#I was thing about change and butterfly’s

[science-hoes]

You Are In Love

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical medical descriptions, a dad joke, VERY FLUFFY

Description: Jack needs the reader to help him with a VIP patient, but she soon learns about his chosen family.

——

Jack Abbot was the reason you wanted to go into emergency medicine. Watching him under pressure was like watching an Olympian in their medal-winning sport. He handled every case with control and diligence, and that lured you into the specialty even more. It only took one medical school rotation with him to know that you wanted to play the game.

So now, in your third month of your internship, you spent nearly every moment with Jack Abbot on the night shift. You rarely had a different attending. The scheduling gods seemed to be in your favor. Of course, you had gotten to know everyone else on staff. You had made friends with the other residents and attendings. Dana had become your favorite charge nurse. Even the social workers were happy to see you walk through the doors.

You arrived an hour early for your night shift, hoping to practice some more suturing in the skills lab before shift change. Just as you were about to escape the doctors lounge and head to the lab, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey, kid, I could use your help.”

You turned to see Jack pulling a pair of gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Oh, hi.” You replied as you walked toward him. “What are you doing here this early?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, that smug asshole smile on his face. “I could ask you the same.”

You shrugged. “I was gonna go to the skills lab and suture. But not if you need me.”

He nodded and pressed a hand on your back as he lead you to one of the Central rooms. “We have a VIP.” He explained.

He swung the curtain open to reveal a little girl with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. You’d seen those eyes before…

“Uncle Jack!” The five year old exclaimed at the sight of your attending.

It was like magic, the way Jack’s usual stoic demeanor turned into one that would rival a Disney hero. “Hey, princess!” He returned her enthusiasm, a wide grin on his face. He dropped to his knees in front of the child and grabbed her tiny hands in his. “What are you doing here, huh?” He took a quick glance at the mother, who was holding a small blue bundle in her arms.

“I’m hurt.” The child replied, albeit vaguely.

The young woman let out a strained sigh. “We were at the park, and Eliza jumped out of the swing when she saw some older kids do it. Landed on her arm.” She explained.

Jack nodded, giving a don’t-blame-yourself look to her. Then his eyes flicked back to Eliza. “Can I see your arm, please?” He asked, a voice so gentle that it had to have been someone else’s. A moment of hesitation from the child. Then a head-tilt from the silver-haired man. “Uncle Jack is gonna make it all better.” He promised.

That seemed to convince her because she slowly, feebly presented her swollen arm. Jack delicately held the arm in his hands and examined it.

“Bump her up to next in line on X-ray. We’ll get her some IV morphine to help her relax. Could need realignment and screws.” He said to you.

Just as you were about to walk out of the room, you bumped into someone rushing into the room. A mumbled apology was the only thing you heard before a shrill “Daddy!”

You turned to see Michael Robinavitch kneeling to the ground in front of the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart!” He greeted.

Oooh. VIP. This was Robby’s family. The patient was Robby’s daughter. You left while the family reunited to order the X-Ray. When you turned to enter the room again, Dana was leading Robby’s wife, who held a tiny baby, to the cafeteria.

“X-Ray order is in. Next in line.” You announced to the attendings.

Jack gave you a thumbs up. He was sorting out the materials needed for IV morphine. He pulled the butterfly needle out of the packaging, and like clockwork, Eliza began to cry. Robby knelt to meet his daughter’s eyes, the ones that were a perfect mirror of his. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me.” He whispered. “We have to get you the medicine so your arm will stop hurting, okay? Just a quick poke.”

Eliza shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “Daddy, please, don’t do it.” She begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

And if you’d never seen a man’s heart break in real time, the look on Robby’s face would be ingrained in your memory forever. His body seemed to go limp at his daughter’s words, unable to insert the needle if he tried. Jack quickly intervened, kneeling next to Robby. “Daddy isn’t gonna hurt you.” He assured the child. “He’s gonna hold you while Uncle Jack gives you the medicine. Does that sound okay?”

Eliza still continued to cry. You remember being her age and having a paralyzing fear of needles. So, you stepped forward to distract from the two pathetic men on the ground. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna show you how it works, okay?” You said.

You grabbed the blue elastic tie from the tray and wrapped it around your forearm. “First, Uncle Jack is gonna wrap this around your arm. It’s gonna give you a big hug for a few minutes!”

You picked up the alcohol swab package and opened it. “Then, he is just going to give your hand a little bath to get it all clean. Like this.” You said, swiping the wipe across the back of your hand. “See? All clean!”

You tossed the wipe and grabbed the J-tip, pressing it on the cleaned part of your hand. “Then, he’s going to give you a stamp that makes your hand tingle. What’s your favorite soda?” You continued.

Eliza followed your every move with an intense curiosity. “Sprite.” She sniffled.

You smiled. “When Uncle Jack gives you the stamp, it’s going to sound like you’re opening a Sprite can. It’s just air.” You explained.

Eliza nodded, rubbing chubby fingers across her wet eyes. You reached for the butterfly needle after placing the J-tip back on the tray. “Last, he’s going to let this little butterfly give you a kiss where the stamp was.” You finished, inserting the needle into one of your own veins. “See? It doesn’t hurt!” You lied through your teeth. It always hurt more to get an IV on the back of your hand, but that was Eliza’s best bet.

You yanked the blue tie off your arm, then removed the butterfly needle. “Think you can let Uncle Jack try now?” You asked.

Eliza didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest either. You smiled, motivated mostly by pride, and looked to your senior attendings. Both men stared back at you. Robby with a look of relief, mostly because you got his daughter to calm down. But Jack…you couldn’t read the look on his face. He broke your gaze to pat Robby on the back, standing up with him.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you that medicine.” He said, grabbing a fresh butterfly needle.

Robby sat on the bed, crossing his legs, and pulled Eliza carefully into his lap. He cradled the little girl in his arms, using his free hand to smooth her dark hair as she whimpered. “Shh…Daddy’s got you.” He soothed.

Eliza melted into her father’s embrace, blinking slowly when he brushed stray tears from her reddened cheeks. Jack tenderly grabbed her uninjured arm and wrapped the blue tie around her forearm still loose. “Alright, Eliza. You’re about to feel that big hug, okay?” He explained, then pulled the blue tie snug.

A small sound of discomfort escaped the child, but she remained docile in her father’s arms. Jack traced the tiny veins on the back of her hand and found his target. When he turned around to reach for an alcohol swab, you already had it ready for him with an outstretched hand. For a brief moment, Jack was caught off guard, but he took the swab from your palm, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin for a beat longer than normal.

“Now, let’s give your hand that cold bath.” He said.

Jack rubbed the wipe across his tiny workspace, and Eliza let out the smallest, softest giggle. Robby smiled, probably for the first time since he stepped foot into the room. “That tickle? Yeah?” He teased. Eliza nodded, just a little bit.

“You ready for that Sprite can sound?” Jack asked, once again reaching, and you already met him halfway with the J-tip.

“Yeah.” Eliza whispered, her face half nuzzled into Robby’s chest, but still enough to keep an eye on Jack’s movements.

Jack placed the J-tip over the vein he wanted, and just like you said, it sounded like a can of Sprite opening, minus the sugary fizz that followed. Eliza jerked her hand pack at the odd sensation of carbon dioxide shooting across her skin. Robby reached his finger under her palm for her to grasp, and she did, just like she always had since she was born.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He said softly.

Jack rubbed the spot on the back of her hand. “Once it starts working, we’re gonna let that butterfly land on it, okay?” He explained.

“And it will give me a kiss?” Eliza asked, looking to you, her source of information.

Jack and Robby both chuckled, and the latter pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yeah, just like that.” He replied.

Eliza giggled, but in her joy, she shifted and moved her broken arm. The laughs quickly turned to screams of pain again, and Jack winced.

“Oh, you gotta be still, princess. We’re almost ready for the medicine.” He said. Then, he leaned in, like he was trying to keep his voice from Robby’s earshot. “You know, if you keep being a brave girl, once you’re all healed up, you can come to my house and go swimming.” His voice was playfully sly.

The cries reduced, just a little. “I can?” She blubbered.

Jack nodded. “Sure. As long as your mommy and daddy say it’s okay.” He replied, glancing up at Robby, hoping he didn’t just make a promise outside of his power.

Robby smiled and nodded. “Of course. You need to show Uncle Jack how you can swim without floaties now.” He said.

Jack’s eyes blew comically wide. “Without floaties? Only big girls can swim without floaties.”

Eliza nodded, her bottom lip still quivering, but a glint of pride was in her eyes. The same one you’d seen in Robby’s eyes many times. “Can Abby come, too?” She asked.

Jack nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “Absolutely. We’ll have a pool party.” He reached back for the butterfly needle, and once again, the brush of your fingers against his. He kept it out of Eliza’s view, continuing to hold her hand. “Your daddy and I will grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. You can teach Abby how to swim. We’ll invite Nana, too.”

Eliza didn’t even flinch when Jack inserted the butterfly needle. You carefully concealed your morphine syringe and connected it to the line. But just as you could see her entire body relax in Robby’s arms from the push of meds, she looked to you with those big brown eyes. “Are you gonna come to the pool party?” She asked.

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Does an invitation from a five-year-old have enough warrant to show up at your boss’ house? Jack placed a hand on your back, lower than he probably meant to. “Yes, she’ll be there, too.” He confirmed for you.

You snapped your head to his direction. Those hazel eyes bore into you, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. In that silence, he winked at you, a smug smile on his face.

“Uncle Jack, she’s pretty.” The little voice broke your small moment.

Your eyes widened, heat crawling up your neck. Robby let out an involuntary sound, a mixture of a laugh and a choke. But Jack never looked away from you. In fact, he doubled down with, “I know.”

Before you could melt away in a puddle of embarrassment and giddiness, the curtain swung open, revealing Dana and Robby’s wife, still cradling a tiny bundle.

“Nana!” Eliza sluggishly squealed.

Dana leaned over and gently tickled Eliza’s shoulders. “There’s my girl!” She exclaimed.

You tilted your head, confused by the connection. “Nana?” You questioned.

Robby chuckled. “Eliza couldn’t say ‘Dana’ when she was little, so she kept calling her Nana.” He explained.

Dana gave you a stern but playful look. “Keep in mind that I am not old enough to be a real Nana.” She stated.

Jack raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I know plenty of people your age who are grandmothers.” He said.

Dana pointed a finger at him and jabbed his chest. “How would you like to lose another foot?” She threatened.

Your jaw dropped at the comment. That wasn’t allowed, right? Surely, that crossed some kind of line. But Jack just chuckled and swiped her hand away.

“I’d love to. I’ll be one step closer to becoming a robot.” He replied. “Literally.”

Robby’s wife groaned at the unfortunate pun. “Please, stop. I already have to listen to Robby and his dad jokes.” She begged.

Robby grinned proudly. “Yeah, leave it to the professionals.” He teased, but his eyes moved to the bundle his wife was holding. “How’s my little man doing?” He asked.

She smiled and moved to sit on the bed next to Robby and Eliza. “He’s been a sleepy boy all day. Better than testing out his lungs though.” She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder as she spoke. “How’s my big girl?”

Eliza grinned sheepishly when her mom reached to gently pinch her rosy cheeks. “Uncle Jack said we can have a pool party at his house.” She stated, beginning to slur her words in sleepiness. “He said Nana can come. And he said Abby can come.”

Dana chuckled. “Still calling him Abby, huh?” She asked.

Robby smiled, shifting so that Eliza could rest horizontally as she began to doze off. “We’re working on it.” He answered. “Somewhere she learned that nickname. Can’t imagine from who.” He joked.

Jack huffed and moved to where Robby’s wife sat, offering his pinky to the baby boy’s tiny hand, activating his palmar grasp reflex. “Have they been desecrating our name, buddy?” He asked, a lilt in his voice. “Us Abbots are fighters. We don’t take shit from anybody.”

Dana’s swat at Jack’s shoulder for cursing in front of Eliza and his following defense of “She’s asleep!” didn’t distract you from your new piece of information.

“He’s an Abbot?” You questioned, a feeling of warmth in your chest.

Robby’s wife smiled. “Michael Abbot Robinavitch. We stuck with Michael for about a week, but…” She trailed off, looking to her husband.

Robby’s shoulders hunched a bit. “She calls me Michael when I’m in trouble. I got a little scared every time she said his name.” He admitted, but his smile remained. “So we settled on Abbot.”

Jack carefully cradled Abbot as Robby’s wife passed him over. His tanned biceps that strained against the sleeves of his scrub top made the baby look incredibly small. He slowly walked over to you, his right foot stepping heavier as usual, his eyes focused on the baby. A deep smile graced his lips. And just on the edges framing the smile were huge dimples. You wanted to save that image forever. You brushed a finger against the baby’s tiny hand, smiling when he moved in response.

Meanwhile, Robby was elbowed by his wife, who exchanged an excited but knowing glance with Dana at the sight of you and Jack sharing that unintentionally tender moment. All he did was nod in response, eyebrows raised in a silent confirmation.

“Why Abbot? Is Jack that important?” You teased.

Dana threw her hands up in exasperation. “Thank you!” She said. “That’s what I said. I’m still waiting for a little Dana.”

“Working on it.” Robby said with a wink, quickly receiving an elbow in the ribs from his wife.

“Michael!” His wife hissed.

Robby cowered slightly at his birth name. Jack nodded his head towards them. “See? That’s why this is Abbot.” He said.

You giggled and gently ran a hand over the baby’s soft hair near his forehead, afraid to venture too far back towards the fontanelle. “Well, Abbot is very cute.” You complimented.

A simultaneous “Thank you” filled the room. One genuine, from Robby’s wife. The other facetious, from Jack. Laughter filled the room, and you felt oddly a part of a family. Their family.

Perlah entered the room with a pediatric wheelchair. “X-ray is ready for Eliza.” She said, smiling at the sight before her.

Robby stood carefully, holding his daughter snug against his chest. “I’ll go with her. We can walk.” He said and followed Perlah out of the room.

As if it were a snap back to reality, Jack walked back over to Robby’s wife and carefully transferred Abbot back to her arms. “I’m gonna go check on that DUI kid in Central Four.” He said before looking over to you. “Go ahead and get the cast materials ready. She’s gonna want pink.”

Jack left the room, holding onto the ends of his stethoscope as he walked. You found yourself frozen for a moment, processing everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes or so. Someone cleared their throat, and you snapped your head in that direction, embarrassment coursing through your veins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You said, moving to the drawers of the room quickly to grab the liner and plaster.

Robby’s wife looked to Dana with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Dana nodded, intercepting her question in the air.

“So, what do you think of Abbot?” She asked.

You smiled, bringing the supplies back to the tray near the bed. “He looks just like Robby.” You answered.

Dana rolled her eyes. “No, not Dana Jr.” She deadpanned, then nodded her head toward the Pitt. “The Lieutenant Colonel.”

Your hands froze where they were, sorting out the supplies. Slowly you looked up, and you were met with both women staring intently at you. “Oh, Doctor Abbot…” You corrected yourself. “He’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Robby’s wife immediately responded.

Dana gave her a look of way-to-blow-our-cover. You let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, yeah. But he’s way older than me. And we work together.” You answered, using your answers to ground yourself as to why your crush was a dead end.

Robby’s wife shrugged. “So? Robby is almost 20 years older than me. And we work together.” She countered.

You tilted your head. “Wait, you work here? In emergency?” You asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been on maternity leave.” She explained.

“Ohhhh.” You drew out, finally connecting the dots.

Dana smiled. “See? So what are your other excuses?” She pried.

You laughed slightly and shrugged. “I guess I don’t know if he’s interested.” You replied.

The two women shared another glance, debating on revealing any other information. “But you are?” Robby’s wife asked.

You smiled slightly, looking down at your hands. “Who wouldn’t be?”

The conversation ended there when Robby reentered the room with a slightly awake Eliza. “Distal radius fracture. No surgery.” He announced.

His wife let out a sigh of relief and smiled when her husband sat next to her again, still cradling the little girl. “That means we can all go home tonight.” She said, pressing her forehead to Robby’s shoulder.

—

After you followed Jack’s careful instruction while shaping the cast on Eliza’s arm, the little girl begged everyone to sign it. By the time she left with her family, there was a “Mommy”, “Daddy”, “Nana”, and your name with a smiley face on the hot pink wrapping. And as soon as you finished writing your name, Jack had snatched the sharpie from your hand, scrawling “Uncle Jack” right next to your signature.

As you watched the Robinavitches leave the Pitt, you found yourself smiling. You wanted that. The devoted parents, the precious children, the caring friends who became family.

You knew Jack was approaching by the uneven foot pattern, but you didn’t turn around. “You think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He stood by your side, brushing his thick shoulder against your frame, looking down at you with a trace of a smile. “I’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He answered honestly.

You looked up to meet his gaze. Those bourbon eyes were intoxicating, but you fought to maintain eye contact. “You’re really great with kids.” You complimented. “Eliza loves you.”

His smile deepened to a sincere one you weren’t used to seeing. “Thank you.”

The stare off continued. “Do you want kids?” You blurted out, and you nearly clamped your hand over your mouth at the word vomit.

Jack tilted his head, smile unfaltering. “If I find the right person to have them with.” He replied, leaning down closer to you just slightly. “Before I turn to dust.”

You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed with you and crossed his arms, the muscles rippling across his skin. You didn’t notice when he leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“What you did in there with Eliza. Walking her through the process. Got her to stop crying. Good job.” He whispered lowly.

The hair on your neck stood at attention at the praise, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. You tried to brush off the feeling. “Thanks, Doctor Abbot.” You replied.

His face twitched when you called him by his last name, like he forgot you were his intern and not his. “Jack.” He corrected you.

You looked up to him again, taking in another drink of his eyes. There was vulnerability this time. “Jack.” You repeated in a whisper. “I didn’t know you had dimples.”

It was Jack’s turn to get flustered. “What do you mean?” He asked, and you could see the red creeping up his freckled neck.

You gently poked at his cheeks where the divots had appeared earlier. “You have dimples when you smile. It’s really cute.” You teased.

You could see the muscles in his face actively working to hold back a smile. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smile.” He answered as seriously as he could.

You wrapped your hands around his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

And the smile Jack held back flooded onto his face. Dimples and all. He placed a hand over yours and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. Nobody said another word. You didn’t have to. You could hear it in the silence.

——

A/N: this is probably gonna get a Part 2 featuring the pool party because I can’t help myself. Also this can technically be a Robby x Reader fic because I intentionally didn’t give his wife a name so you can have the best of both worlds here 💙

[thesweetestdevotion]

🎀🫧PAC: Good News!🫧🎀

hi!! Here is a Glinda (or Galinda?) inspired PAC for you all! I've become obsessed with the Wicked movie so I made a bunch of cute moodboards on Pinterest, and then they inspired me to make a PAC. Today I'll be reading about good news coming your way! Remember to take things as they resonate and leave the rest, these readings are for collectives of people so not all things are meant specifically for you! Have fun and enjoy the pretty pink vibes hehe!

🎀paid readings (spring sale!) 🎀masterlist 🎀ko-fi! 🎀

divider cred: @bernardsbendystraws | pictures sourced from pinterest

🫧 pick your pile! 🫧

🫧 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 🫧

Signs this is your pile: kabuki brushes, purple, yik yak, Sagittarius, 5th house placements, leo rising, rahu dominance, baby's breath flowers, mariachi, "ojos negros, piel canela..." song lyrics I think, blue butterflies, "battle scars"

What good news are coming your way: The World rv, Temperance, The Lovers, Ace of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles

I see you gaining a new opportunity here. Your cards tell me that you are ending an old pattern or cycle in your life and embracing the new opportunities that are going to come in! I see that you are in a harmonious and balanced energy which is allowing you to invite positive change and endless opportunity. Specifically I see a leveling up in finances and the material realm in general. Perhaps you are coming into a new job that increases your income. I'm hearing some people here could be starting an internship too! I also see a positive influence in terms of relationships, you could be meeting new people due to this new opportunity. I see you being in full alignment with the people spirit is putting your way! I think you will enter an era in your life where you are glowing, and your aura is attracting amazing experiences!

What can you do to prepare/advice: 2 of Swords, The Sun, The Tower, 4 of Wands, The Empress

I see that in order to prepare you need to make a choice. For those that this is about a job, you may have to choose between two offers, for example. Mostly I just see you needing to have good discernment and to become in charge of your own life. If that means some people have to hear no's from you, then so be it! I also see a need for you to be aware of your tendency to expect the worse all the time. Yes, bad things happen all the time, but don't let that become an obsession with control. Let life flow to you, both the good and the bad, and learn the art of detachment. Also, many here need to care for their home, cleaning, throwing away old things, that kind of stuff. Throw out the old and make way for the new!

good luck xxx

🎀 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 🎀

Signs this is your pile: island in the sun by weezer, the last of us, stitches, sewing, spanish, "ten toes down" ?, broken nail or hand, france/francophone, "li", lookism manhua, cancer, 10th house placements, jupiter dominance, libra rising

What good news are coming your way: 8 of Cups, Knight of Cups rv, Queen of Pentacles rv, 4 of Coins rv, 6 of Cups

I think the good things coming your way will be the reconciling of your past. This pile seems like they have had very adverse experiences in their past, particularly in childhood. I think these experiences have weighed heavy on you for a long time. I'm seeing some dealt with poverty, harsh/abvsive mother figures, heartbreak, and more. I think it is time for you to finish healing and move on. I see that you have tried to do so before but to no avail, this time I see you stepping into your power. You needed to feel better before being able to move on, I'm seeing some of you actually moving somewhere else physically. Perhaps this is going to help you even more, as new environments can enrich us and help us grow! I just see you perhaps reminiscing about the past a bit, but ultimately changing this for the better. I think you may be needing to spend more money than you usually do, but I don't see this as a bad thing. Remember that money flows both in and out, so you shouldn't limit yourself so much, especially when it can be used to help you. Your relationship to money, food, and comfort will be going trough a transformation as well! I keep seeing a man? dark haired, light skin. This man is not good and has hurt you in the past, trust your instincts on this (veryy specific).

What can you do to prepare/advice: Emperor, The Moon rx, Knight of Swords rv, Ace of Swords, 2 of Cups rv

I think you need to step into a more authoritative and leading energy. I see you needing to be proactive in creating this new reality for yourself because it is going to take a lot of tangible work. Be level headed and plan things out. I think you need to start cutting some ties as well, healing only takes you so far if the people/situations that made you feel bad are still lingering around you. You also need to be more open and honest with yourself and others, don't hide your emotions to make people comfortable. Sometimes we need to be harsh and stand strong on certain issues. So speak up, and don't be afraid to advocate for yourself!

wishing you all the best xxx

👛 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 👛

Signs this is your pile: lonely in gorgeous by tommy february6, red note, toji? or tony? idk but I heard that, photo album or book, curly hair routine, axolotls, dunkin donuts, riding a bike, hiking, libra, 7th house placements, mars dominant

What good news are coming your way: The Chariot, The Devil rv, 5 of Cups rv, King of Pentacles, 5 of Swords

I think you are leaving a lot of bad habits behind! I see that you have been in bad cycles of overindulgence and self sabotaging behavior which has only served to keep you off track and make you too dependent on other people. You will be gaining the willpower and strength needed to break out of this. I think these changes will be coming at you very fast and will get you in a whirlwind, so be prepared for things to pick up now. I think you have been in conflict with this side of yourself for a long time, it's time to stand up and make changes for yourself. Nobody is ever perfect, so don't be afraid that you aren't good enough or that you are going to somehow fail, because not only is it not true, but I see that you have success and movement in your future!

What can you do to prepare/advice: Ace of Wands rv, 9 of Wands rv, The Fool, Ten of Swords rv, 10 of Pentacles

I think you need to be open to new things. This new cycle in your life is going to be unlike anything you've ever seen before so you will be out of your comfort zone, its only natural! You will have to learn a lot of things, both about yourself and the world around you. I think you need to focus on just being at this time. Don't get too fired up, because like I said, your world is going to get hectic soon, don't add too much onto your plate. You also need to spend time with loving and supportive communities, whichever those are for you. Could be family or friends, lean onto their grounded energy and seek out their advice for when you feel lost or confused, they will be more than happy to help you!

be blessed love xxx

hope you guys like this one! it took me so long for no reason lol xxx

[harmomay]

LADS MEN with an autistic s/o!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

xavier, zayne, rafayel & sylus

Suprisingly knows a lot about it! Goes as far as to be aware of the whole ‘masking’ process.

Generally speaking, he’s a free weighted blanket. Will go out of his way to make sure he’s wearing clothing without that texture when cuddling. 

His whole home is pretty much an autism safe space already. No overhead lighting. Everywhere is soft and quiet. 

Not being the most expressive man out there, he definitely empathises and understands if you do the same thing. Especially if going nonverbal/are overwhelmed. Will print out a bunch of those communication cards, might even use some of them himself.

Sometimes is taken aback by sudden moments of hyperfocus, silently observing with interest as your attention span for this one thing is seemingly unbreakable.

Personally prefers the straight-to-the-point conversations. 

If you get tired a lot, especially from socialisation, he will definitely encourage nap times after work.

Immediately asks what he can do to support you. As a doctor, he’s very much used to the medical approach and may be more focused on how it negatively impairs your life. Though, he’s quick to change his perspective.

The more he does independent research as well as the input from you, the more he resonates with a lot of the traits. Personally, I see a lot of autistic traits such as social awkwardness, hyperfixations etc. (though important to acknowledge there are social factors as to why he’s so ‘cold’) in him and let’s be real- he’s probably at one point been told by someone he’s autistic. Hadn’t really looked into it until you came along.

Personally I think that Zayne is such a good doctor in the story is because he empathises with his patients on a much deeper level, but isn’t really good at expressing it externally (hence the ‘coldness’)- something which i’ve found through experience seems to correlate with a lot of autistic peoples’ experiences

He probably knows a few good pediatricians, occupational therapists and asks for recommendations regarding accommodations for you. Your experiences also encourage him to bring more awareness to sensory-friendly spaces within the hospital for patients.

Will get butterflies in his stomach listening to you infodump about your latest fixation, noting the way your eyes have that light in them and you speak with such passion about it. 

“Hey, I’M the one who’s artistic!”

Completely misinterprets it at first, but immediately realises his mistake once you repeated yourself. Being in the art space, he’s come across a few artists who had communicated about their experience within their work. Even with his limited knowledge, he’s eager to find out more. Maybe even be an inspiration for another piece. Referring to overstimulation as a tsunami makes him understand it better. Talk to him about autism in fishy terms please.

If there’s a certain texture you like, he’d incorporate it into his pieces upon the pretense of ‘being innovative’ within his art. 

Prepares an allocated room for your sensory accommodations. If you need white noise, the beach waves are just an added bonus. 

If you tend to speak in a blunt/matter-of-fact manner, he finds it very endearing and easier to tease you. Though, it can take him off guard sometimes depending on what you say.

Unconsciously picks up some of your stims. If you flap your hands around as a stim, he WILL call you a fish. Might also ask if you’re doing a mating ritual. Though, only if he’s sure that you’re in a mood for his comments.

Changes some of the ways he communicates to you so it’s more straight-forward/doesn’t rely on social cues.

You had best believe that this man would immediately provide a room in his base specifically catered toward your sensory needs. Essentially, it’s a personalised panic room. Here are the requirements he gave Luke and Kieran to organise:

A/C and Heating are completely adjustable

Dim/Gentle lighting

Couches, Beds, Beanbags

Weighted Blankets, Plushies

Soundproof Panelling

Shelves to store items regarding special interests

ALWAYS HAVE ADDITIONAL SET OF HEADPHONES!

Drawers for fidgets.

The twins, although their lore is quite limited, feel to me like they have ADHD. Otherwise, Sylus has a little bit of knowledge regarding some traits as they often overlap. Nonetheless, he will happily listen and have Mephisto take notes.

Finds the different thinking process a very valuable tool in his field of work. Sometimes you’d pick up on some random detail that not even Mephisto could recognise and he’d just smile to himself.

He empathises a lot with being the target of social outcasting, and if it does occur to you his heart will practically shatter. Resonates with you on a deeper level.

[hearts4hughes]

i NEED to hear rafe & readers experience w molly at coachellaa 🫶🏻

RAFECHELLA 2025

he’s done coke off way worse surfaces than the coachella grass, but somehow popping molly under a pink sky surrounded by girls in butterfly pasties has him raising his eyebrows.

you’re already feeling it before he even takes his. pupils blown, jaw loose, cheeks flushed like a sunset hit you directly.

rafe’s watching you like you’re an alien creature that descended from another dimension.

“babe,” you whisper, wide-eyed. “your face.”

he squints. “what about it?”

you gasp, touching his cheek like it’s sacred. “it’s so facey.”

he blinks. “okay, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

“and you’re made of angles. i can’t stop looking at you. oh my god. are you made of light?” your hands touch and squeeze his cheeks, poke his eyebrows, and brush over his lips.”

he laughs, despite himself, despite the fact that he still hasn’t taken his yet, and he’s already sweating just watching you melt into the dirt. your fishnets are ripped, there’s rhinestones stuck to your thighs, and you look like a fever dream.

he gives in.

of course he does.

twenty minutes later and he’s on the ground next to you, eyes wide, skin buzzing, clutching your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

“okay,” he says slowly. “i feel fucking insane. why do i feel so happy? i think i love everyone.”

“you love me,” you correct, pressing your face into his shoulder.

“yeah. yeah. obviously.” then a sudden feeling of doubt washed over him, “wait. do you love me in general or like only sometimes?”

you nod aggressively. “in general. and right now. and every second in between. and your hands are so big. holy shit.”

he looks down at them like they just appeared. “they’re huge.”

you both stare at his hands for way too long.

eventually you make it into the crowd, bouncing with the beat, limbs all over each other. rafe’s got both hands on your waist like you’ll float off without him. his shirt’s half off. your sunglasses are upside down. at one point he just stops walking, stares up at the lights, and goes,

“i wanna be a cloud.”

you gasp. “i’ll be rain. so we can kiss in the sky.”

he kisses you so hard your stomach flips.

you end up on the ground during a set change, laying on your backs, water bottle between you, sharing it like it’s the rarest champagne. he keeps brushing your hair out of your face like you’re glass.

“if you die first i’m gonna die second out of spite,” he says.

“okay romeo.”

“no i’m serious. we’re like… a package now. cosmic twin flames or whatever the fuck.”

“i can’t wait to remind you about this tomorrow.”

[keijisdolll]

#K. AKAASHI |

NSFW ( ＾◡＾)っ✂╰⋃╯

blurred lines . . . ❤︎

(i wrote this rly late at night so it kinda switches between second and third person + its my first time... dont mind pls ⛄︎)

to say you and keiji were just friends was a little... vague to say the least.

not even a little, absolute bullshit.

you two go way back; always at one another's homes every saturday or friday night, playing games with kotaro or just binging movies together- all that cute stuff. obviously, you two love each other, dare i say are in love with each other, but it's just never been a point of discussion. despite all the stolen glances, his obsession with kissing the top of your head or holding your hips, you guys have just … never talked about it.

it's not that you didn't want to talk about it, you wanted more than anything to do unspeakable things to that man for years now...who wouldn't?

but of course, all you could do every passing day was pray that something could magically change and you'd have his affection and sweet words to yourself every day. he probably has his reasons too for not just folding and confessing already. hopefully if he even reciprocates.

but when he asked you to be his roommate and share a dorm with him two years ago at the beginning of university, how could you tell someone so pretty no?

that pretty much never helped the increasing tension between you both - sexually, or romantically.... but hey, the no confessions game was still going strong.

even now, when keiji just returned back to your shared dorm from one of his later classes, he found you laid out on the plushness of the couch, your cutely decorated laptop resting on your bare thighs as you were wearing a cute pair of pajama shorts. a few short sentences on the illuminated screen of your laptop which screams to him that you were probably just assigned a research paper.

"new paper assigned n/n?" he hummed softly as he rested his bag on the floor near the door and taking off his shoes.

"mm yeah... only thing is that it's due in 2 days.." she huffed softly with a little pout, a face he knew meant she was stressed.

"yeah? how much words is it?" he hummed softly, sitting next to her laid body on the couch.

y/n turned her laptop to an angle keiji can see it, an email from her professor which explained her prompt and the word count.

damn.

"only two days? that has to be a mistake." he raised his brows, adjusting his glasses.

"its not..." she sighed softly. "i asked him about it in class. he was dead serious keiji...my grade is so done. i don't even know what to write about. all i got done was the context." y/n turned to him, a pout on her lips.

he sighed, "calm down, okay? stressing out this much isn't gonna help you n/n." his hand went to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the apple of her cheek. damn him and his charm.

"come here, i'll help you." he murmured, his arms gently taking her arms to help her sit up and come up onto his lap.

and around 3 hours later, despite the evident exhaustion in both of you from this damn essay, you were a little more than half way through the word count.

"god...you're the best keiji..." she sighed softly, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

he chuckled, a familiar one that never really failed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. "can't have my favorite girl stressing now can i?" he ruffled her hair gently.

holy fuck.

why he made her sit in his lap was beyond her. all she knew was that his little name that he just called her made her clench around absolutely nothing, and she was so sick of this back and forth of trying to act like he didn't have an effect on her.

so she purposely squirmed on his lap while pretending to read an article, her ass moving teasingly but in a subtle way. she knew her subtle grinding didn't by any means go unnoticed by him, not how his slender fingers dug a little harder into her hips, and definitely not how his breathing grew more ragged.

"hey... n/n... you're squirming a little...please... it's distracting me..." he spoke with a strained voice, trying not to breathe noticeably.

"hm..?" she looked back at him, who knew how worked up subtle grinding can get him, his cheeks were insanely flushed, his fingers uncontrollably going on her bare thighs.

"come... get off n/n-" he panicked a little, his arms pulling up her torso to pick her up and trying to place her back onto the couch, but she went right back down, on his fucking bulge.

"oh fuck.." he choked out quietly his head going back against the arm rest.

"you're that hard from me barely even grinding?" she started. no turning back now for her. and to her surprise, all those years of chasing and wondering if he wanted her back... she felt so relieved from his next words.

"i can't fucking help it with you.." he swore helplessly. his needy hands guiding her hips to rub herself against his obvious bulge. "all this time and you don't think that i've been wanting to kiss you senseless since highschool..?"

and from that, her lips were on his, sharing wet and sloppy kisses that were making him leak pre cum into his sweatpants. grinding on his lap so nicely that she had him cursing into their sloppy kiss.

they eventually pulled away, a thin string of saliva between their mouths as her arms came up around his neck to steady herself as she ground on his bulge. gosh, his fucking print was so visible to her too from his sweatpants.

"fuck...i love you keiji.."

and within less than two minutes, your cute pajama shorts laid on the floor of your bedroom along with his sweatpants.

his hand held a handful of your hair while his other rested on the plush curve of your ass. his hips were thrusting so good into your drenched cunt, the room practically filled with the sound of your plush ass slapping against his hips and your muffled moans as he just sweet talked you.

damm him.

"god... you dont know how long i wanted to fuck you.." he panted into your ear, his skin slick with sweat

"keiji..." she cried helplessly beneath him.

"mhm baby... i got you...taking my cock so well." he murmured, his large hand squeezing her ass softly.

"you're so fucking pretty n/n, you know that?" he mumbled, placing sweet kisses and sucking hickeys onto her neck, his thrusts getting harder.

she couldn't even form a coherent sentence anymore. it's not like he was being crazy rough, but his cock was fucking long. and at a moderate, more fast pace like what he was doing, she felt as if she was seeing stars.

"ah...mmph..." she moaned sweetly into the pillow, knowing he was about to cum from how sloppy his thrusts were getting.

"mmh... there you go... oh fuck baby.." he panted, pulling out. his hand that was holding your hair let go, pumping slowly as thick and hot cum landed on your plush ass.

she panted softly into the pillows, her hips lowering from where he held them up as she rolled onto her back, his cum on her skin getting onto the sheets.

he panted soflty, pulling her into his arms and pressing a gentle loving kiss on her shoulder, while mumbling a soft, "i've always loved you baby."

its my first time writing so pls leave tips jjfnjjngjngjngjtn

[faebeeboo]

Rating: NSFW, Smut

Type: One-shot

Tags: Reader has Boobs, Reader has a Vagina, No pronouns for Reader, Friends to Lovers, Secret Crush, Flirty Reader, Young Ford Pines, Ford Pines is Trying, Reader kind of flashes Ford, Dry Humping, Nipple Play, Enthusiastic Consent, Intercrural Sex, Porn with Feelings, Insecure Ford Pines, Implied Virgin Reader

Word Count: 5,229

Read on AO3

Tired of hiding your feelings for Ford, you arrange for a surprise. You order the prettiest thing you can find from a magazine catalogue and prepare for a dramatic and bold move to spur him into action.

You sauntered across the lawn, sweat clinging to your chest and forehead in the sticky, humid air of the late summer evening.

The cabin you lived in, just outside of town, wasn’t a very far walk from your friend’s little shack in the woods.

Friend. You supposed that was what Stanford Pines was to you, though you were hoping to change that today.

The two of you had met when he’d been caught in one of the manotaur’s traps. You’d found him hanging upside down by the ankle, arms flailing and glasses on the ground under his head.

There’s really no good way to get someone out of a snare trap like that one. They weren’t created with the victim’s wellbeing or safety in mind, and so releasing them without causing harm… it was nearly impossible.

So, you’d picked up his glasses to get them out of the way, then climbed up onto the tree just enough to reach up and slash at the rope, releasing him so he landed with his legs sprawled over his head, practically folded in half.

Knowing what you did now about how blind he was without his glasses, you could only imagine what it all must have looked like to him: you, a blur, walking up and putting your hands on your hips, staring as he spun in place, upside down. Then immediately scaling the tree and slicing through the rope in one fell swoop.

The minute you’d returned his glasses, he had blinked several times to bring you into focus, head still spinning from remaining bottom up for so long. Then he had promptly turned even more red than he already was from all the blood having rushed to his head.

He’d since described you as seeming very ‘heroic’ in that moment, after a glass of wine or two too many, shared over a game of cards.

You had already spent a good chunk of your life in Gravity Falls by that point, so you’d already become familiar with the ins and outs of the weirdness of life in the little town. It was just another day for you, while he was still discovering all the strange rules one had to live by here where it seemed like up was down and left was right.

Now, you were crossing over the gravel drive to his house, the ground crunching under your slip-on shoes. The trench coat you wore didn’t help with the heat, but it was essential for your dramatic plan.

See, your friend was easily flustered. The thing was, you weren’t certain if that was because he was actually attracted to you or because he was awkward around anything that moved. You’d once witnessed him trade a gnome a jar of butterflies for one of their bags of fairy dust.

The gnome had told him, ‘Enjoy your fairy dust!’ and Ford had said, ‘You too!’ before cringing at his own mistake. He’d laid face-down on the couch for hours after that.

Now, you were determined to get to the bottom of this once and for all, whether it meant rejection or the realization of the guilty imaginings you engaged in late at night, alone in your bed. 

Stepping up to the porch, you knocked on the door. There were footsteps that gradually got closer before Ford swung open the door, eyebrows raising when he saw you there.

He said your name. “I wasn’t expecting you. I am surprised, but, uh…” Ford blushed lightly and adjusted his glasses. “I am still pleased to see you.”

Smiling, you made your way past him into the entryway. He stammered around for a moment, closing the door and managing, “Uh, would you… Could I get you anything to drink? Or, um… a snack, perhaps?”

You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Yes, something to drink would be lovely.” Feeling bold, you shot him a wink. “You know what I like.”

Ford turned bright red, shuffling back and forth for a moment as if he’d forgotten the way to the kitchen. “Yes, er… I, uh, I’ll— Let me just go get that for you.”

He rushed off, seemingly remembering how to get to the fridge, and you drifted slowly into the living area.

It was a bit cluttered, which was pretty typical of his living spaces, you were learning. There was hardly a clear spot on the counter when you came over to make dinner, and dirty mugs sat on nearly every surface. 

You took a seat on the couch, running your hands over the rough, worn fabric to calm your nerves. It was familiar and comforting, and the coarse texture distracted you from what you were about to do. If it went poorly, your self-esteem would likely be destroyed, along with your friendship. You’d slink off somewhere and bury yourself so deep that the next time you saw sunlight, you’d hiss and squint up at it like you were sizzling in its heat, an ant under a microscope.

Ford returned holding a can of soda, which you gratefully took from him. You popped it open and took a sip of the sugary, carbonated drink, licking it from your lips.

While you sipped, Ford shuffled nervously and sat at the other end of the couch. “It’s… It’s nice of you to stop by. Was there anything in particular you needed?”

Here it was, the moment of truth; time to set up for your big reveal. You sat the can of soda aside on the end table by the couch. 

“Well…” you uncrossed your legs and didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the motion. Toying with the tie around your trench coat, you continued, “I wanted your opinion on something.”

“M-my… my opinion?” he asked, swallowing hard and shifting slightly on the couch. “What, uh… what can I help you with?”

“The thing is, I got this new outfit from a magazine.” Subtly, you shifted closer on the couch. “Only, I’m not sure how I feel about it, now that it’s here. So I was hoping you’d tell me what you think of it.”

He chuckled nervously, eyes darting away. “I hardly think I’m the best person to… Well, I’m not the best judge of fashion.” Ford cleared his throat, shuffling a little to the side to face you more fully. “And I— I wouldn’t want to say anything that might… offend you.”

“Oh, come on, Ford,” you waved a hand at him and scooted even closer, less subtle this time. “I trust your opinion.”

“Alright,” he nodded, seeming to square his shoulders and lift his chin like he was preparing to be hit. “Then… perhaps you could describe it to me, and I’ll let you know what I think.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “Oh no, I’m wearing it right now, Ford. Under this.” You gestured towards the trench coat. 

His eyes widened, darting down to where you were toying with the tie around your waist. “U-under..?”

Fiddling with his hands, he glanced away. “Well, I uh… I suppose, if you’re comfortable showing me, I could… give it a look and offer my, um… my assessment.”

“Great!” you smiled, getting to your feet.

With more dramaticism than necessary, you walked a little ways from the couch, facing the opposite direction. Tugged loose the waistband, unbuttoned the front. The whole time, you felt Ford’s eyes on your back, the room charged with nervous energy, like a live wire sparked and sputtered against the floor. 

You opened the sides of the trench coat, revealing your outfit first to the bookshelves on the other side of the room. Then in one smooth, practiced motion, you turned to face him and let the trench coat drop to the floor behind you.

There was the sound of Ford’s sharp intake of breath, and you saw his hands at his sides clench, grabbing fistfuls of the couch fabric. He lifted his tense shoulders and sat with his feet on tiptoes, knees raised higher like he just needed to tense every muscle he had at his disposal. 

The piece of lingerie you wore was relatively modest, the kind that made a partner desperate, showing just enough skin to tease without baring it all. The bra cups were designed to clip in the front, pressing your breasts together and making for a display of cleavage you hoped would be irresistible. Lace trim ran over the top, and there was a tiny, delicate bow at the center, between your breasts. It flared out into translucent material directly underneath your cups.

Ford was silent, his eyes immediately going to your cleavage, then your bared stomach, then your cleavage again before darting away like he couldn’t decide where to look. “I-it’s, uh… a really lovely outfit,” he practically croaked.

“Now, Stanford Pines, how could you possibly know that?” Your hands went to your hips. “You barely even looked at it.”

He swallowed hard, and suddenly he seemed fascinated by the plaid wallpaper. “I’m simply trying to be respectful.” His voice sounded weak. “I don’t want to stare, or make you… uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’m asking you to look,” you said softly. “So why would I be uncomfortable?”

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the apparent charm of the wall and looked at you. He seemed to slowly drink in the outfit, his grip on the couch cushions tightening.

“You look…” His voice came out breathier than intended, so he cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and tried again. “You look beautiful.”

Before you could comment or show your delight beyond a pleased smile, he stumbled on ahead, speaking rapidly.

“I mean, that color suits your skin tone perfectly, and the design is masterful, it’s a delicate piece, really pretty, I like the placement of the bow on the front, I wonder kind of fabric they used to get that translucent effect, you said you got it from a magazine so how did you know the sizing would be correct?”

It was all just one big run-on sentence. That was what Ford tended to do when he got this ramped up on nervous energy.

Getting closer, you stepped forward til your knees nearly touched his. That shut him up. You were close enough that he could reach out and touch you now, if he could just find the nerve.

“I’m glad you like it,” you whispered, shifting your chest a little, folding your hands in front of you and using your arms to press your breasts together. 

His eyes followed where you told them to go, trailing down to your cleavage, and he swallowed hard, a slave to your whims. Ford seemed to be frozen in place for the moment, his mouth hanging open, this dull look in his eyes like that brilliant brain of his had stopped working for once. 

You watched him swallow hard again and try to speak, but all that escaped him was a little huff that sounded suspiciously like a whine.

Feeling emboldened by his reaction, you stepped even closer, leaning in to place your hands on either side of his legs. He leaned back, but not to get away. No, instead he leaned back to make room for you, eyes darting up to yours before moving back down to your breasts hanging in front of him.

“I bought it for you, y’know,” you murmured, and you didn’t miss the hitch in his breath.

His eyes darted up to meet yours. “M-m-m-me?” he practically squeaked, his voice several octaves higher than normal. 

“Yep,” you cooed, popping the ‘p’ and smiling alluringly. “‘S all for you. No one else gets to see me in it.”

Ford blinked rapidly up at you, his eyes darting once again down to your chest.

“How does that make you feel?”

The poor man actually wheezed a little, looking to the side as if for some unknown rescuer, some device that could keep his eyes from orbiting your breasts, dangling in front of him like a carrot on a stick.

“I-I-I… I’m not sure what to say,” he finally stammered, gaze returning to where you wanted it. His fingers twitched against the couch, like he wanted to reach out but was holding himself back.

“It’s okay,” you purred. “You can touch.”

With a broken, guttural groan, he surged forward, his lips finding the swell of your breasts where he began mouthing along your skin. You were surprised by his fervor, but quickly recovered, your hand moving to the back of his head encouragingly as he opened his mouth wide, tongue hanging out, and licked a stripe along both breasts, moaning pathetically as he did.

His hands found your waist, drawing you closer and dragging you into his lap. His instincts seemed to take over, telling his body what to do as he shifted his hips upwards, letting you feel the excitement between his legs.

“W-wait,” you panted, pulling back slightly, breathing heavily despite your mouth not having been nearly as active as his. He pulled off your breast with a pop, leaving a red mark behind, his mouth still hanging open and eyes glassy.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am thoroughly enjoying what you’re doing,” you whispered, reaching out to cup his face. “I just… want to make sure you know what you’re doing. Y’know, before we… commit.”

He whispered your name with enraptured devotion, tilting his head to press his cheek against your hand. “I never even dreamed… I mean, never in a million years… I wouldn’t have ever guessed that someone like you would be interested in someone like me.”

“What do you mean by ‘someone like you’?” you asked, frowning and gently caressing his stubbled jaw.

Ford blushed and looked away, stammering, “W-well, I just… you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, blinking rapidly as he looked fixedly at your shoulder, brushing his fingers along it in a featherlight touch. “And I’m so… awkward. Socially stunted.” His eyes met yours again. “A geek.”

“That might be true,” you brushed his hair back from his forehead, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss there, “but you are also kind, and sweet, and so handsome.”

Swallowing hard, he met your gaze with wide eyes. “You… You think I’m handsome?”

“Of course I do,” you murmured, running your fingers along his jaw, then trailing your thumbs back over his cheekbones. “You’ve got a strong jaw, broad shoulders, thick lashes… and don’t even get me started on those big brown eyes.”

He batted said big brown eyes up at you, then you were rewarded with a lopsided grin. His hands tightened their grip on your waist.

“So you like me?”

“Yes, Ford. I do. I really do.”

“Woah.”

There was a pause where he just stared for a few moments before you nervously cleared your throat and wet your lips.

“Do, uh… Do you like me, too?”

Ford’s eyes went wide again, and he tilted his head back, leaning forward to gaze earnestly up at you. “Of course I do!” His tone mirrored your earlier one, when he asked disbelievingly for confirmation that you found him handsome. “You’re beautiful, and confident, and I’d trust you with my life. I guess I kind of have a few times. Like that run-in with the Mega Ultra Super Ducks…” He shuddered.

You had named that one. He’d insisted he wasn’t going to use it, but hadn’t been able to come up with a punny name to replace it. He’d told you it would be a ‘filler name’ until he came up with the real one, but you’d seen him writing it in his journal.

“So…” you whispered, dropping your chin and looking down at his lips.

“So,” he repeated quietly, voice low and rough.

It was unclear which of you leaned in first, but suddenly you were kissing. It was sloppy, but he was eager and his hands were on you so you couldn’t complain.

God, those hands. You’d been dreaming of them for as long as you’d known him, imagining them on your skin, touching you in places no one else had been, at least not for a long time.

Now it was real, your imagination come to life in front of you. Six fingers made for an impossibly wide hand, and they rubbed down your waist before finally going down to cup your ass and drag you closer.

You let out an approving hum against his lips, shifting in his lap. The tiniest movement of your hips drew a groan from him, which you happily swallowed down, your mouths moving in sync.

He reached up, hand pressing between your shoulder blades. He absentmindedly twisted one of the bows between his thumb and finger, and the lingerie came loose, falling forward.

Ford jumped, eyes going wide, and he drew as far away as he could with you still in his lap.

“I am so sorr—”

“No, it’s fine,” you breathed, letting the top fall forward and flashing him a grin. “It’s made to come off easily.”

His pupils visibly blew when his gaze fixed on your now-bare breasts. Slowly leaning forward, he glanced up at you, watching for any signs of discomfort or protest. When you voiced none, he leaned all the way in and pressed a gentle kiss to your nipple.

The feathery touch of his lips there sent a shudder through you, and you reached up to clutch the back of his neck. He continued just peppering the gentlest kisses there, his hands just as gentle on your waist.

It was driving you crazy. His hands, his lips, all on you but not enough; there was no friction, his touch barely there, just skimming over you like he’d scald himself if he got too close. 

You threaded your fingers through his hair and clenched your hand into a fist, tugging hard enough to draw a gasp from him and make him lean his head back to look up at you.

His eyes were almost black with desire, and he was panting softly, cheeks flushed and glasses askew.

“Ford,” you shifted, grinding your hips down against his and watching his eyes roll back, lashes fluttering at the most minuscule bit of stimulation. “If you don’t touch me harder than that, I’m gonna lose it.”

He blinked owlishly up at you, then shook his head, his glasses falling back into place. “Sorry, I don’t… entirely understand. You… You do want me to touch you harder, or you don’t?”

“I do,” you insisted, tugging harder on his hair.

“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t sure, because you said if I didn’t, you’d ‘lose it’ and I wasn’t sure if that was meant as a positive expression or—”

You shut him up with a kiss.

He made no complaint, obediently opening his mouth when you pressed your tongue to his lips. You were teasing him by dipping it in and retracting, reveling in the little whine he made, trying to chase after it by gripping your hips and leaning closer so you were nearly bent backwards.

Teeth scraped your lower lip, lightly dragging over your skin, and you moaned into the kiss, both hands moving to his shoulders as you shuffled forward, closer, trying to mold your body to his. 

Finally, he seemed to be getting more warm in his shoes, and his lips trailed down your jaw, to your neck, collarbone, and finally dragging along the curve of your breast. He hesitated over your nipple, leaning his head back to look at you. His glasses had fogged up, and you would have laughed at that if you weren’t so unbelievably wired right then.

“Could I..?” Ford trailed off, eyes darting back down.

“God, please,” you groaned, then grabbed his head and dragged him forward until his face was buried between your breasts.

He moaned, turning his face to mouth at the side of it, tongue out and lapping at your skin. You had a fleeting thought that your skin was a little sweaty from the trench coat you’d donned in the oppressive summer heat, but any worries you may have had died when his lips latched on and sucked.

Your thighs jolted on either side of him and a gasp left your lips. Arching, you felt Ford’s hands slide along your bare back, up to your shoulder blades, pressing you closer and opening his mouth wider, like he couldn’t get enough.

Ford continued lapping and sucking, and you were so caught up in the feeling that at first you didn’t notice him thrusting up against nothing, until he whimpered softly.

Pulling away just enough to look down at him, you slid your hand under his chin to make him gaze up at you, his brown eyes glassy.

“Ford… I don’t want to rush straight into this and, um… go all the way,” you murmured, biting your lip.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “I understa—”

“But,” you continued, pressing a finger to his lips to shush him, “…there are other ways to have fun together.”

The shuddering breath that left his lips then was like a reward, paired with the way he shivered and his hips twitched. 

“Alright.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and you watched with rapt attention. His voice was low and raspy, and it cracked a little on his next question. “What, uh… what did you have in mind?”

You leaned forward to whisper into his ear. His eyes slowly widened, but he nodded, his voice utterly broken when he whispered, “Okay.”

The two of you were a little unevenly dressed, so you sat back and let him unbutton his shirt with shaking, six-fingered hands.

He seemed eager and enthusiastic enough, just a bit nervous. It was to be expected, and you could relate because you were feeling the same tornado of emotions.

You’d liked him for so long now, pining after him and watching him talk and talk, sometimes about concepts that made you feel like your brain had been stuck in a deep-frier and left to get crispy, but you listened because you loved to see him passionate about something. It didn’t matter if you didn’t understand—telling you about it made him happy.

What if this sucks? What if you’ve built it up too much in your head and it’s not all you dreamed it’d be?

You shoved those anxious thoughts down, stuffing them back in the potty you fished them out of and flushing. It was going to be good not because of the act itself, but because it was Ford. There were emotions involved, and you were already unbelievably horny for this man.

Ford had the shirt fully unbuttoned now, still hanging on his shoulders. He reached down to start on his slacks.

Now, you watched as he popped the button loose and unzipped it. Already you could see the tent in his underwear, erection straining to get loose.

His eyes flickered up to your rapt attention before he slowly slid the pants down his thighs. You sat up on your knees, giving him room to kick off the offending garment.

When only Ford’s underwear remained, you glanced up at him with an enthusiastic sort of impatience. Seeing the anticipation in your expression, he laughed nervously before slowly, agonizingly slowly, sliding the band of his white briefs down. His erection sprang up, eager to join the party.

Grinning and meeting his eye, you reached out, but paused and waited for his say so. At his nod, you pressed a finger to the leaking tip.

Curiously, you rolled the bead of liquid between your thumb and forefinger. Then you sucked those fingers clean.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, lashes fluttering and head falling back with a broken sigh of your name. “You’re going to kill me. I am going to have a heart attack and die.”

“Oh, come on, Ford,” you popped your finger loose from your lips, eyes training on the new bead of liquid that had sprung forth to replace the previous. “This is new for me, too. I’m just exploring all my options, like a true scientist.”

Ford’s cheeks flushed, and he peered at you over his glasses. You knew from experience that he couldn’t see anything without them, unless he got really close.

Without warning, you wrapped a hand around him and pumped slowly down. His hips jolted upwards and a shaky, surprised breath left his parted lips.

“H-hey,” he whimpered with a shaking voice. “If…” Ford paused to swallow, seeming to have a bit of trouble with it. “If you want to do that thing you mentioned… we’re gonna have to start, before I, um…”

Catching his meaning, you grinned, very pleased with yourself. Your nerves had practically evaporated and left only anticipation in their wake. 

Still, you had mercy and released your hold on him. “Lay back for me,” you murmured, gently pressing him down to a reclined position, sideways on the couch. You remained hovering over his lap, sitting up on your knees and toying with your lacy bottoms.

They definitely weren’t an everyday pair of underwear—they were pretty uncomfortable—but Ford seemed to like them, judging by his expression.

Lips parted, eyes fixed on the bit of hair visible over the low-riding panties. His hands came up slowly on either side of your thighs until they rested on your hips, thumb brushing against the fabric.

His adam’s apple bobbed, and he glanced up at you for… consent? Encouragement? You weren’t entirely sure, but you gave him both.

“Go ahead,” you murmured, caressing his jaw. “It’s alright.”

Moving at a crawling pace that had you reveling in the tenderness of the moment while also wishing he’d just tear the damn things off of you, he drew the underwear down, letting out a shuddering breath once it was clear of your hips and he could really see you.

The angle didn’t allow for him to see your already-dripping heat, but he still seemed fascinated, hand moving inward and thumb pressing gently into the dip between the lips. The little bit of stimulation made you inhale sharply, head falling back on a sigh.

He seemed to grow more confident then; though you could hear him gulp, he gripped your hips and dragged you down closer to his lap.

Slowly, you sank down, not taking him in, just letting his cock slot between your folds and gently rubbing back and forth. After so much buildup, you swore you were going to finish right away, but you changed your pace to slow its approach.

“Ohhhh goddddd,” Ford moaned, head falling back, and you swore you’d never heard anything hotter than a super-genius losing his cool, all because you were rubbing your pussy against him. He whispered your name, grip on your hips tightening.

He began guiding your movements, back and forth, though occasionally you rolled in a circle that had the head of his cock catching on your clit in a way that made both of you moan.

“Ford,” you murmured, breathing heavily and leaning down to press your forehead to his, the movement of your hips shifting you up and down.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whimpered, gazing up at you through foggy glasses. His hands came up to massage and knead your breasts, and you hummed approvingly, eyes squeezing closed. You weren’t going to last long at this rate.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Ford breathed, cupping your face. “Please. I want to see you.”

Lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes again, gazing down into his soulful brown ones, so deep you swore that if you looked too far, you’d get lost and never come up for air. 

That actually didn’t sound too bad. Air was overrated anyway.

You didn’t have to worry about trying to stave off your own impending orgasm to make it last, because Ford suddenly came with no warning.

It shot up and splattered on his belly, sticking in the brown hairs there and painting them a shiny off-white. His body twitched underneath you, and he cried out, head falling back, mouth open wide. He was panting, arms now splayed up over his head on the couch cushion.

Dear God. It was, by far, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. You tensed up and hunched forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder and slowing as your own orgasm began crashing over you, prolonging the waves of pleasure by riding them out on Ford’s cock.

It was a mess. There was an uncomfortable wetness between your legs, and his spend was all in his body hair. But you didn’t want to move, wishing you could just stay there, lying naked with him and ignoring whatever obligations you both had forever.

Despite the hint of discomfort, the closeness was worth it. You sighed happily and settled with your head against his shoulder, hunched down to avoid full contact.

Eventually though, you had to get up because you were putting his legs to sleep, and you couldn’t lay flat on his chest to relieve the pressure without making it worse by getting his come all over you and rubbing it into the hair even more.

Disentangling yourself, you looked down at his now-soft cock, curious. You stuck a finger under it and lifted slightly, watching it flop back down.

Ford’s eyes went wide and he stuttered your name. You just laughed. “What? I’m a scientist.”

“You’re a menace, is what you are,” he mumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and carefully getting up. The shuffle that ensued was a little awkward, both of you trying to clean up the messes you had made, but it was also so endearing and so real.

This was what it meant, to be that close to someone else. It wasn’t always hot and heavy makeout sessions and smooth movements; sometimes it was clumsily fumbling around for something to clean yourself with, feeling a little weird about walking through someone’s house naked but feeling giddy with the thought that it could become more familiar.

You could end up regularly doing things like this with Ford. Not just the sexy things, but kissing and cuddling and getting up before him to make breakfast, only to have him wake up halfway through and wrap his arms around you from behind.

…Okay, maybe you were idealizing it a little. But you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation, like you couldn’t wait to see where things went from here.

A bit more talking was in order, defining the relationship and having a chat about expectations, but for now… For now, you were just enjoying watching the way he frowned with a cute little wrinkle between his knit brows, the little bit of a double chin he had as he looked down to wipe himself clean with a tissue.

It was all so casual. You were ecstatic.

Ford noticed you watching him and glanced up. His cheeks slowly and steadily turned red, eyes darting to the side.

“Wh… What is it?”

You shrugged. “Nothing.”

Crossing the room, you wrapped your arms loosely around his waist and gazed up at him. “I just think you’re cute.”

Ford’s blush deepened, but he gently reached up to cup your cheek before reconsidering, letting his hand drop to your shoulder as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Oh yeah. You could get used to this.

[rentenier3148]

Held Together By Memory

Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You both were torn from 1940s Brooklyn and remade into killers. But when memories begin to bleed through, a second chance is ignited.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Warnings: Fluff. Some smut. Angst. Slow burn (?). Some canon divergence for the plot. No use of y/n. Language (sorry Steve)

A.N: I've written fanfics before but that was a long time ago and not on here (wattpad was definitely something in the early 2010s...). I've been feeling inspired lately so I wanted to give it a go again, so this'll be my first time writing in over 10 years!

Chapter 2

✪──────•••──────✪

Brooklyn, New York - 1943

The morning sun slants over the rooftops, catching pavement and lending a glow to even the greyest parts of the city. The neighborhood is already alive with noise—kids playing stickball, radios blaring Benny Goodman, and somewhere down the block, Mrs. Caputo is yelling at her cat.

You're walking fast, your skirt fluttering with every step as you chase after the two silhouettes ahead of you.

"Bucky!" you call out, a little out of breath.

He turns, grinning—his hair slicked back just enough to look cocky, his uniform jacket slung over one shoulder. Steve, thin as a twig beside him, gives you a tired smile.

" Are you followin' us, sweetheart?" Bucky teases, slowing down so you can catch up. Bucky raises his eyebrow, his smirk widening as he tosses his jacket over his other shoulder.

"I'm not following, I'm supervisin'," you say with a sweet, mock-serious tone, reaching out to take his hand.

His fingers Curl around yours like it's the most natural thing in the world. That warmth—rough palms, familiar weight—it sends butterflies through your chest.

Steve chuckles behind you. "She's not wrong. If anyone can keep Buck from flirting with the recruiting nurse, it's you."

Bucky shoots him a look "Hey! I was just bein' polite last time okay?" Then he leans down toward you, voice a little softer. "But... you supervisin' me now? That official?"

The street starts to open up ahead. Just down the block, you can already see the line forming outside the enlistment center. The building looms like a symbol of everything that's about to change.

Bucky's hand tightens around yours—just for a second. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head like you've just knocked the wind out of him—in the best way.

"It is now, Sergeant Barnes," you say with a cheeky little grin, bumping your shoulder into his arm.

He gives you that look—the one he only ever gives you. the one that softens the edge of his cocky smirk and lingers a little too long, like he's memorizing your face even as he laughs.

"You know," he murmurs, lowering his voice so Steve doesn't hear, "if I'm goin' off to war with that in my head... might be the only reason I survive it."

Ahead, the line's moving slowly. Posters flap against the brick walls: "I Want YOU for U.S. Army", "Loose Lips Sink Ships". Every few seconds, the door cracks open and another hopeful soldier walks in—some proud, some scared stiff.

Steve exhales deeply. He looks pale but determines. Bucky squeezes your hand, then lets go as they step up next in line.

Just as Bucky takes that first step forward toward the door, you reach out—fingers brushing over the fabric of his sleeve. He stops instantly, turning back to you like your touch alone carries more weight than the sergeant waiting inside.

His eyes scan your face, and for a second, Brooklyn noise fades. You don't know what to say. there's so much in your chest it's hard to untangle a single sentence.

but before you can get the words out—

"Careful, Buck," Steve pipes up behind him, his voice dry, laced with that quiet Brooklyn humor. "She might be tryin' to get you outta this with those puppy eyes again."

Bucky glances over his shoulder, grinning. "Wouldn't blame her. Look at me—how could she not?"

Steve groans. "If I throw up, I'm blaming both of you."

You laugh through the tightness in your chest. Then you life your gaze to Bucky's, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise me you'll come back. I don't care how tired, how bruised, how broken—just come back."

Bucky's smile fades into something real. Something raw. He leans in just slightly, his forehead brushing yours.

"I will. I swear, doll. For you? Always."

The door creaks again. It's their turn.

Bucky lets go. Steve offers you a small, kind nod before stepping through the doorway.

And then—They're gone inside.

✪──────•••──────✪

You lean against the brick wall, sliding down slowly until you're perched on the edge of the curb. You open up your top handle bag and see your cigarette box. You quit a couple days ago and with the anxiety building up inside you, you're tempted.

You close the bag the same time the door behind you shuts again. Another boy walks in. Another maybe never coming out the same.

A presence leans over you, "psst!"

You glance behind you.

It's Virginia "Ginny" Russo—short curls tucked under a scarf, wearing a too-thin coat and scuffed boots. Her eyeliner's smudged like maybe she cried earlier, but her chin's lifted like she's daring the world to say something about it.

She flops down beside you without waiting for an invitation.

"Mind if I join you?" she asks, already lighting it. "Tommy just went in."

You nod, offering a soft smile. "Bucky and Steve too."

Ginny leans her head against the brick. "They all act like it's no big deal. Like they're walking into a bar and not the army."

You give a big sigh, wishing you didn't quit smoking so that you can calm down. "Bucky swore he'd come back."

Ginny didn't quit however, she flicks her cigarette box open and lights up one. She exhales smoke, "Mine did too. Ain't it funny how promises sound easier when you're not on the battlefield yet?"

You glance sideways at Ginny, flicking ash into the gutter.

"Didn't expect Tommy to enlist," you say, genuinely surprised. "He always seemed more like the jukebox-and-pool-hall type. Not exactly the... you know. Rifle and foxhole kind."

Ginny laughs—short and breathy, like it caught her off guard. "You and every damn person on the block." She shakes her head, eyes fixed ahead. "he said it hit him when that telegram came for his cousin. Said he couldn't sit around playin' poker while other people were dying."

You nod slowly, letting the words settle in the space between you.

She glances at you then, eyes narrowing just slightly. "And what about you, sweetheart?" Her voice softens. "How're you holdin' up with Bucky goin' in?"

You hesitate for a moment.

"I'm scared." The words came out before you can overthink them. "Not just for him getting hurt. I'm scared he won't come back the same. That he'll see things that'll change the way he looks at me. Or... that maybe one day he'll stop writing, and I'll be stuck memorizing the last letter like it's gospel."

Ginny's quiet for a beat, then she nudges your arm with her. "Bucky Barnes? Forget it. That boy'd take on the whole war just to keep your name on his tongue."

You try to laugh, but your throat feels tight.

"He held my hand," you murmur, your voice a little distant now. "Right before he went in. And he said he'd come back for me. Swore it."

Ginny looks at you long, like she's weighing your words with her heart.

"Then he will. That's the kinda man he is."

Behind you, the door to the enlistment building creaks again. You both freeze, heads turning. It's not Bucky, Steve or Tommy. Just another boy with shaking hands and a fresh set of papers.

The wait stretches on.

✪──────•••──────✪

After a long while, the door to the enlistment building creaks again.

This time—two figures step out, blinking into the sunlight.

It's them.

You and Ginny lock eyes the moment you spot them—and just like that, you're giggling like schoolgirls caught passing notes in church.

"Quick, act like we weren't just planning weddings and naming future babies," Ginny says, stubbing out her cigarette on the pavement.

"Too late," you grin. "Pretty sure Bucky can smell my heart beating from across the street while Stevie is puking somewhere."

You both straighten your skirts, smooth your hair like it matter, then fall into step together with practiced ease—the kind of walk that says we're calm, composed, not at all the mess we were two minutes ago.

Steve spots you first and gives you a sheepish wave, already loosening the collar of his shirt. He looks pale but proud.

Bucky... his eyes find yours before anything else.

And there it is again—that look. The one where the whole world falls away and it's just the two of you in the middle of a Brooklyn street like something out of a movie reel. The corner of his mouth lifts just slightly.

He's trying to act casual. But his eyes are loud with relief.

"So?" Ginny pipes up, folding her arms as you reach them. "Are we gettin' our army husbands or what?"

Steve chuckles, "they said we passed. We ship out soon."

Your breath catches—just for a second. But you don't let it show.

Bucky slips his hand into yours like he never wants to let go.

"Didn't think they'd take ol' Stevie here," he jokes, but his thumb is tracing little circles against your palm. "But we're in. Both of us."

Ginny whistles low. "Well, look at you two, all drafted and dangerous."

Steve grins. Bucky looks at you.

"You alright, doll?" he asks softly.

You swallow the ache in your throat and press a soft smile to your lips—one just for him.

"I'm proud of you," you say, steady despite the tremble trying to creep into your voice. "Both of you."

Bucky looks like he's trying to memorize that exact expression. "You sure?" he murmurs.

You nod. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna miss you like hell, but... yeah. I'm sure."

He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles like you're something precious. And for a second, Brooklyn fades again.

Then—the door creaks behind you.

Tommy Delaney steps steps out, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared with a new kind of weight. He stops Ginny and gives a two-fingered wave, that goofy grin plastered across his face like he didn't just sign his whole life over to Uncle Sam.

Ginny stares for a beat—then sighs, a half-laugh, half-exhale of disbelief.

"Well," she mutters to you, brushing her curls back and fixing her scarf, "there goes my last nerve."

She turns to you and wraps you in a tight hug, her voice soft in your ear. "I'll see you soon. Real soon. We'll keep each other sane, yeah?"

You nod, hugging her tighter. "Yeah. We'll need it."

She pulls back with a wink. "Tell Bucky to write, or I'll come knockin'. And if he doesn't marry you the second he gets back, I swear-"

You laugh through the lump in your throat. "Go get your soldier, Gin."

She turns and walks toward Tommy, Her hand slipping easily into his.

And just like that—you're alone again with Bucky and Steve, the wind tugging gently at your skirt, the sun already starting to dip.

you glance up at Buck, your fingers still laced with his, and your voice drops to something small and almost fragile.

"When do you leave?"

His smile falters just a little. Like he was hoping you wouldn't ask—at least not yet.

Steve looks away, giving you both a bit of space as he pretends to study a bus schedule that hasn't changed in months.

Bucky sighs through his nose, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.

"They gave us a week," he says softly. "Seven days, then we ship out."

Seven days.

It sounds both like a blessing and a curse. Enough time to hold him tight and make memories—but also just long enough to feel it when he's gone.

"I was hoping for more," he admits. "But... I'll take every second i can get if it means I'm with you."

The wind picks up again, carrying the scent of hot pretzels and cold iron. Somewhere, a kid shouts in the distance. Life keeps moving—oblivious.

You take a small step closer, your hand is still warm in his.

"Then let's make them count," you whisper, eyes searching his like you're trying to carve this moment into memory. "All seven of them."

Bucky stares at you a beat, like he's fighting the urge to fall into you right then and there. Then he smiles—soft and real—and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight.

"Yeah," he says. "Let's make 'em count."

Steve clears his throat gently behind you, rocking a little on his heels.

"Hey," he says, with that boyish smile that never quite hides the gentleness behind it. "I should be headin' home. Can't wait to tell Ma the news. I'll catch you two tomorrow?"

You both nod. Bucky gives him a friendly clap on the shoulder.

"We'll find you, punk," he says with a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles wider, gives you a small wave, and disappears into the crowd with that familiar, careful gait.

And just like that—

It's just you and Bucky again.

Bucky glances at you with that crooked grin that always makes your stomach flutter, like mischief and affection were stitched into the same smile.

"Wanna go to the diner?" he asks, voice light, but there's something soft behind it. "Your usual booth, your favorite milkshake—on me."

Your eyes light up. "Like you even need to ask."

✪──────•••──────✪

The bell over the door jingles as you step inside. The smell of grilled cheese and malted shakes wraps you like a memory. the lighting's soft, warm. Your booth's still open—like it waited for you.

You slide in, and Bucky follows, sitting close enough that your knees brush under the table. He orders before you can—"One strawberry milkshake, extra whipped cream, and a black coffee."

The waitress smirks like she's seen it all before. Probably has.

There's a lull between the clinking of plates and the low hum of a radio playing softly in the background. You glance at Bucky, noticing the way his brow together slightly, like he's chewing on something.

He finally speaks.

"I got to tell you something," he says, voice quieter now. "About Steve."

You sit up straighter.

He shifts, his fingers toying with a sugar packet. "They didn't accept him. Again. Said it was the asthma, and he's too small. He tried to brush it off, and I know him. He's breakin' on the inside."

Your heart aches. Steve—so brave, so full of fire, and still always being told he's not enough.

Bucky leans closer, lowering his voice.

"But today, I saw him talkin' to some guy. German I think. I overheard him sayin' somethin' about a 'super soldier serum program.' Said Steve was perfect for it."

You blink. "Perfect?"

Bucky nods, clearly still shaken. "Apparently, they're lookin' for someone with guts. Not muscle. Heart. And you know Steve... He's got more of that than any of us."

You're still trying to process it when he leans back with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Still don't trust it. Feels shaky. Government pokin' around with science like that? And with Nazis in the mix? Fuckin' Nazis, always lookin' for some unnatural way to win a war."

He glances at you again, this time a little more protective.

"If anything happens to Steve... I swear to God..." He trails off, clenching his jaw.

Your milkshake arrives—bright pink, extra whipped cream—and the weight of the conversation hangs between you both. You pick it up, taking a long, thoughtful sip—extra whipped cream brushing your lip—and then glance sideways at Bucky with a smirk curling at the corner of your mouth.

"Well..." you start, voice lilting with just enough mischief to catch his attention, "if Steve turns into a super soldier, he better not get taller than you. I'm already the short one here, Buck. I refuse to be the shrimp in the middle."

Bucky snorts mid-sip of his coffee, nearly choking. He sets the mug down with a grin, eyes crinkling. "You? Shrimp? Please. You've got more spine than either of us."

You shrug with mock modesty. "Spine, maybe. Height? I'm workin' with dollhouse dimensions here."

He laughs fully now, that soft, real kind of laugh that makes his eye light up and his whole face soften. He reaches over, thumb swiping a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth.

"God, I love you," he murmurs, like it slipped out without warning—natural and inevitable.

He freezes the moment he says it.

You feel your breath catch. The silence around the booth is so sudden, so complete, that even the radio's gentle hum seems miles away.

Bucky blinks, realizing what he said, and clears his throat.

"I mean... I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. I just..." He looks up at you again, eyes steady. "I do. I really love you."

You laugh—softly, gently—as if the weight of his words settled right into your chest like they'd always belonged there. You smile is full of warmth and wonder, eyes shining as you set your milkshake down with care.

"You know," you murmur, tilting your head slightly, "I always knew."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, caught somewhere between surprise and bashful defensiveness. "Knew what?"

You reach across the table, lacing your fingers with his. "how madly in love with me you are, Sergeant Barnes."

He exhales a half-laugh, eyes flicking down your joined hands, cheeks flushed just enough to make your heart flutter all over again.

"I'm not exactly subtle am I?"

"Not even a little," you tease, but then your voice softens as you add, "and I love you too, Bucky. with everything I got."

He looks at you then—really look at you—and it's like the world narrows down to his booth, your fingers tangled in his, and the strawberry milkshake slowly melting between you.

"You're gonna wreck me, doll," he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, reverent and unhurried. "I ain't even gone yet, and I already miss you."

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling and breaking all at once.

Outside, the sky's gone deep blue. Streetlights flicker on. You glance outside—the diner window blurred slightly with condensation, the street glowing gold under the streetlamps—and then back at Bucky.

"Walk me home?' you ask softly, already knowing the answer.

Bucky doesn't say anything right away—he nods, rising from the booth and reaching for your handlike it's instinct. You take it, of course, fingers fitting perfectly in his like they were made to. Like they always have.

he holds the door open for you as the bell chimes overhead, and you both step out into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now. Most of the kids have gone inside. Shops closing. But Brooklyn still hums, low and familiar.

your heels click gently against the pavement. Bucky slows his pace to match yours—not that he ever really had to.

For a long stretch, neither of you speak. His thumb rubs slow circles into the back of your hand. You pass old stoops and shuttering stores, streetlights causing your shadows long across the sidewalk.

finally he speaks, his voice low and close.

"You know, if the world was different... I'd marry you right now."

"the words stop you in your tracks. You look at him, eyes wide, heart thudding so hard you swear he can hear it.

bucky smiles, soft and sincere.

"No ring, no priest, just you and me and the moonlight. And I'd mean every damn word."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear again like he always does when he wants to say I adore you without actually saying it.

You look up at him, the streetlight painting golden halos around his dark hair, and for a moment, all the noise in the world goes still. Your voice is a whisper, but it carries everything you've been holding in your chest.

"Then promise me—" your fingers tighten gently around his, "when you come back, you'll ask me for real."

Bucky steps in closer, both hands now cradling your face like you're made of something unbreakable and holy all at once. His forehead leans into yours, and for a second, you feel his breath as he speaks.

"I promise," he whispers, firm, unshaking. "When I come back—first thing I do is ask you to be mine forever."

He presses a kiss to your forehead—slow, reverent—like it's the only thing anchoring him to the world.

✪──────•••──────✪

You and Bucky slow as you reach the stoop, his hand still wrapped in yours like he's reluctant to let go. The porch light casts a soft glow over the doorway, the quiet hum of the city buzzing low in the background.

You turn to face him, still holding his hand, your heart full to the brim with everything you couldn't say in words tonight.

And then—without hesitation and fanfare—you rise up on your toes, cup his jaw gently, and kiss him.

It's not rushed. It's not shy. It's the kind of kiss that says I love you, come back to me, and you're already mine all at once.

Bucky stills for a heartbeat before leaning into it fully, one hand at your waist, the other resting over yours like he's afraid to break the spell. His lips are soft, warm, tasting faintly of coffee and promise.

When you finally pull back, he's looking at you like you hung the stars above Brooklyn.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

His voice is rough, full of everything he's feeling. " 'Night, doll. Sweet dreams alright?"

You nod once, stepping back toward the door slowly.

He waits until you're inside before he turns to leave. And even as the door clicks shut behind you...

You can feel him still.

✪──────•••──────✪

I had to edit and cut out so many parts from my original document because I'm so worried about it being too long and redundant but I think it's fine T.T

[httpvomitello]

Magical Rivals with a Hidden Crush Character: Draco Malfoy x Y/N Draco and Y/N always clash in class—sarcastic comments, magical duels, constant competition. But behind the rivalry, Draco’s hiding a huge crush. He acts annoyed but secretly watches out for Y/N, gets jealous when others get close, and one day finally blurts out, “Merlin, do you ever stop being perfect?

I hope you like it ~ ♡

Do You Ever Stop Being Perfect? .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: You and Draco Malfoy have clashed since first year—bickering, bantering, always trying to one-up each other in class. But what you don’t know is that behind Draco’s sarcasm and eye-rolls hides a very real, very overwhelming crush. And it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.

draco malfoy x f!reader

You were his favorite headache.

That’s what Draco told himself every time you raised your hand in class just a second faster than him. Every time you rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comments. Every time you challenged him to a duel during practice or muttered something clever under your breath when he passed by.

He hated you.

Except, of course, he didn’t. Not even a little.

He just liked to pretend he did. Because it was easier to scowl than to stammer. Easier to tease than confess. Easier to pretend that the twist in his stomach whenever you laughed was irritation and not the stupid butterflies that had been fluttering since third year.

You weren’t exactly innocent either. You loved getting under his skin. There was something satisfying about the way his jaw clenched every time you corrected him, something thrilling about the fire in his eyes when you beat him at a charm. You couldn’t explain it. You just knew it felt fun. Like a game only the two of you knew the rules to.

And the rest of the school? They were watching.

“Are you two ever not fighting?” Blaise asked one day in the common room, raising a brow as you flounced past Draco, accidentally-on-purpose knocking his books off the couch.

“No,” you said at the same time Draco said, “She started it.”

You grinned. “Only because you’re so easy to provoke, Malfoy.”

His eyes narrowed. “One day, Y/N, I’m going to hex that smug little smile off your face.”

You blew him a kiss. “You’d miss it too much.”

Blaise groaned. “This is exhausting. Just snog and get it over with.”

You choked on a laugh. Draco went silent. Dead silent. His ears turned pink.

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "in your dreams" and stalked off toward the stairs, muttering about needing to study.

It wasn’t just class. It was everywhere. The tension followed you like a magnetic storm. In the library, you argued over table space. In the hallway, he bumped your shoulder every time you passed. At meals, you tried to out-snark each other with passive-aggressive comments about the food, your grades, your friends—nothing was off limits.

You didn’t know when it shifted. Maybe it was during that one rainy afternoon when you were stuck in detention with him for arguing mid-transfiguration. You’d thought it would be another shouting match, but instead, he sat next to you in silence, watching the rain hit the window.

“I like the quiet,” you murmured without looking at him.

He nodded. “Me too.”

You didn’t say anything else, but when Filch finally let you leave, you both hesitated in the hallway.

“I don’t actually hate you, you know,” you said softly.

Draco stared at you for a second too long. “Good.”

After that, things changed—but only a little. He was still sarcastic. You were still sharp. But the heat was different now.

He started watching you in class. Not in a creepy way, just... attentive. You caught him more than once glancing your way when you were focused on your work, a slight crease between his brows like he was trying to figure you out.

When you flirted with a Hufflepuff boy during Care of Magical Creatures, he snapped at you afterward for “embarrassing the House,” but you saw the flicker of jealousy in his face. The way his fists clenched. The way he avoided your eyes for the rest of the day.

And you? You liked it more than you should’ve.

You pushed it further. More compliments to other boys. More laughter at jokes he didn’t tell. He grew more sour. More quiet. More broody.

Until one day, it broke.

You were paired up in Potions (again—thanks Snape), and you were squabbling about ingredient order.

“Maybe if you actually followed instructions, Malfoy, we wouldn’t keep exploding cauldrons.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so infuriatingly perfect all the bloody time, I wouldn’t be distracted!”

You blinked. “What?”

He froze.

Oh.

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“Forget I said that,” he mumbled, turning back to the cauldron with flushed cheeks.

You smirked. “Distracted by what, exactly?”

He didn’t answer. He just shoved a pinch of lacewing flies into the brew a little too aggressively.

Later that night, you found him in the Astronomy Tower, leaning on the railing, staring at the sky.

“You can’t just say things like that in the middle of Potions class,” you said.

He didn’t turn around. “It was an accident.”

“But it wasn’t a lie.”

Silence.

You walked to stand beside him. The stars were faint tonight, but the moon was bold and bright, casting light over his pale hair.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he muttered, voice low. “With you. I’m not good at... emotions. Or feelings. Or whatever this bloody thing is.”

You leaned on the railing next to him, shoulder brushing his. “Me neither.”

He glanced at you. You were close. Too close. You didn’t move.

He sighed. “You’re brilliant. And annoying. And smarter than me. And Merlin, do you ever stop being perfect?”

You laughed. “No. It’s a curse.”

That made him smile. Really smile.

“I like you,” you said. Simple. Honest.

He looked at you like he didn’t deserve it. “Even though I’ve been a git for years?”

“Especially because of that,” you teased. “It’s part of your charm.”

He turned toward you fully, and before you could think too much, his hand found yours. Just a brush of fingers. Nothing more.

But it was enough.

“I still want to beat you in every class,” he said.

You grinned. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

And then, finally, finally, he leaned in and kissed you—soft and tentative, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him.

You did.

[deviantartdramahub]

So this is something to settle an expose a certain person who is rallying people to hate on one of my friends, and that person is @xscene-queen-selfshipsx. This is from my perspective, the person she actively and proudly tried to trick into giving her free stuff by taking advantage of my generosity.

For context, Vee and I had become close friends, and I admittingly was lovestruck and didn't go about it in the right ways, ultimately, unfortunately, unknowingly, and unintentionally making Vee uncomfortable and having Vee block me on everything. I do not blame Vee for what she did to protect her own emotional well being and once Scene relayed what Vee had told her I did, I finally saw the other perspective and I took a long look at myself in the mirror and punched it in disgust, and now I'm in the process of making a mosaic of a monarch butterfly with the pieces of that mirror.

What Scene thought she was doing was revenge for her as she found out that with as little income I have, I go out of my way to show appreciation for the people that are there for me and give them gifts, but I personally can't see how what she was attempting to do and admittingly almost succeeded in doing is in the benefit of ANYBODY ELSE but herself.

I first met Scene when playing Cards Against Humanity with her and Vee, we three had a great time together, and afterwards conversations went on from there. Scene was a cool person with a lot of similar interests and I enjoyed talking to her. There was a time she thought about leaving Vee's server when she felt like she wasn't fitting in and had nothing in common with anybody there. Being someone that has dealt with rejection from the world for being different, I decided to go talk to her, and I spent hours writing long paragraphs to help her understand that it's okay to be different and to be proud of it, and that she should still be open about her personal interests because true friends will support you in those interests AND since I was there at the time, I offered to be that person that shared common interests with her. After that long conversation, Scene decided to stick around and it seemed her mood had actually changed. She seemed more confident to be herself and seemed to have found a new outlook on everything, I felt like I had truly helped her. She even said when I admitted to her that I REALLY liked Vee, that she fully supported the possibility of Vee and I getting together and that I would be a good person for her.

Fast forward to when Vee and I had our falling out because of my own mistakes that I take full responsibility for, and have told Scene many times that I did. Scene and I talked about the falling out, and Scene went to Vee to find out her perspective of everything and then relayed it to me, which was extremely helpful in me starting to fix what is wrong with me as I was unaware of the full scope of what I did wrong, but scene did it in a very harsh way as well. Calling me names, comparing me to awful people or comparing my actions to way more extreme actions, making sure that I saw every ugly detail in my reflection so I could start popping those ugly pimples of my personality. But she also helped change the subject and was being there to talk to me about the common interests we had, often having to help me stop thinking or talking about Vee in my time of heartbreak by saying things like "it was never real, you were delusional, you messed up, you have a lot to work on before even thinking about finding love" etc. (not actual word-for-word quotes, just mostly paraphrasing.) and of course the conversation came up about my anxiety of how Vee is going to feel when gifts I had sent her were going to be coming in the mail in a couple days and how I used to shower Vee in gifts, not in a way to "buy her love" but to simply get her something that she couldn't afford at the time (but I could) that I know she would like and would make her happy, because I am a people pleaser to a fault.

After Scene discovered this trait about me that I do with ALL my friends, she started REALLY trying to convince me to get her stuff, and in my depressive state, I agreed that I would buy her stuff she was asking for, because I wanted to be happy making somebody else happy again. I came close to doing so but thankfully fate protected me and the items she was asking for the most at the time were out of stock, so I couldn't buy it for her, so then I splurged on myself to cope in my own way, making me unable to afford ANYTHING she was asking me for. She kept trying to tell me when I was reacting to the things she was asking for "not to fall for her, don't make the same mistake you made with Vee", but that's the thing, I didn't have an OUNCE of feelings for Scene in the slightest, my heart simply doesn't move on like that, and I'm currently working on myself to be a better partner for somebody in the future, because obviously I'm not good for anybody right now for many reasons. I am not going to fall for somebody else RIGHT AFTER losing somebody that I was basically handing my heart over to on a silver platter, especially if that person is their "ride or die" best friend that's like a sister to them, that's just morally messed up. I was simply reacting because what she was asking me for was the typical Hot Topic girl vibes clothing, which I did admit that is my favorite style and usually the style of every girl I crushed on, just to simply say that Scene had good taste and that she was going to be looking amazing in it, the same way a gay friend would go shopping with a bestie and compliment her with no intentions behind it because he doesn't swing that way. Example: "Damn gurl! Your butt in those, omg, you're going to make guys and girls flood the place because they'll be drooling so much! Yaaaas!"

Fast forward again after some time of me talking to Scene, daily updates, random memes, occasional drops in mood and venting how I miss Vee and how I wish I knew sooner what I was doing wrong so I could start to fix it before I lost her, etc. I randomly got a message from Vee after being unblocked on one of the apps we actively followed each other on in the past, telling me to add her back on Discord since she unblocked me there too because she had something important to tell me. Vee then sent me the screenshots you see in this post, of Scene admitting to her that she was planning to take advantage of me to get free stuff while also talking shit and insulting me for being a kind and trusting person who makes a lot of mistakes unknowingly and unintentionally. The way she speaks about me when I've been nothing but kind and supportive of her truly hurts. After Vee told me that, Vee and I also discussed our falling out, what we both did wrong on our own parts, what we learned about ourselves in the experience, and what we plan to do to become the best version of ourselves in the future. Vee and I are on good terms and actively speaking to each other, but I am controlling myself as best as I can to not be the clingy, obsessed, and lovestruck fool I was that made me lose her before, and she is trying her best to be better at communicating and being open about her feelings instead of forming to what she thinks others want. We are both becoming better people slowly but surely, because we don't want to be misunderstood by our actions when we have good intentions.

After I was informed, I kept it going with Scene to see how far she'd truly go to do such an evil thing to someone, and even when I admitted that I'm nervous that she may be taking advantage of me after she sent her amazon wishlist, she denied any I'll intentions and tried to make me feel ridiculous for thinking that she would do something like that, that she is there for me. So I decided it was finally time to show her what I now know. And you can see the rest in the screenshots.

Fast forward to now, where Scene is posting vague things, bad mouthing Vee and rallying other people who have had their own experiences with Vee, but never admitting any wrong she did on her part. I don't think Vee doing the morally right thing and warning someone that something LITERALLY ILLEGAL is being done to them warrants all the things that are being said about her. I do not make a lot of money right now, the only guaranteed amount being a little over 1k per month, while also living in my own and taking care of my ESA cat, and the things I was going to buy for Scene were going to be a LOT of money, the CHEAPEST item Scene was asking for being $50 or more, yet I was still going to do it because I was convinced she was my friend and gave a damn about me.

I'm going to close this with a direct statement to Scene. Scene, please feel free to do a post explaining how *you* taking advantage of a broken, generous, kind, good intentioned, IDIOT is "revenge" for Vee. Explain what Vee gains out of that. If you know Vee like you claim to, that you were her BEST FRIEND, her ride or die, then you would know that Vee doesn't take pleasure in the suffering of others, and what you were doing wasn't minor at all. You could've had me spend money on you that I could've spent on taking care of myself, wether it be things for my physical stability or emotional stability. You took advantage of my emotional state, my gullibility, and my passion for making others happy. Now you're upset because your friend ratted you out before you gained anything from it. I'm sorry but in comparison to you, Vee, and I, I have to say you are mostly in the wrong on a moral standpoint, and a legal standpoint at that. You are the reason why I hate humanity and now don't even want to identify as human anymore because humans are greedy little fucks that let the 7 deadly sins not only dictate their lives, but let it be the core fundamentals of how the "real world" works. What you attempted to do to me is disgusting, and I'm sure if you were on ANY other side of this other than your own, you'd be just as disgusted by somebody doing that to somebody else, and if I'm wrong and you STILL think you're justified, you have a LOT more to work on than Vee and I do. And anybody else that sees this and still thinks she's justified, you have problems too. I pity all of you and the karma that will eventually come for you. I wish you all luck in your own paths of lives, because the ones I see you going on are ROUGH, but there's many forks in the paths of lives that you have the choice to take better ones, ones less traveled so you don't need to push others down to get past them.

I believe I've said all I could, but I could always go into more detail. I hope this post doesn't get taken down while other posts slandering Vee remain up while Vee's retaliation is being taken down. That would be extremely unfair and just silencing the truth and hiding actual evidence of somebody doing an awful and ILLEGAL thing she could EASILY try to do to others. This is Tovar Perri, AKA tovarisawesome or tovartheawesome (depending on the platform), not any alt account of Vee's, and I'm willing to prove that however I can.

TLDR: Be careful getting REMOTELY close with @xscene-queen-selfshipsx, there is a chance that it's all just an act to get something out of you, wether it be something with monetary value or simply your attention and emotional support, and she actually doesn't give to flying fucks about you, no matter how nice you are to her. Nobody is off limits for her to manipulate and take advantage of. Vee and I may have our own flaws we are actively working on, at least we are morally mature enough to know that doing something like that is EXTREMELY messed up. Did I mention enough that it's also ILLEGAL?! If I wanted to I could take legal action for just attempting to do it, and with all the evidence Vee and I have and my amazing lawyers, I would win. I'm just saying. But I like to give second chances, so as long as this post puts an end to this whiny "my friend snitched on me and I didn't get my free clothes, WAH! Let's all talk shit about her and validate me when I don't disclose the shitty things I did!" posts that I'm seeing, then I'll take that as you either sulking in your shit pile you made, waiting for karma to come to you, or you are actively working on yourself as well, which I hope the case is the ladder. Good luck. I hope nothing but the best for everyone in this shitty situation and this fucked up world we live in.

Long-winded as always, if that isn't proof that I am Tovar Perri, I don't know what is. XD

I'm going to see how all this goes. One might say Evie has been brigading in response to everything and that it's giving this a conflict of interest. You won't be given the boot, but keep in mind the dump may not exist for long. There also needs to be more sources, this needs to be talked about.

[arsonsara]

[The phone rings four times, and just before it can ring for a fifth, the phone is answered.] "Hellosie posies, you've reached the home of one Arso-" "...ahem." "This is Vivian speaking, can I help you?" [Silence.] "...H-hello?…" [Silence.] "...O-oh...oh my stars. Is...is that you? Goodness gracious, it has to be! I mean I don't remember anyone else who wasn't as...talkative. And nobody ever really called me like this except…" "You..." "Hahah...oh god, how long has it been since we last talked? Years now? It feels like only yesterday I got that call from you and just...let my gourd pop open! Hehe! I had a lot on my mind back then. To be honest I uh...still do." "Things are...better than they were. At least in a lot of the places that count but, the world keeps spinnin' y'know! It's enough to make you dizzy sometimes, hehe! And sometimes I get...pretty dizzy." "...I'm really glad you called. I've been really dizzy lately, a lot of memories are coming back to me that are a bit...rough to organize. Like a jigsaw puzzle and the pieces just sorta...change shape every-time you try to place a piece. Heck I don't know what i'm even building at this point! I don't think any of us are! Hahaha! Ahahaha!…" "But...i'm worried. About...someone I care about. They're a friend of mine that means a lot to me and...from what I could gather she's not doing as great as I thought she was. I mean i've...never met her. Is it weird to consider someone a friend if you've never met? I mean one of her friends has been trying to talk to me lately...does that count?" [Silence.] "...Are you here to lend an ear, stranger? That friend of a friend i'm referring to he's...talking about stuff like that lately. Lending an ear. Are you trying to do the same for me again?…" "...Thank you…" "...I guess I should...just get started."

On July 3rd, 2023, posted exactly at 5:44 PM Eastern Standard time, I wrote my personal review of my thoughts regarding the Anti-Fiction ARG Story Project, Welcome Home. I don't quite remember specifically when I came across the Welcome Home Website, but it was during its earliest incarnation, and I've been around since its inception on the internet. And ever since, it has captivated me and only continues to grow and reach towards loftier, dreamier heights and crawl into darker, isolating caverns. I don't wear my fandom seniority as a badge of pride, but can't help but fawn over it the same way someone does a hand-made gift. That's what Welcome Home is to me, in a lot of ways: A gift. It's a beautiful and haunting story, a complex and enrapturing puzzle, and a stunning, awe-inspiring work of art and despite how small the present box it came in was it just keeps getting bigger. There is a lot I could say about Welcome Home now that we're further into its story. When I wrote my review of it back in 2023 it was practically just getting started, and there are a lot of discussions I could have regarding all we've seen from the two Halloween Updates and the absolutely insane knockout that was The Homewarming Update… But i'm not here to talk about that. At least not now, because I want to zoom in on not just a particular update, but a particular character within Welcome Home's cast. The one that caught my attention the most, stole my heart, and as of the recent update, spoke more to me than anyone else on the cast. And I can't think of a better way to start than here:

For context, I always love playing into a scene or story even if it's just in small ways. When I wrote this signature in the Guestbook I thought it'd be fun to play in the space of Welcome Home being a real piece of lost media, whilst also sharing my love for the character that made my heart flutter like a butterfly and couldn't help but make me giggle. At this point in time, when I wrote that message, we didn't know a lot about Julie Joyful. We didn't have as much media surrounding Welcome Home aside from the biography pages that gave us descriptions for everyone in the cast. We didn't even have proper voices for the characters yet! And somehow Julie Joyful was the one out of everyone in the cast where I picker her out from the crowd and said: She was my favorite. Not just that she was my favorite, but that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, without even a smidgen of hesitation: If Welcome Home was in fact a real show that I grew up with as a child, that Julie Joyful would be the one I loved the most out of everyone. And as days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to a year, year to years, and as Welcome Home has grown and flourished we've only come to learn more and more about this delightful as a daffodil Rainbow Monster. Can you tell that she's even rubbed off on me? This most recent update, April 12th's 2025 Springtime Salutations update, gave us a lot to learn about Julie Joyful. Not only did we see her at her brightest, her peppiest, her singingest, her skip-hop-and-jumpiest...but we also saw her at her darkest. Julie has quickly become one of my favorite characters in media ever. The more we saw of her the more my heart was captivated, and now that we've reached such a primal boiling point for her character, I felt like now was the time for me to give her the proper celebration she deserved. Like a hand-written letter in a pink envelope, covered with stickers, full to bursting with confetti and game pieces and little knick-knacks and doo-dads...and in the card i've written a deeply earnest and sympathetic thank you. Because out of a lot of the characters i've grown attached to, there are few like Julie who equally embody the person I want to be, remind me of the person I am, and make me feel truly seen. I think that's enough pre-amble ramblin'. Let's get started, shall we?

---

One of the big things that captivated me about Julie Joyful, once more updates began to roll on and we got to see more of the scamperingly sweet Rainbow Monster in action was just how utterly, reverently silly she was. She speaks in such a squeaky, chipper, bouncy lilting voice and is constantly talking a mile a minute, throwing out mounds for pounds of alliteration, spoonerisms, rhymes and a gargantuan greenhouse worth of flower names and funny games. Out of everyone in the cast, she's the one who is the most childlike in demeanor, and it seems no matter the reason or the season she finds some way to make a simple occasion into an all out affair! At least, when it comes to her appearance on screen. Within Welcome Home, there is something of a divide between the cast: How they appear in media made for the Welcome Home TV Show, through merchandise and other second-hand findings, and how they appear when the cameras are "off" so to speak. Throughout the website's history there have been hidden videos and audio logs where we seemingly see the neighbors of Home interacting with each-other on a far more casual, day to day basis. Almost as if the world of Welcome Home is real, that that little clearing in the forest with cutesy houses surrounded by a phantasmagorical cornucopia of brightly colored trees is somewhere out in our real world, and the merchandise surrounding the show is only a representation of the real thing. Almost like learning about someone through a game of telephone. Welcome Home has already played with a lot of themes regarding the restrictions of television for the time period of when Welcome Home supposedly aired, and art created for the sake of a corporate end-goal. Think about it, all of the things we learn about Welcome Home aren't from the show itself, we as an audience have never even seen an episode, let alone a clip or screenshot from the actual puppet show.

All of it is secondhand merchandise or advertisements, at least with regards to the physical remnants we have of the Welcome Home TV Show. And as the story continues, we keep seeing characters drift away from their television personas and show us more of who they really are, and the more that time passes things start to weigh on their minds more and more, become heavier and heavier, and the seams at the edges of their existences, their realities, start to fray… But it started out very subtle, and gives us a lot to think about regarding how the cast actually feels about eachother outside of the "show". One of the differences from her Show Persona and how she truly interacted with the rest of the cast, didn't have anything to do with her character herself, but rather how another person reacted to her. In "The Show", Frank Frankly is constantly seen as a grumpy grump and a sourpuss when it comes to dealing with Julie's constant shenanigans. Crossing his arms, rolling his eyes, saying thinks like "Not again" and "Julie, we've talked about this." This isn't to say Frank's Show Persona dislikes Julie, even in spite of his apparent frustration with her allyoop antics, where Julie is Frank is never far behind and there's always something of a begrudging fondness for her. A very "Yup, this is my circus, and that is most certainly my monkey." kind of attitude.

Yet when the cameras are off, it's almost the complete opposite. In one of the hidden-videos from the first big update, we hear Frank bringing Julie to his freshly grown tomatoes so he can get advice on how to deal with the beetles that have been eating them. It's odd to think about isn't it, Frankly coming to Julie for advice? By this point we knew a little bit about Julie regarding her affinity for plants and flowers, but it's still a bit odd isn't it? And before we know it, Julie breaks out into her usual serendipitous self, with her absitovely posituley silly observations and suggestions, but instead of the usual exasperation we're used to from Frank Frankly, he reacts far more warmly. Even joining in on Julie's little games and bursting with laughter when she says his nose looks like a Banana! It feels like it's almost a completely different dynamic, the two sharing in a very small, sweet, domestic moment of silliness, and both of them feeling like true best friends. Not only that but in another one of these secret videos, we see Julie trying to convince Barnaby that she's capable of telling a good joke, only for the big blue dog to heckle her to no end! And for the first time we see Julie actually get frustrated at being belittled, trying her best to be seen as funny only for Barnaby to keep pulling at her leg and steaming her. We get to see a little more regarding Julie's thoughts on Barnaby in this most recent update, so we'll put a pin in it for later. For now, let's dig into the fertile discussion regarding Julie's siblings, Franny, Jonsie and Bea. The Springtime Salutations update gave us a LOT regarding Julie's family, lore about Rainbow Monsters, and us actually getting to see The Joyful Family interacting with other members of the cast, and their sister! While we don't know the precise age of anyone in the cast, it's safe to say just based off of interactions that Julie is the youngest of the Joyful's, as there's a certain level of fraternal responsibility the three have over Julie, or at least they behave as such. Afterall, the story is functionally about Julie going to her siblings for help, only for everyone to eventually realize Julie's made a mistake and accidentally having made a mountain out of a molehill. And during the family talk amongst each other in "A Darling Broadcast", the Joyfuls ask why it is that Julie hasn't joined their band, and that they want their "Dynamite Drummer." But...Julie doesn't play the drums. At least we've never seen that! She sings, talks and kisses the flowers and that's what makes them bloom, as we learn in the storybooklet "What Makes The Flowers Bloom." Not only that but in Julie's biography and implied elsewhere on the site, she moved out of her home with her siblings in the cave so she could move to the neighborhood of home! But...why? From what we know about Rainbow Monsters and their culture, they seem to all be cohesive family units! And when Julie is asked about when she'll join the band, she avoids the question by pretending that the connection is breaking and hangs up. And even afterwards, we hear Bea talk about how she hopes that one day Julie will join the band. But for as much as she seems to love her siblings, she doesn't seem to want to be in the band with them. Maybe their constant insistence on her joining the band, of her being a drummer was what made her move away? A feeling of being constrained by the views of her peers? Not only that but we don't get to hear any interaction with Julie and her family when the cameras are "off". As time goes on the line between the show, the world of the show, and our world continue to blend, but we haven't seen any interactions from the Joyfuls that would explain what exactly happened between them…

This next part is going to get into heavy spoiler territory regarding a lot of the secrets in this most recent update, so if you don't want to be spoiled, I recommend finding them on your own and coming back afterwards. But later we learn something very important: Julie is terrified of the idea of being a "bad" rainbow monster, and being unable to live up to the example of her siblings. Over the course of the secret videos in this update, we see Julie; who is sometimes accompanied by Frank, attempting to get a black tulip made of felt, with an odd looking eye in the center of its bud that looks similar to the Marlo Logo, Marlo being a corporation tied with the creation of Welcome Home. It seems that out of all the flowers in the neighborhood, Julie can't get this single flower to blossom, and what once starts as apprehension soon grows into outright terror at the idea of failure. She starts to fear whether or not this is "just the start", that she'll loose her ability to make plants grow and blossom and that Home will be full of nothing but wilting flowers and dead fields. She agonizes over the idea of if her siblings found out, that she can't let them find out, that nobody can know.

Now, up to this point we've seen another Welcome Home resident behave in a similar manner: Eddie Dear. In the Homewarming Update, we see him start to grow stressed over not being able to do his job of delivering presents for Homewarming to everyone in the neighborhood, cooped up in his post-office and growing frustrated that he can't do anything, even saying "Who’s ever heard of folks gettin’ recognition for nothin'? No one, that’s who!" Eventually, he goes outside to learn that the Neighbors have already done all the delivering for him, and that he doesn't need to do his job, he can simply enjoy the festivities!… But when he tries, he starts seeing things nobody else can. Things that feel like aren't meant to be seen. Things he doesn't want to see.

It seems that the "Roles" of the characters within Welcome Home almost act as an anchoring point for them. That if they aren't able to be who they are, they start to slip, they start to see things, and the world around them begins to twist and shift. Julie herself, the more stressed she gets, starts to speak differently. Her voice is lower, her tone is more quiet, reserved, far more human and less cartoony. Almost like she's becoming a completely different person. But unlike Eddie, whose anxieties seem to stem from recognition or the knowledge that he's doing a public service for the people he cares about, Julie's seem to come from a deep seeded fear of failure. Earlier in the videos we hear her talk about how sometimes she worries about what Barnaby and Howdy think of her, that she thinks she isn't funny, and she tries brushing it off as friendly ribbing, but the tone in her voice clearly lets us know that ribbing or not that it still hurts her sometimes. Not only that but we already have the expectations she feels she has from her siblings. Were these fears she imparted unto herself for feeling like the odd one out of her family, or was there some form of long-form confrontation within the Joyful family from a young age that left her feeling like she not only lived in their shadow, but needed to live up to their example. There are a lot of things we can speculate about Julie's relationship and feelings towards her family and her friends, but one thing is certain: Julie believes that she can't let anyone see her slip. They can't see her when she's unhappy, and they most certainly can never, ever, ever know that she did something wrong. It almost puts her kind of playtime into perspective: You don't need to worry about loosing if the rules to a game are so loosey goosey, or even if loosing is the fun part, as we see in the video where Eddie and Julie play pretend as corporate business workers. Hell, maybe Julie's exaggerated break down of Everything Inc. going "Out of Business" was foreshadowing for Julie's actual fears of failure. But the point is, it doesn't matter if you loose if the rules are made up to be nonsense and a winner can simply be picked at random, or if the purpose of the game is simply to have fun and have no proper goal. But once there are rules? There are stakes. And there's a punishment if you loose.

Now here's a question that seems to be floating around the fan communities of Welcome Home: Is Julie's pollyanna attitude genuine, or a front? When we see her break down in front of the Black Tulip, is this us finally seeing her true colors, mask off? I think the answer is more nuanced than a simple yes or no, but what I do believe is that Julie's demeanor comes from a genuine place. We've seen her behave all serendipitous and silly when "the cameras are off" and I don't think she's secretly a constant bundle of anxiety on the inside. I think her being so joyful is what she does to quell her anxiety. It is what makes her happy, it's what makes life worth living, but it is a coping mechanism and up until this point, a pretty effective one! Not only that, but Welcome Home is always constantly playing with our perception of where the boundaries lie between our world and that of Welcome Home's.

I'm not the only one to have come to this conclusion, but I believe when we hear Julie's voice break we're hearing what her original voice-actress sounded like when she was out-of-character, and potentially Julie's fears are mirroring that of the original actress. So, are we seeing Julie, or her actress? I think it's both. I think we're getting both an in-depth read on Julie's character and starting to see behind the curtain of what the production crew was dealing with, to a certain extent. To what extent, we don't know, but with how often Welcome Home blends the lines of reality, I think we're witnessing a co-existing truth and not something that contradicts itself. There is another thing I am absolutely certain of regarding Julie's reaction to the Black Tulip not blooming: This is a trauma response. Julie isn't just being traumatized in the moment from the Black Tulip not blooming, something had to have happened to her in the past to make her react in such a way.

It gets to the point that, for the first time in the series, we hear one of the characters swear! JULIE SAYS "SHIT!" And by the end of it all we start to hear her threatening the Black Tulip, saying that by Homewarming when Winter comes that they'll never be seen again, that nobody will know it's there! She's threatening the Black Tulip, and in the same breadth convincing herself that this is something she can bury and that no one will know of her shame... ...Say… Remember when Julie was the one who played the main character in Sally's rendition of The Telltale Heart? Almost like it was foreshadowing this very moment, and that Julie feels the same amount of guilt and shame over not being able to bloom a flower as much as the main-character in The Telltale Heart feels about killing another person? Safe to say, these emotions can't be coming from nowhere. Something happened to Julie Joyful. And if that isn't enough, the last secret page we find for the update is Frank, seemingly exploring the Forests of the Outskirts of Home, the sun is starting to set, and he's looking with a thousand yard stare at something we can't see. And the image's name is called "uhoh."

Remember in the Halloween Update, when Sally told the story of why you don't leave your home after dark? Did Julie stay in that forest, berating the Black Tulip until the sun came down, and Frank has found the aftermath? Or is this before the sun goes down, and Frank is seeing something else… Either way, from what we can tell, it can't be good. And I am dreading the next update. I hope above anything else that Julie will be okay. But at this point, it's hard to say. --- Julie has always been an important character to me, ever since Welcome Home started. I was recently transitioning, voice training, and when I finally got to see Julie in action proper, the first thought I had is that I wanted to be just like her. Exuberant, goofy, caring, silly, reverent, colorful, joyful, she was the embodiment of everything I so deeply, deeply wanted to be. And in this update, I wasn't just thinking about how much I wanted to be like her. Julie reminded me of myself. Of fears i've had, of struggles i've gone through, of the terror that grips your heart when you think you are on the verge of a failure you can't come back from, a failure that will make you worthless. I don't say this to garner sympathy, and whilst we all go through our own struggles, i'm happy to say that i'm in a better place than I was when Welcome Home came out, and that the future looks even brighter. But i've never had a character both embody the sort of person I wanted to be, and the sort of struggles that gripped my heart. In a weird way, it made me feel more like Julie than I ever did before, over something I never thought the two of us would share. There's a lot more I could talk about regarding Julie, and as deep as I go I feel like I am only ever going to scratch the surface. There's the discussion of the queer theming in Welcome Home regarding the Show seemingly forcing Julie and Frank into a relationship, and the potential romance between Frank Frankly and Eddie Dear. I could talk about what is essentially the "Beta" of Welcome Home before all of its details were canonized, where Julie looked far more wonky and had the name Julie B and the seperate story that tells. (which I personally believe is referenced when Jonesy calls her by the affectionate nickname of Julie Bean.) I could talk about how before we even met The Joyful Family, I made a Self-Insert OC of a Rainbow Monster named Vivi Vacilate, how she'd interact with the rest of her cast, wrote up her own theoretical "It's-For-You Talking Telephone" script and even what-if scenarios of how she'd be incorporated into the ARG itself, playing with themes of fan-creations for works like this and the strange nature of how things manifest through Welcome Home as a show, with there being a question of whether or not Vivi was an actual character or a fan-creation that somehow manifested itself alongside the show. I can talk about what I think the future holds for her character, for the story as a whole, and what it'll mean. And I more than likely will, in the future, whether between friends or in errant posts or maybe even another analysis like this. Only time will tell what form it takes, but there's one thing I do know for certain: I love Julie Joyful. Never has there been a character that has brought me such happiness into my life and made me feel so known. Never has there been a character that represents everything I want to be in life, how far i've come, and the lengths i've yet to go. I don't know how Welcome Home will end, whether it'll be happy, sad, scary, or all if it at once. But no matter what happens, Julie Joyful will always have a very, very special place in my heart. I commend Clown for planting this little seed, all of the artists and writers for giving it some good soil and watering it with their love, and to Cyberscraps for letting its voice bloom into something beautiful and inspiring. And i'll always cherish it. ...Oh, no wait, there is one second thing I know for certain. ...I really want that Julie Plushie... ---

"Thank you again for listening to me again, Stranger. I needed that more than I thought I did. Sometimes you have thoughts that just keep bubbling up inside you until it POPS like an overstuffed grape and just gets messy and all over the place but...now I feel better...at least a little…" "...I guess all there is left to do is wait. I mean i'm used to that now and i'm a patient girl but...it's...really all I can do right now, isn't it?" [Silence] "At least I can say I did all I could! I had some help of course, I don't know if I could'a done it all by my lonesome! So here's hoping that when things happen again that maybe...they'll be better?…" [Silence] "...Is it silly of me to think that way?…" [Silence] "...I guess so. But...maybe that's not all that bad. Stranger, I feel like it's my time to go, and i'm sure you have places to be but...can you do me a favor? If you can?" [Slience.] "...If you..."

"Happen to come across her…" "Can you let me know if she's okay?" "That I hope she's okay?" [Silence.] "...Well...it's worth a shot." "...Goodbye and uh...g-goodness what is that thing he says…" "...Don't forget to wave up high." [Vivian hangs up the phone.]

[puppppppppy]

updated Sleight ref!!

[thetimelordbatgirl]

This....This ia all...because of stopping a fucking prank on Bridget....fucking what the hell??? I wanna scream THANK YOU LORD like Brenda from Scary Movie at the Ben and Mal thing but like, I can't because why the fuck is a school prank being stopped impacting everything we knew about the first three movies and short and so many books and animated series?! Like, Mad Hatter somehow became a villain??? Characters people grew up with in the first three films and such could be erased?! AK'S HAVE BEEN BANISHED TO THE ISLE?! THE ISLE ITSELF WAS CREATED BECAUSE AGAIN, ULIANA AND CO TRIED TO DO A PRANK?! I get butterfly effects can be like this, I grew up watching Doctor Who thank you very much, BUT THIS IS THE MOST BULLSHIT BUTTERFLY EFFECT YET THE HELL- Could have just left the changes with Red and her family and kingdom but nooo its gotta impact everything else apparently!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Crdt to op

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part Two

TW: OC Character Death (dude doesn't even get a name). Steve reflects on killing both demo-creatures and humans with detachment. Mentions of Major Character Deaths but as a reminder, they don't stay dead! (Well, Chrissy and Fred do)

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Maybe he should feel bad about watching Robin grow smaller in the rear-view mirror, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger. Maybe he should feel regret for his actions, for the betrayal Robin probably feels right now.

He doesn't.

Looking at the bigger picture, at the regrets he actually does have in the waking world, this is small potatoes. A non-issue. Robin will forgive him in the end.

War Zone is like a ghost town compared to the first time Steve was here. Though, that should have been expected. The panic hasn't swept through town yet. So far, it's just one dead girl. Fred'll join her sometime this afternoon. Evening? Sometime later today.

Nineteen-year-old Steve would hate himself for not trying to help. For not doing his best to save Fred.

But.

Well, Fred dying will help Dustin, in the long run. Will help Eddie. And that's more important. That's the goal. The dream, if he's allowing himself to be cheeky in his own mind.

Steve's not heartless, or anything like that. Robin, his Robin in the waking world, still calls him a softy and worries his kindness will get him killed on the daily. He always puts the safety of the group above himself. The first to volunteer on supply runs or for scouting or taking watch through the night. He knows he can run on empty for much longer than anyone else he knows.

The end of the world has a way of skewing what kindness and softness are, though. Those first few months were the hardest. Steve wanted to save everyone they came across. Help as many people as possible, but rations run dangerously low that way. Clean water can become contaminated quickly by ignorant people. Not everyone handled the apocalypse with grace.

The first harsh lesson Steve had learned was two months into the end of the world. They'd ventured to Indy to find supplies. Medicines. Try and stock up on things they didn't need yet but wanted around for the just in case of it all. They'd found some survivors, which wasn't surprising in itself. The surprising bit was that these guys had made it on complete luck it seemed. They were loud. Jumpy. Panicky.

When Lucas and Mike, on scout duty, had reported back demogorgon activities nearby, one guy started to panic. Got loud and couldn't bring himself back down. Steve was closest, tried to shush him but he wouldn't be quiet.

"Move," Murray (may he rest in peace) whispered, seeming to have appeared from nowhere, shoving Steve away, nudging him out of the way. Murray stepped behind the guy, one hand covering his nose and mouth, the other arm around his neck. It made the guy panic more, fighting Murray and then Murray just-

Steve remembers he flinched at the noise, turning away to cover his mouth and calm his own panic. The noises stopped though. Steve had shot a horrified look to Hopper, but Hopper wasn't looking at Steve. He was looking beyond, at Murray and what he'd done, nodding his approval.

The demogorgons didn't find them that day.

"You can't help everyone, Steve," Murray said, once they'd started the trek back to Hawkins. "The safety of the group comes first, over just one person."

Lesson heard. Lesson learned. Lesson put to use four months later.

So. Fred must die, for the good of the group. Patrick, too, if Steve can't get to Vecna in time. He should be able to. Vecna will try and take Max first, tomorrow. Patrick the day after. If everything stays the same.

The clerk doesn't even blink at what Steve buys, or the quantity of what he buys, but his eyebrows do go up a little at the total.

Steve hesitates just a bit over the checkbook his parents gave him the first time they'd left him home alone at fourteen. For emergencies only, Steven. It's been sitting in his glove box, unused, since he turned sixteen. He's never wanted to have to explain what he'd used it for. Nothing had ever seemed like enough of an emergency to warrant explaining it to Richard Harrington.

He does find it a little odd that his mind is conjuring up the concept of money. Of all the little things to think about while he sleeps, he really didn't think his subconscious would bring capitalism back.

Steve rips the little check out of the booklet and hands it over. The clerk looks it over before giving a nod and finishing the cash out. Steve takes the receipt when it's offered, shoving it into the checkbook before shoving that into his back pocket.

The parking lot has one other person in it, who Steve is aware of the entire time he's loading the trunk of his car with gallons of lighter fluid, weapons, and padded camouflage. It's only after Steve's slammed the trunk closed and shoved the cart back towards the front of the store that the guy watching him speaks.

"Must be some bonfire you're planning."

Steve rounds his car and opens the door before answering. "It's spring break, man." He slides in, the door falling closed after him. He buckles up, starts the car, and heads home. The house will be empty, he knows.

He works in silence, unloading the car and organizing his haul in the dining room, eyes flicking to the clock. There's still a couple of hours before dark. Before he should go check if Eddie's still in the boathouse, or if the police did go find him.

He sets the timer on the stove for an hour and flops onto his couch and sighs. Just as comfy as he remembers. He can have a nap before making sure Eddie's in jail. Surely his dream will allow him that?

-

"Mmhm," Steve mumbles as his neck protests movement. He's slow to wake. His head feels like white noise. He thinks he was dreaming but he can't quite grasp at what it was... oh. Family Video and War Zone. Reliving a memory. He wonders if Robin is still mad at him for that day, ditching her with Dustin and Max. It'd been for a good reason and- Steve wrinkles his nose as he sits up, head still static-y. Was it for a good reason? He can't remember what else happened after that....

"He rises," Robin whispers next to him, spooking him. She comes into focus as he sits up straight, leaning out of her space to look at her. She gives him a smile, judging by the crinkle around her eyes and her cheeks rounding. The gas mask prevents him seeing her real smile and he misses it. He thinks about his dream, and getting to see all of Robin's face again.

Dreaming is bittersweet.

"I miss anything?" He asks, because it's a safe question.

"Scouts radioed. The way should be clear in another," Robin grabs his wrist and twists so she can see the time on his watch, "another twenty minutes or so."

The mention of the radio makes him think of Dustin, and how much he misses him. And thinking of Dustin makes him think of Eddie. Steve knows it's irrational for him to miss someone he never knew but that doesn't stop the ache. The almost of it all sits heavy in his chest.

"Right," Steve says. "Want to see how many rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors we can get through in twenty minutes?"

Robin shuffles sideways to be facing him and holds her hands up. "You always lose but okay."

They get about twelve rounds into it before Steve finds himself asking, "Hey Robbie. Do you remember Spring Break?"

Her hands freeze in the air, an aborted motion to make paper to beat Steve's rock. She locks eyes with him for a moment and he can see the worry there. "I- Steve. Is it- did you take a hit? Is it your head? Should I not have let you nap?"

No. No, he doesn't think he got hurt on this run. Well, his shoulder hurts from when he stumbled and slammed into wall during the last loading of the truck, but he hadn't hit his head. He thinks. "I don't know... I hit the wall hard, shoulder hurts, but I didn't hit my head. I don't remember hitting my head."

Robin stands immediately and begins jabbing her fingers around his skull. "Anything tender?"

"Nope. Just a messed up hairdo," Steve swats her hands away.

"Well, you can never be too sure. You are precious cargo. Why did you ask about the start of the apocalypse?"

Steve shrugs. What can he say? That he's forgetting the start of all their horrors? He can't say that, not without coming across like he's either crazy or bragging. Remember the week that ruined our lives and gave us all enough trauma to fill an ocean? Yeah, well, I don't so ha!

He can't be sure but he thinks Robin frowns beneath her mask. "We'll have to have someone look you over when we get back. Steve, if you're losing your memories..."

"I'm not losing memories," Steve lies. Head trauma is serious and he knows he can't take one more hit to the head. He won't be able to continue helping with supply runs or patrols if he is getting worse. If he starts getting migraines, they'll reassign him for sure. Something that doesn't let him leave the safety of their home base at the high school.

"Steve," she warns. He knows it's a warning.

He shakes his head. "I just. I had a dream about Saturday. Very vivid. Just made me think about it, is all."

Robin softens, sinking back down to sit beside him. She finally answers, "yeah. I remember Spring Break."

"I miss everyone," he confesses, because it's true. Because it's safe.

"Me too," Robin says, leaning her mask against his.

They wait in silence until the scouts call the all clear and they can head back home.

They make it back to Hawkins before night falls but just barely. The gates get rolled shut behind them and the unpacking gets started. The whole community has gathered for their return. This is their longest run to date with how far they had to go this time and Steve doesn't blame anyone for needing to see their loved ones as soon as possible.

"Robin!"

Steve turns just in time to watch Vickie launch herself at Robin. Robin must have seen her running, though, because she's already braced for impact and catches Vickie easily, arms grabbing at Vickie's thighs to support her weight as she wraps them around Robin's waist. Vickie places her forehead to Robin's as their excitement switches to tenderness and Steve averts his eyes to give them privacy in this moment.

"Steve, here," Ted Wheeler offers up a box to Steve, who takes it without question. "For the Daycare."

"You got it."

The Daycare is actually a wing of the school that used to be where the language arts classes were held. Daycare doesn't quite sum up what they use the area for, but calling it the Orphanage was too dark. Steve waits through the decontamination process. Once through, he takes the time to pull his mask off and enjoy the feeling of an artificial breeze on his face before heading to the Daycare.

"Please tell me there's something useful in that box," Annie Click says when Steve pushes his way into one of the rooms they use for school. Another room is dedicated to being a daycare, kids too little for learning, another is schooling for kids who would be in middle school, and the last room is lines with beds.

"Sorry, Mrs. Click, but I didn't pack it," Steve says apologetically.

"My problem to sort out then," she stands and Steve can see the determination in her through the weariness. She'd been a bitter old lady as his teacher but the world ending must have shifted her priorities. There's no one better suited to look after the kids than her, here.

Except maybe Joyce, but she's got bigger things to deal with.

He heads for the door when Annie calls out to him, "Since you're here, would you mind checking on the kids for me? Holly's supervising bedtime but she's lenient with her friends."

"Will do."

He heads across the hall and down a door to the sleeping room. The lights are dimmed and peeking in he sees a lot of kids sleeping, or pretending their best to be. Holly is sitting in a rolling chair near the door, one leg bend and pulled up on the seat as she rests her head on it.

Steve clears his throat to get her attention. She must have heard his footsteps because she doesn't spook. Just uses the foot on the ground to spin the chair to face the door. "Oh. Hi Steve."

"All good here?" He whispers.

"Yeah. Everyone's asleep."

"You can probably head home now. Your dad's back."

Holly shrugs one shoulder at him, spinning the chair back away. "Maybe later."

Steve takes the hint and backs away. His chest aches for Holly. All the kids had to grow up fast, given the state of the world, but Holly's hurts him most. He knew her in the Before, and she was there when Karen... Well, she's got a lot of weight on her shoulders at barely eleven years old.

To think. If they'd have been faster on that Spring Break. More diligent, thorough. Holly might have never known about the Upside Down at all.

More regret he can carry, he thinks, as he shoves his mask back on and heads back to the truck. There's more to be unloaded, and always work around to keep him so busy he doesn't have to think of the regrets.

He works so late into the night that once he gets back to his cot and collapses into it, there are no thoughts let in his mind as sleep claims him.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @andrew-mini-ard @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77

[tricoufamily]

visiting the hometown

(want everyone to know this edit came to me in a dream and i changed the lore just to do it)

[letteredlettered]

We’d all like the rest of your butterfly facts, please.

I have SO MANY; I'm not even sure how to share them all.

Butterflies and moths are not taxonomic or cladistic groups; they're colloquial terms to refer to lepidoptera (the taxonomic order butterflies and moths belong to) that have different characteristics and behaviors. That said:

Moths tend to be nocturnal

Moths tend to have fuzzy bodies, butterflies are sleek

Moths tend to have fuzzy antennae, butterflies just have straight plain ones

The additional fuzz on months allows them to sense what's around them, which is helpful because they're not seeing as much because they're nocturnal

Moths tend to build chrysalises with silk but also leaves and mud, etc. These are known as cocoons. Butterflies only use silk and don't have cocoons (either are known as chrysalis)

The Atlas Moth has the biggest wingspan of any lepidoptera

The Atlas Moth usually emerges from its cocoon without a mouth. It can only breed and die

The Atlas Moth caterpillar lives for months. It's generally in the cocoon for months! But it only lives as an adult moth for a few days (because it can't even eat!)

Inside their chrysalises, caterpillars don't just grow wings and longer legs. They liquify completely and reform.

Caterpillars have six legs called "true legs" that mirror the six legs butterflies have. Then they have additional nubs farther down their bodies that help them move around.

Butterflies taste with their feet. If they land on you, they're tasting you!

Butterflies can only eat liquid. They primarily eat nectar and juice from fruit. Rotten fruit is easier for them because rotten fruit is juicy.

The butterfly mouth is called a proboscis. It curls up when not in use and uncurls when the butterfly eats. It's like a straw.

The word "proboscis" can sometimes refer (as a joke!) to nose, but butterflies can't smell with their proboscis. They smell with their antennae!

Like many insects, butterflies have faceted eyes. But unlike the movies, they probably don't see the same image over and over, because their vision isn't refined enough for that. What faceted eyes allow them to see are big patches of color, which is useful considering they eat fruit and flowers. If you want a butterfly to land on you, wear something colorful.

Butterflies don't have lungs. Like most insects, they breathe through holes in their bodies called spiracles.

Incidentally, this is why insects are so small. If they were giant, these holes would have to be bigger or there would have to be many more of them, and that would mean their exoskeleton was not stable!

Oh, yeah, butterflies do not have bones. Like all insects, they have an exoskeleton.

Butterflies do not have blood. Like all insects, they had a fluid that moves most nutrients through their bodies. It's called hemalymph. It carries hormones, nutrients, and waste. It's blue!

Male butterflies tend to be smaller and more colorful than female butterflies. This is the same style of sexual dimorphism present in most insects. Also in birds!

Male monarch butterflies have distinctive dark spots on the lower wings that female monarch butterflies don't have. The spots are scent glands that help them attract mates.

Most butterflies migrate. Like birds.

Monarch butterflies in North America east of the Rocky Mountains have one of the most impressive migration patterns of any animal. They may travel up to 3,000 miles from Canada to Mexico, but what is most spectacular about it is that almost all of them end up in just a few spots relatively close together on some mountain peaks in Central Mexico. The monarchs are so dense that you can't see the trees.

Butterflies are great for studying evolutionary adaptations in coloration and appearance because they are so striking. Camouflage is the adaptation present when an animal blends in with its surroundings. Mimicry is the adaptation that makes an animal look like a different animal.

The owl butterfly is a great example of mimicry because it has two big owl eyes on its wings. The Atlas moth wing tips look like snake heads.

"Batesian mimicry" is named after Henry Walter Bates, who studied mimicry in butterflies. Batesian mimicry means that one species who is harmless looks like another species that is not harmless. Mullerian mimicry is when several species that are harmful all look like each other, so the warning to predators is stronger. Butterflies have great examples of both types of mimicry.

Monarch butterflies and viceroy butterflies were once thought to exhibit Batesian mimicry, because it was thought that vicroys weren't toxic, but it turns out both butterflies are poisonous and so the species have evolved to mimic each other in an example of Mullerian mimicry.

Monarch butterflies are poisonous because the milkweed caterpillars eat is poisonous

The best way to attract butterflies is to grow native plants.

[fortune-maiden]

The more I think of what Bridon has implied about the original timeline, the more I feel like Lu Guang was not being anxious enough actually xD