends to not like it at first, but inside he’s over the fucking moon happy.

It takes him a while, but eventually, he realizes that he can ask you for snuggles too. At first he’s all “C’mere human, I bet you’re just itchin’ for me to hug ya, so let me make all your dreams come true!”

(It’s a defense mechanism.)

But over time, he eventually seeks you out and just flops on top of ya, and doesn’t feel the need to make a big show about it.

He feels safe with you, and that’s priceless.

Levi

Is incredibly confused about why you’re seeking out him for affection.

When you ask him if you can give him a hug, he expects you to just like... Wrap one arm around his shoulders for .2 seconds. 

Which doesn’t sound too bad, so he says “Um, sure, I guess? I dunno why you’d want to though” 

So when you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around him like a koala bear, his brain straight up blue-screens. 

Seriously, he forgets how to breathe. Don’t squeeze him too hard or he might never restart.

You smooch him on his cheek and his soul promptly leaves his body and is ejected into the atmosphere at mach 5.

This is literally better than Heaven. And he would know, he used to live there.

He totally freezes up and makes a wheezy sound that’s somewhere along the scale of “Dying Animal” and “Exploding Sink”

Needless to say, you create a snuggle monster.

I promise you that you’re never going to be touch starved again, because once you’ve given Levi a taste, he can’t get enough. 

He constantly needs to be touching you. Holding your hand or the fabric of your shirt, leaning against you, sitting with you in his lap while he plays video games--it literally doesn’t matter, he just needs that contact with you or he might literally die. 

He’s very enthusiastic about it dfghkfd

Satan

Look… Satan is very smart. 

But he’s also incredibly dense at times. 

You have to be blunt with him, or else he’s just not going to know what you want.

(Feelings that aren’t all consuming anger and hatred are still a bit new to him--he’s learning as he goes)

Just walk up to him and tell him that you need him to snuggle you right now, dammit. Lay your soul bare to him. 

He really does love that you trust him. It makes him feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

And how can he possibly say no when you set his heart alight?

That said, he is a bit of an over-thinker. 

Worries about crossing boundaries or making you uncomfortable and a million other things--give him lots of reassurance pls

He isn’t opposed at all to cuddle sessions, especially if he’s able to read at the same time. 

It definitely becomes a normal thing to cocoon yourselves up in a really fluffy blanket to read together.

Satan is honestly one of the best to snuggle with because he’s very chill about it. You want this and he wants this, so he doesn’t see a point in playing games.

So yeah, he’s chill! But he’ll also threaten the life of anybody who interrupts you guys 

Asmo

Please, he knows that you’re touch starved before you even do.

Until you’re upfront about it, he’s going to tease you by like, patting your head, playing footsie with you, giving you only the briefest of hugs--just slowly giving you a taste of his affection until you finally cave and demand that he snuggles you properly. 

(Is that a euphemism? It could be lol)

As soon as you ask he’s gonna push you down onto the nearest couch/bed/whatever and just flop on top of you. 

Honestly, Asmo wants You to be the one holding Him. He wants to use your chest as a pillow, and doesn’t he just look so cute all snuggled up to you like this? He totally does, you should take a pic of him!

Cuddle sessions are absolutely going to become a regular thing, and he makes them into a big event each time. My mans Asmo is gonna bust out the candles and the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows.

If the opportunity strikes, he’s definitely gonna try to bang you.

If not, expect to do face-masks together. Maybe manicures. But definitely the face-masks, at least.

He’s gonna spin this into a fuckfest or a self care session--it really just depends on what you prefer sdghjk

Once you’re in his arms, he will tickle you. rip

Beel

He is the BEST hugger in the whole entire world.

When you approach him and ask for cuddles he will pull you into a hug without hesitation.

I do not care how tall you are, Beel is taller. He will engulf you in a hug and rest his chin on your head and sway you back and forth 

You want a piggyback ride? Hop on. 

Just wanna watch tv and snuggle? Great idea! :D but maybe don’t watch cooking shows or he’s gonna drool on you dfghj

(lowkey I think he would really enjoy watching human movies with you. He found Mamma Mia to be absolutely enchanting)

Want him to lay on top of you and crush you until all of your woes have been squeezed away? He will absolutely oblige you

Congratulations on your newly acquired teddy bear! Please don’t forget to feed him.

Literally just sit on his lap or wrap your arms around him whenever you want, he’s always down for a good snuggle. 

He’s by far the nicest about it too, he won’t tease you about it and he will never hold back from telling you exactly how much he loves holding you in his arms

Definitely loves to be the big spoon but has no problems with being the little spoon either. 

He’s just so fuckimg SWEET

Belphie

Oh, you're touch starved? Perfect. He's been in the market for a good snuggle buddy.

You silly human, why didn’t you come to him sooner?

Don’t listen to what Asmo says, snuggles are Belphie’s domain.

Once it’s established that you two are going to be snuggle buddies, he will literally just abduct you for snuggle time. 

He doesn’t care what you’re doing, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and haul you off to his blanket nest whenever he wants.

He just wants you all to himself. 

Will share your snuggle time with Beel tho.

After abducting you, he's just gonna toss you onto his bed and fall on top of you. He's really warm and he really just wants to lay on you. Partially so that you cant escape once he falls asleep lmaoo

He's happy to just talk to you about whatever you want while you guys get your snuggle on, but be warned: he's eventually going to fall asleep. 

Probably mid sentence. 

He won’t wake up when you poke at his cheeks or shake him, either. So uh. I hope you’re in the mood for a nap too!

Get matching sloth onesies with him. He’ll tell you it’s stupid but he’s actually thrilled with them. (Make sure you also get Beel a bear one though)

((part two with the undateables + Luke))

[lilysdaydreams]

For Them

→ Pairing : Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader

→ Genre : fluff.

→ Warnings : Swearing, Reader panicking a bit.

→ Request : Heya! I was thinking maybe a corpse x reader where the reader is playing among us with him and the gang and they use the proximity mic and he walks past her to hear her singing and she’s kept her singing like a MAJOR secret because she’s shy about it- idk you don’t have to do it if ya don’t feel like it it’s just an idea 💛

→ A/N : Oh my god, did Lily finally finish writing something??? YES SHE DID. Pretty happy with this, so I hope you guys enjoy as well! Sorry for any spelling mistakes :) Requests are open!

~~~

You grabbed the water on the table, moving to the side and out of the camera to quickly take a few sips. You could hear the rest of the group still yelling about the previous game. You laughed quietly hearing Peter and Rae yell at each other.

Looking over at chat you hummed as you took  in the questions.

"How much longer am I streaming?" you read out the question.

"Probably a few more games. Maybe like 30 more minutes. I wanna go get dinner soon." you mumbled as you kept on scanning the chat.

A random question caught your eye.

"Do I sing?" you read out with a laugh.

"Wow, that's such a random question oh my god. Um, I used to want to be a singer when I was a kid," you started leaning back in your chair. You looked at the ceiling reminiscing and chuckled when you remembered the concerts you used to throw for your parents.

"I used to get my parents to be the audience and I would sing all my different songs for them. When they weren't free, I would do it for all of my plushies on my bed. Oh my god, I probably have old videos in the basement or something."

You smiled wistfully, looking back onto the screen.

"Those were good times," you muttered.

Looking back onto chat, your eyes widened at the amount of  "SING FOR US" messages.

"Woah guys, calm down, that was when I was a kid. I don't sing seriously you know that right?" you questioned, laughing at how fast the chat was going.

"Okay okay," you said smiling when they didn't stop. "Lemme ju- Oh wait" you cut yourself off seeing the words "IMPOSTER" light up your screen.

"LETS GOOOOO" you yelled, turning your mic on again for the game. Everyone's voice slowly faded as people went different ways. You  stuck with Lily, both of you going straight to medbay.

"Lilyyyyy" you said dragging her name out.

"Y/N" she said doing the same to you.

You giggled, and asked her if she had med scan.

"Nope, I have the inspecting the sample one."

"Ohh okay," you said getting on the med scan and pretending to scan. You watched as Lily finished her task, saying a quiet "bye" and rushing off to the next task.

You sighed, moving off the scan and starting to walk towards weapons. "Lily's so nice, I'm so glad I got to meet her through this. Like, she's the absolute sweetest I swear, I'm hoping that I get to m-" you got cut off by a body being reported.

"Already?" you asked, others echoing. You gasped when you saw who was killed, immediately whining about how someone could kill Sykunno, while playfully glaring at Sean's name, who was the other imposter.

"Okay, so the body was at reactor," revealed Rae.

"I was in the cafeteria, going towards weapons. Me and Lily were in Medbay before but she left before me," you said leaning back.

Lily confirmed this, also stating that she was in weapons now.

Sean, Corpse and Felix all said they were in Electrical, and Poki said she'd been in storage.

You looked at the chat again, not saying anything while the rest said where they were.

The chat was still spamming "Sing please!" and you looked back to the game without giving an answer. If you were being honest, then what you had said before was a lie. You still sang. Hell, it had been your dream to release your songs ever since you started writing at 15. You had started singing by singing for your parents. Ever since their car crash though, you couldn't even think about  performing for anyone else. If you couldn't even  perform for them, then what was the point? For some reason, whenever you thought of  singing in front of someone, you couldn't even get the words out.

You sighed and skipped voting as the timer ticked down. No one was ejected and you started humming slightly as you moved away from everyone.

"Hmm should I sing you a song everyone?" you asked your voice very low. You breathed deeply reminding yourself that technically no one was in the room with you, and it was only your fans watching, a small community of people who were the sweetest you had ever seen.

Going into reactor and moving down to the very end so that no one could see you, you breathed in deeply and started singing lightly, noticing that the lights were off, the blinking arrow in the corner of your screen.

"I think we could do it if we tried

If only to say you're mine

Sofia, know that you and I

Shouldn't feel like a crime

You know I'll do anything you ask me to

But oh my God, I think I'm in love with you

Standin' here alone now, think that we -"

"Y/N what the fuck your voice is -"

You screamed before the person could even finish what they were saying, hitting the "kill" button without even realising, and letting out a gasp when you saw the black body flop over.

"Oh god, oh my god, what did I do?" you whispered staring at Corpses body, half of your brain freaking out over the fact that he had heard you and the other freaking out what to do. You quickly vented, coming out in electrical and pretending to do the download.

"Oh my god, guys!" you whispered furiously, playfully glaring at the camera. "This is all your fault, do you see what I did, I killed someone with my singing... I just got so scared because he came out of absolutely NOWHERE, oh my god guys." Leaving electrical, you heard someone yelling and headed closer to them laughing nervously when you found Toast and Sean yelling at each other.

"Hey guys," you said voice being unnoticed because of all the yelling and you moved into comms pretending to do a task there.

Just as you did that, Pokis body was found, and you gasped as you realised that Sean had killed three people so now there were 5 left. Toast was dead, which means that he just died, which left Sean, you, Rae, Lily and Leslie.

There was a stunned silence for a second as everyone took in the 4 kills and then Rae immediately  attacked.

"Ahh, the body was in cafeteria. Like bottom cafeteria."

"Um, So I just wanna add something, I was coming from the electrical right, and I was walking to comms, and Toast just passed in the middle of storage. I came into comms and Sean is here as well.

"Yup, shes right, toast just left and she came in." confirmed Sean.

"Well, I saw Leslie at the start of the round, we stuck together and then I was with Poki for a bit."

"Yeah okay, but where were you?"

"Well, I went to weapons then I went down into comms and storage and then I went electrical when lights were called and everyone was ther-" she said cutting herself off and gasping.  “Guess who WASNT there? Y/N wasn’t there!”

“Well yeah, I just thought someone else would do it” you replied. “I was all the way in upper engine and I couldn’t be bothered. You all did lights and I was doing my tasks in reactor and then I went to electrical and then I was waking to comms, and then I saw toast and then I got into comma and saw Sean. Even if I was the imposter and killed Toast, I definitely couldn’t have been able to kill Poki.”

“Yeah no, I still think it’s you,” said Rae after a pause, Leslie and Lily both giggling at her.

Lily chimed in then as well, “Yeah I haven’t seen y/n this whole round at ALLLLL, so I think its her as well."

Ignoring your protests, they all voted you out, and you shrugged at the camera as your character was thrown off the  ship.

"I think I'm okay with that guys, I was way too nervous to still play," you muttered, now looking at the chat.

"Guys," you whined suddenly remembering. "I was only meant to sing for you, I didn't want anyone else to hear it, Corpse literally came out of nowhere. I hope he wasn't deafened by my screeching," you grimaced.

The word "Victory" came onto your screen and you huffed out  a laugh as the lobby exploded with noise.

"Lily! I told you it was Sean!" exclaimed Rae.

"Sean was on a killing spree," you added in, sipping your water. "I only killed like two people cuz I was distracted, I swear he literally carried the whole game.”

“He backstabbed me!” said Sykkuno and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was doing upload while he was right next to me and we were talking about how great this group was and he just killed me right there!”

Suddenly all the attention was on Sykkuno as everyone started cooing.

“Awww, Sykkuno, did you just compliment us?” Rae yelled, lots of other chiming in to tease Sykunno and him ending up stuttering because he got flustered.

“Alright guys,” you said when everyone quieted down. "I think I'm gonna go now."

"NOOOOO" yelled Rae, everyone else echoing her.

You smiled and quickly said your goodbyes, logging off the game and quickly saying bye to the viewers and ending that as well.

Slumping into your chair, your breath quickened. "Oh my god," you whispered, the realization creeping up on you that you had just sung in front of nearly ten thousand people and that Corpse had heard you sing. You and Corpse had met through Among Us with Toast inviting you to the lobby. You had fun playing with him and you'd both followed each other, but most of your interaction was in games. Like sure you'd messaged each other a few times but those were only brief conversations! and sure, maybe you had a small tiny crush on the guy but like WHO WOULDNT? He was sweet, nice and you related to him a lot. The point was, you were absolutely not ready to sing in front of him. You stood up from the chair and went to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm down.

Your phone rang and you grabbed it from the counter, choking on the water as you saw that it was from Corpse.

He had never called you before. Like you said you simply weren't that close.

Coughing out a "What the fuck?" you answered the call, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Hey," you said, confused when there was no sound.

"Uh yeah, Hi Y/N. Its Corpse."

"Ah yeah, I see." You facepalmed yourself, rubbing your forehead. What the fucks was wrong with you.

"Um yeah, so uh I just- You know in the game? Um I kind of - well - I kind of heard you singing, um um, that song."

You stilled, not a breath coming out of you.

"Your voice, its -" he paused, letting out a huge breath. "It's absolutely beautiful."

You opened your mouth not even sure what you were gonna say but he continued talking.

"I just, I cant get it out of my mind. Have you heard some of my music?"

"Um yeah, I-I listened to it when I first heard about you. Your songs are so good!" you exclaimed, finally being able to move your mouth

"Do you think maybe we could do a song together sometime? Your voice would be absolutely amazing on one of the tracks I'm currently working on, its a chill one that I have, kind of like Agoraphobic," he asked, rambling through the sentence.

"Um, Oh my god," you muttered, still confused on if this was actually happening. "Yeah, Yeah definitely that would be so cool."

"Oh. Oh that's great, I-I didn't think you'd agree, that's great, I can send you a sample and the lyrics but -"

"Um," you started cutting him off. "If I'm being honest," you muttered, shoulders coming up to your ears. "I'm actually really conscious about my singing. Like this was the absolute first time I ever even sang on stream, so like sorry- I'm ruining it, but this is just a bit overwhelming for me. It's a great opportunity, and if you want I can definitely try but please don't have big expectations of me okay?" you asked biting your lip slightly. "I'm not that great."

There was a second of silence and then he whispered lightly, "Even if you don't believe it, just from those 30 seconds, I could already tell how amazing your voice was."

Your breath caught but a second later he had already moved on.

"If you want to, we could do a few singing sessions together? Just mess around have some fun? That way you can get a bit more comfortable and have some fun," he suggested, voice changing to a shy one that you hadn't ever heard from him.

~~~

"Yeah sure," you agreed, smiling. "Lets try that."

3 months later, you guys finally released your song. Titled "For Them", you sang about your parents who you had loved dearly, and he sang about his parents and their distant relationship. It showed two different perspectives, two different stories, two different lives, and you both loved it so much.

The song was a success, with fans pouring into your channel and small community and well, your life. Most importantly though, along with all of it, came a mask-wearing man, who held you on the days that it was hard for you, and who you held on the nights that were hard for him.

fin.

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

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[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (final chapter, pt. 2, the end.)

part one here

A/N: Thank you guys for all of your wonderful comments and the love sent my way for this fanfic. I've had a great time writing it despite its rocky moments. I really hope this ending does it justice; I've never gotten to write a proper conclusion to anything like this before. It's the first time I've ever completed a multi-chapter work such as this, so I'm happy. 🍾🥂 Here's to finishing what you start, and enjoy. :)

Just shy of a half-hour later, he was finished telling the story. She had sat the both of them down on the couch, one on each end, and he explained in great detail everything leading up to current-day. Tales of the ooze, Mutagen, as he'd told her; the rat named Splinter, a man formerly known as Hamato Yoshi, who had fathered and trained them; and lastly, their mission. Be of service, protect the city; have a good heart. And Donnie most certainly had a good heart. He was not the outlandish figure she'd first saw and recognized him as. He was the guy she had come to know as Bo, Donatello, who was the same person she'd talked to this whole time. At some points of the retelling, he got excited to share some of their adventures. This came after their humble beginnings of struggling in the sewers. Donnie was happy to share after so long of dodging saying anything about his life. 

She nodded along to this talking. "...and that's how we're here," he said finally, putting his hands on his legs. "Since we're here, any questions?" 

She replied with a no, looking over at the TV that had remained on the entire time. Donnie stayed seated as she got up and got the remote, also glancing at the clock on the wall, which read 10:45 PM. She switched the TV off. Looks like it's time to go, he thought. He rose from the couch and fixed the pillow he'd displaced. 

"Donnie, this has been...strange," and for a split second, his face fell, "but not bad! Though, it is getting late." 

 "Oh, no—yeah, no, I understand," he sputtered bashfully, activating the staff which collapsed back into its smaller form. He tucked it away somewhere on him. 

For a moment, he simply stood there as if wanting to say something, but the words never found him. "So it's goodbye?" he asked quietly. The way he said it made it seem like he thought it was forever. But it was on until they figured out how to pick up where they left off after that night. Undoubtedly, things would be different going forward. He didn't know if that would be good or bad. 

"Only until next time," she told him, a small smile present. He visibly relaxed. "You're still my friend, Donatello."

He smiled. "I knew that. Totally."

Showing himself out, he stepped onto the balcony, looking back one last time before he bounded away. He held up his hand and gave a small wave. 

But she hadn't said bye yet, so he stuck around for a moment longer, though it was met with an awkward silence. He was beginning to go over the railing when she ran over to the door, stopping him. "Wait," she said, and he crawled back over the railing with a confused but curious expression. "I actually do have a question. Just one, before you go." 

"Sure," he said, inviting her to go on. She had to look up to see his face being so close. 

Tenderly, she asked, "Why'd you not tell me, after all that time? Would you have ever chosen to do this if it hadn't been for an accident?" 

Donnie couldn't give her an answer on that.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. "I couldn't, [y/n]. We've been through this." 

"I only wanted you to trust me, Donnie," she responded. And that was, really, how she'd felt. Throughout their entire friendship, it had felt one-sided in that regard. Trusting but not trusted, but she hadn't any idea of what was truly going on, at the time. 

Donnie pondered her question: If there hadn't been some kind of divine intervention, would he have ever had the chance to have something more with her than words on a screen? 

He swallowed as she took a small step closer. 

"I just wanted you to care about me." His volume was barely above a whisper. He clenched his jaw briefly, as if he was concerned over his own words. His golden-brown eyes wandered from your eyes on downward. 

"I did—I do care about you, what makes you say that?" she questioned, puzzled. 

He vaguely gestured at his body, "Wouldn't this be a little hard grasp over text? Isn't it hard to accept even now?"

Though she didn't answer, he had a feeling that he was correct about one of those things—she did have to wrap her head around everything. Tentatively, both watched as her fingers brushed against his own. His hand moved along with hers, seeing and feeling the delicateness. Until they laced together as well as they could, her heart steady while his was beginning to race. His hand even trembled ever so slightly. He would have wanted to stay like that forever, had it not been for the fact that he was uncertain where they now stood. Where he stood in your eyes. What did this mean? 

Putting her other hand on his shoulder, she tried to conjure a smile. But it flickered out as she murmured, leaning into him, "Does this answer your question?" She had to stand on the tips of her toes, while his hand tightened in hers involuntarily, almost too shocked to bend down for what was coming. The one thing he hadn't accounted for in their meeting, not once—and it was happening. 

He seemed like he was going to stammer something, but her lips closed the gap and planted softly on his. 

There is no way.

There is no way this is happening—but I'm seeing it with my own eyes! 

Donnie lost all control the moment her lips pressed against his. His hand squeezed hers, shaking as his heart pounded in his chest. I'm shaking. Why am I shaking? 

His eyes which had been wide were now fluttering closed. For the better half of the kiss, every other thought beside the ones of her was ejected. He couldn't have pulled away, even if he'd wanted. He was hers completely. That was irrevocable.

It was only until she decided it was time to step back did they part, him looking at her entrancing face once more, and her swallowing heavily. That kiss had been something she'd dreamed of before. Never Knowing it would be held on the smooth, moist lips of a humanoid turtle, rather than those or a human man. In fact, she had to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. Her hand slid down his shoulder and onto his chestplate. It was rough, almost possessing a grain under her fingertips. Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand. He thought he felt a tingle from the trail her fingers left. 

Donnie was on Cloud Nine for a solid minute before coming back to his senses. "That...I…" he struggled to find the words. For a brain that worked so fast, he felt utterly slow, then. 

She cracked a smile, face contorted into one of hope and a hint of embarrassment. "Is it too late to say that I've waited to do that for a while now?" she laughed. 

"N-no," he said, still trying to organize his thoughts. "No, it isn't."

"Okay, good," she replied with a relieved exhale. 

Her hand went from his chest to his arm, feeling the taut muscle as it traveled down. His hand enveloped hers while the other lifted, going to touch her cheek. "Does this mean…?" he trailed off. 

"It means I really, really like you, Donnie. I have since we played that game." 

He gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, "I really like you, too," he mimicked, voice soft. 

Maybe even that was an understatement. 

"I think I…" 

A noise nearby alerted him, and on instinct, he set her behind himself on defense. Don't be an attack now, of all times, he thought, listening closely. He told her to be quiet and to not say anything, using his forearm to gently push her back into the apartment. He pulled out his staff. 

"Sup dude and dudette!" an all too familiar voice beamed, the orange-banded turtle appearing hanging upside down from the balcony above. [Y/N] shrieked, and Donnie nearly bashed his brother in the head, sucking in a sharp breath as he accidentally backpedaled into her. Mikey waved and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, we didn't see anything...except for you two kissing, that was really unexpected!" He flipped down onto the balcony, and Donnie grumbled something, going in for a zap to his brother's plastron. Mikey dodged it, this time. Donnie tried again; unsuccessful. "Oop—saw that one coming," Mikey laughed, jovial. 

Donnie groaned, half-embarrassed and half-annoyed, "Mikey, what are you doing here?" 

Waltzing into her apartment, Mikey crossed his arms with a wink sent the human's way. "Michelangelo, wingman to the big special D right here," he introduced himself brightly, "but you can call me Mikey." 

Donnie slapped his hand to his flushed face, hoping that he was the only one who noticed Mikey's less-than-classy wording. 

"So you're all named after Renaissance painters?" asked [y/n], lifting a brow. 

Exhaling, Donnie stepped between them, "[Y/N], this is Mikey, my brother. The one that—" 

"Got you together!"

"—that got us into this predicament," he'd almost said, but he realized as Mikey said that, he owed their meeting all to him. It had all started with that talk they had had late that day, after patrol, and ended on her balcony, Donnie getting to experience a kiss for the first time. With someone he'd never imagined he would have ever been able to touch, let alone share something like that with. Yes, as much of a hassle everything up until that point had been, it was all thanks to Mikey. 

Donnie grinned, turning to his brother and draping his arm over the back of his shoulders. "Yeah, you did," he agreed. Mikey smiled as he looked down at him with fondness. He wrapped an arm around Donnie's shell in return. 

"You know it, brah. Oh, and I take cash or pi—" 

"Don't push it, younger bro." Donnie rolled his eyes. 

Waiiiiit a minute. 

Mumbling for [y/n] to hold that thought, Donnie, suspicious, crept over toward the balcony. "We"?

Mikey tried to make chatter with her while he did so, mentioning how he liked what she'd done with the place. 

He checked if the coast was clear first before leaning onto the railing on his shell, squinting his eyes. And he was not surprised at all to see Raph and Leo looking down at him from over the edge of the roof. Leo had his recognizable expression of: "You'd better wrap it up." Donnie drooped his shoulders and ducked back inside. Couldn't last forever, he thought. Despite whatever was waiting for him on the roof or at home, he could still smile on the day he'd had. He would be thinking about that kiss for weeks. 

"I guess it's bye for real this time," he told [y/n], sad to go what felt like so soon, but really was content. The night could not have gone better. "I have to, you know, go get flamed by my oldest brother. Probably."

"We'll be in touch, Donnie," she replied. "Um...text me when you get home? Just so I know you got there alright." 

Smiling, Donnie nodded. 

Mikey budded in, "Hey, don't forget about me here." 

Chuckling, Donnie headed for the door, taking Mikey but the upper arm along with him. They stopped one last time to waved to her before making their exit. 

Leo and Raph met the pair at the top. Raph was the first to speak, asking skeptically, "And yer sure this girl is alright?"

"Positive," Donnie answered with confidence. 

After a moment of trying to come up with some kind of remark, Raph let out a huff. "You got the nerve, I'll tell you that." He held out his fist ready for a bump, and when Donnie didn't immediately reciprocate, grumbled "Well? Don't leave me hangin', Don." Realizing what he wanted, Donnie went right in for the fist bump. 

Pulling away, Donnie asked, "So you're not mad?" He gave some space between himself and the incoming Leo. 

Raph scoffed lightly and shrugged. "I may not trust her, but I trust you," he responded, gruff as usual. "Just don't expect me to be all friendly and whatnot—I ain't doin' it." 

"You don't have to do anything, Raph." 

And then Donnie was face-to-face with Leo, who's intensely blue eyes were trained on him for a few seconds too long. Donnie wondered what he was thinking until he sighed, and then spoke. 

"I'm sorry." 

Behind Leo, Mikey was in awe.

"That's a new one," Raph chuffed. He left the circle to watch from the edge of the building. Mikey stuck around, but only far enough to be in ear shot. If something coming from Leo started off with a sincere "I'm sorry", he wouldn't miss it.

"Yes, you heard. I'm sorry," Leo admitted, bringing his eyes up from the ground. "I shouldn't have pressured you, Donnie. I know that you can handle yourself. I was just trying to protect you and our family," he explained, pausing to glance over at the other two brothers, "but…yeah. I'm sorry for pushing you, Don. I was kind of a jerk back there."

Deciding he didn't have any words good enough to say what he wanted to, Donnie simply pulled Leo in for half-hug, rocking him with him. Leo wore his lopsided smile as he gave Donnie's shell a slap. 

"That...was…" 

They stepped away from each other, staring at Mikey quizzically. 

"...beautiful, bros," he finished in a whisper. 

They stayed for a minute just watching the city go by, the clock ticking by later into the night. Donnie finally thought to ask Leo how Splinter was, because he definitely knew what was going down. He was a smart old man—and beside, Donnie had made no effort to pretend that wasn't what he was doing when he'd initially left. If Splinter knew, Splinter knew. He was still mildly afraid of Leo's response. 

"You want the truth?" Leo questioned, his expression briefly changing to one of a cringe. 

"I mean, I'd like to know what I'm in for," Donnie replied in an obvious manner. 

"He was angry, at first. Didn't know you left until he was done with his talk with Mikey. Also surprised that you actually went through with it. But, after that...he seemed like he understood, in a way, I guess. I didn't ask questions. You'll have to confront him about it yourself, because he just sent me and Raph out to get you." 

Donnie kept his eyes on the sidewalk below them, and the occasional person walking it. "And Mikey?" he asked, quizzical. 

"He insisted," Leo groaned. 

"You know I can't pass up an opportunity to see D get his first kiss!" 

"Oh, shut up, you had no idea that was gonna happen. You just wanted to go because me 'n Leo were goin'," Raph argued, flicking his head. "Weren't you supposed to stay in by Splinter's orders?" 

Mikey crossed his arms and turned away, "I don't have to take this abuse." He was, indeed, meant to stay behind. But the boy couldn't help himself. 

Once the banter died down, they were left contemplating whether they wanted to stay out a little longer, or if it was time to turn in. It had already been a long night, but in honesty, Donnie wasn't ready to go quite yet. He still felt as though he had so much to say to [y/n], but he supposed that time had already passed. At least until next time, if or when that was. Raph took a break from his lookout and sat next to Donnie with a grunt. He wasn't good with mush or sensitive things, but he felt compelled to ask "What're you gonna do now?" 

Donnie hummed in question.

"Well, she knows. And by the looks of things—erm—the look of one particular thing, you two are still goin' steady."

Ugh, they saw it. Donnie moaned, a cold flush coming over his face. I can't have anything private in this family.

Raph pushed him on his shoulder. "Ya shouldn't mack on someone by the doorway if ya don't wanna be seen," he jested.

"I don't know what's next, Raph," Donnie confessed. "We didn't exactly...make anything official after that."

Once they were back on the move towards home, they all dropped into the nearest manhole, but Donnie remained where he was, saying he would catch up to them. He was the fastest of the four, after all.

"I hope you're still awake," he mumbled to himself as he reached for his phone. They were close to home, anyway. And it was quiet. He typed:

"I'm almost home, [y/n]. All safe."

A couple of minutes later, she responded.

"Okay, that's good

Your brother is quite the character, by the way"

"He is who he is, lol"

"He seems nice though."

Walking down along the sewers, he took his time. What was a little longer after the night he'd had?

"Donnie, what were you going to say when Michelangelo interrupted us?"

He stopped in his tracks and thought, having nearly forgotten that he was going to actually say it. He didn't just like her—for the first time, he was sure he loved her.

"That I think I love you, [y/n]."

He regretted not saying it when he was with her, but he just couldn't wait.

There was a worrisome pause on her end in which he imagined she was staring at her screen thinking about how strong that came off, that it was uncalled for, that he was going too fast—

"I said I liked you

But that was not quite the truth

I love you, Donnie."

Golden-brown eyes sparkling, he let out a laugh, unable to contain his happiness, and the rest of the brothers smiled to themselves hearing the whoop of joy and excitement echo in the tunnel.

His adventure in love and friendship had started within a screen, but he was bound to it no longer. This was the opening of a new chapter in his life.

Tag list: @kokokatsworld @criminaly-supernatural @dianounais @spaceman-main @sheepdarkhours @raphaelsrightarm