#Vent: ''well...they weren't exactly complaining''

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Monkey Business

Thanks for the Ask, Fetifiction

I heard you've got a crush on your gym buddy. You said his name was Amir, right? I know you like his personality or whatever, but he's not exactly your type. Is he? So, I sent you some experimental protein powder. It's called Ape Mode. Slip some of that in his drink...I think you'll like what happens...

"Oh, hey dude," Amir gives a friendly nod, "I almost thought you weren't coming. Did that professor hold class after the bell again?"

"Yup!" your voice shakes as you answer.

It's a lie. You just spent the last twenty minutes trying to spike his sports drink in the locker room. It was hard enough to find the damn thing, but you had to make sure it was definitely his. Luckily, his gym bag is bright yellow. It's pretty hard to miss, so the half empty bottle sitting next to it had to be his.

"He's a real douchebag," your friend complains, "Come on. I just started stretching."

Nervously, you sit beside Amir and try to keep up with his stretches. He asks you about your day and wonders if you need to vent about school. You just shake your head. Amir's caring personality is the best thing about him, but it's also making you feel really guilty for lying to him. Hopefully, that powder doesn't screw him up!

Amir ends the warmup and climbs to his feet. You watch as your best friend walks over to the locker room and pulls out his drink: the one you spiked. For a brief moment, you feel a flash of regret and almost shout out for him to stop, but it's already too late. The moment has passed. Amir is gulping down the entire contents of his bottle. All you can do is stare at him and wait.

"You good, dude?" Amir asks, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yup! Totally...um... let's workout!"

Amir claps you on the back and heads over to a treadmill. The guy is always doing cardio, leaving him thin and nimble, but you'd rather he looked a different way. You want to see him big and brawny like the man of your dreams. Hopefully, by the end of this workout, he will.

It's hard to act normal, but you swallow your anxiety and walk over to a weight machine. It's in the perfect spot to keep an eye on Amir. You want to know as soon as the changes start happening. A small part of you still doubts whether or not Ape Mode will actually work.

30 minutes later...

"Dude, I don't know what's happening! I was just running on the treadmill like normal, but..." he glances down at his swollen arms in disbelief, "well look at me!"

"I don't know either," you tell him with your most convincing voice, "but you look great!"

Amir takes another look down at his biceps. They've easily expanded to twice the size they used to be, but that's not the only thing that's changed. You've been staring at him on the treadmill for the last half hour. His whole body seemed to expand! His thighs thickened and his shoulders broadened. You think he even got taller! Not to mention the dense layer of stubble that's sprouted all over Amir's face.

He hasn't seemed to notice it all yet, but every part of his body seems to have shifted in some way! Seeing your friend transform into your wet dream is a lot more stressful than you imagined. You might be hiding a raging boner, but you're still worried about what will happen when Amir looks in a mirror. What if he doesn't like the new him? You wonder for a second if you should just come clean and tell him about the powder.

Amir flexes his arm, staring at his bulging bicep with a worried look, "I don't know, dude. Should I be worried?"

You look into your friend's vulnerable eyes, "Nope! Let's just get back to our workout."

Amir nods and lowers his tense shoulders. He trusts your judgement and brushes off his concerns. You watch with a mixture of guilt and excitement as Amir saunters back to the treadmill. His ass has even filled out, too!

"Dude!" a deep voice moans behind you.

"Woah!" your jaw drops at the site of Amir. His voice has lowered several octaves to the point where you couldn't even recognize it. His appearance is just as drastically different. The big hairy man standing before you looks only vaguely like the friend you know and love.

"What, is it bad? I don't feel good..." Amir groans, "Buh-UUuurrrp!” A low gutteral belch voices out of his stomach.

You don't know how to react. His transformation is progressing wildly, and you're almost too turned on to comfort him!

"I was just running, but my steps just kept feeling heavier, and I was feeling itchy all over, and my shirt is pinching me, and..." he trails off as he scratches his gut absent-mindedly.

It looks like he's gained sixty pounds, so it's no wonder that his shirt is feeling tight! Some of that weight isnt muscle, either. Amir has a bit of a gut, now, and with his shirt soaked in sweat, you can see how hairy his new chest is. His entire body seems to be sprouting fur like he's some kind of animal!

"Don't worry about it," you say, grabbing Amir's hand in an effort to calm him down. You might as well commit to his transformation at this point! It's obviously working!

"But, I'm so fat and hairy," he grunts slowly, "And I can't move ten inches without sweating like a pig!" his stomach growls before his bubbling up his chest, "Buur…brrruUuUUUP!”

"Hey these changes are normal, big guy," you pat him on his big meaty back, "I like the new Amir."

Amir frowns and rips his hand away from yours. Before you know it, he's stomping back over to the treadmill with heavy steps that shake the floor. He seems to have a little less patience than he used to. Maybe he's just frustrated by all the changes?

"Amir can we go now?" you ask for the third time in a row, "You've been staring at yourself in that mirror for an hour now!"

He doesn't seem to hear you. Amir has packed on so much fat, muscle, and hair that he looks completely unrecognizable. He almost seems more like he's an animal than your old friend.

He's been watching the final touches of his transformation take place in his new form, only pausing to occasionally scratch his ass or sniff his pits. Of course, the entire gym is giving him angry looks. A cloud of strong BO is wafting off of him, and it doesn't help that he keeps burping and farting loud enough for everyone to hear. Amir seems totally oblivious to how uncomfortable he's making everyone, so you're left to feel all the social awkwardness.

"Amir, come on," you tenderly grab his hairy forearm.

"GrrrUH!" Amir growls and rips his arm away again.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. You wanted Amir to look like a hairy beast, not act like one! How the hell are you supposed to get him out of here, let alone fall in love with you? He's acting like a big stupid caveman!

Feeling defeated, you stumble over to the locker room. If your going to leave, you at least want something to cover the tent in your shorts. Amir's bright yellow backpack would never fit on his massive frame anymore. He probably couldn't even remember how to put it on. With a sigh, you pick the thing up hold it close to your waist.

"MmnNanna?" a curious grunt comes as you reenter the gym. Amir, the huge hairy beast is staring at the yellow backpack with hungry eyes. "Nanna," he growls more definitively.

"You want a banana?" you ask gingerly.

"Mmmmngh!" he nods emphatically, licking his lips.

This is yellow backpack must be your ticket to controlling him! "Follow me," you smile, finally understanding how this beast of a man.

With lumbering steps, Amir stumbles behind you. It's a good thing he's hot, because he's lost all the intelligence he'd had before. All you had to do was say the word banana and now he's following you out to the car, drooling the entire way. You can't help but chuckle at your gigantic friend following behind you like a big dumb animal.

In the car, you toss the yellow bag as far back as you can. All three hundred pounds of Amir jumps inside and you slam the door shut behind him. Now you just have to get the guy home with him getting too angry.

"BuuuUughHnnannNnaAH!" he bellows, beating his chest with wild fury.

"Ok, ok! I'll go buy a damn banana."

"Nnngh!" Amir clenches your wrist before you can get out of the car. "...nanna!" he grunts, staring at your crotch like it's his first meal in weeks.

"Oh," you gasp. You didn't know he meant that banana. Amir's transformation might not have been what you expected, but you couldn't deny that you were enjoying your new friend. This is going to be an interesting car ride...

[1000plants]

You Don’t Know Pt 2

Steve Rogers x reader (GN)

Summary: Steve Rogers and his pretentious “know it all” attitude is getting on your last nerves. Neither of you know what to do about it. Maybe this nice little therapy session with our favorite therapist would help! 

Warnings- mentions diets and body image (no body description given, but comments on food are VERY briefly made.) The whole chapter is a therapy session, a brief flashback (blood, weapons, etc) 

Word count- ~4k

Authors Note- This has a little bit of backstory to it 👀👀 mostly me using my real therapy sessions as a twinge of inspo <3 I promise Steve will become more likable in the next few chapters, and we will also become a bit more bearable lmao. Still, enjoy xoxo

Chapter 2/?

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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The door to Dr. Raynor's office swung open, hard. The oak wood door smacked the wall loudly, bouncing back towards you with a dull thud. But your anger was faster than the door you were adjacently pissed at. You stormed into the room, the doctor wasn't even phased by your intense entrance. Your flare for the dramatic was always on show right before a session. Though, usually it was a brooding look, angry huff, and stomping feet. 

Red hot agitation was rare.

"made it." Was all you grumbled out, teeth aching from how firmly you were gritting them. You loudly sighed through your flared nostrils as you flopped onto the couch. Your body language was closed off, lying on your back with the heels of your palms pressing against your eyes. One leg bent up on the couch, the other hanging off and touching the floor. In your ideal world, you would've vented to Bucky or maybe JARVIS, not go to her. Neither of them really criticized you much for being pissed off with Steve.

Dr. Raynor just glanced over the top of her glasses, a single brow raised in your direction. She was used to your outbursts by now. She was just casually holding her notebook and pen, it seemed that she had been aimlessly drawing spirals on it before you stormed in. You were, admittedly, a bit surprised she was even expecting you to show up.

“So you decided to come today.” Dr. Raynor sat back in her chair, a small amused smile on her face. She let her hands relax, the notebook and her pen sat gently on her lap as she tilted her head toward you.

“And only 10 minutes late,” she added, pressing her lips together to avoid a bigger smile. She was clearly trying to hold back a laugh. Why exactly? You weren't exactly sure. She always acted as if there was a little secret between the two of you when obviously there wasn't.

"Rogers," was all you sharply replied with. You tried to seem disinterested, feeling slightly self-conscious about your obvious anger. Distracting yourself by looking out the window was always a good idea… even if there wasn't anything interesting outside.

Mh, Well…. Maybe the little joke was that you only ever complained about him… it wasn't even a funny joke.

You had spent a lot of time in therapy talking about your, oddly consistent, feud with Steve. The two of you just couldn't seem to get along. You swore up and down Steve was just a hardass who couldn't stand you. He’d make small jabs about your form on missions, every little mistake or slip-up, and even comment on your workout routines and diets. Which, considering Tony ate junk food every other meal, and you mainly stuck to the clean SHIELD Agent diet… the comments felt a lot more personal rather than constructive.

"He's still a dickwad," You added, removing your hands from your eyes and staring at the ceiling.

Hey, at least being ten minutes late meant you only had to be here for 50 minutes instead of a full hour. Not like you would've stayed full-time, anyway. You always had a plan in place to get out early. Whether that is a fake emergency call from Fury, a text from Bruce, or even an alert from JARVIS saying something was wrong at the tower.

You. Never. Stayed.

Dr. Raynor huffed a short laugh, picking up her notebook and pen from where they sat on her lap. She flipped to a new page, clean from her previous scribbling.

“You say that every week.” She responded with a small, amused smile. The sound of her pen softly writing against the paper was cue enough that she was noting your entrance and word usage. Admittedly, it was funny to think that she was writing dickwad in her professional therapy notes.

“I think you need to come up with new names for Steve. Dickwad is getting stale.” She hummed as if your conversation was normal. To give the doctor some credit, she was damn good at making you feel like you weren't an Avenger. Sometimes it was annoying, you'd feel like a child getting scolded… but most of the time you just felt a little more… normal. 

"He's.... uhhh," you sigh, wracking your brain for another insult. One that would be devastating, brutal, downright evil to call Steve… 

"old."

Dr. Raynor looked up from her notebook, a tickled smile on her face. “Very creative.” She replied, deadpan. She set down her pen, crossing her legs. “I’m assuming he was the one who caused a disruption in your usual routine this morning?”

Dr. Raynor has been keeping a close eye on your day-to-day functions over the past few months. Waking up at the relative same time every day. Breakfast, quick shower, brush teeth, workout, real shower, lunch, side work, dinner, hang out with some of the team, bed. That was the bare bones of your day, give or take a few things, you lived a fairly simple life. Save for, of course, the days you had missions, more intense workout sessions, or even a day off from being a hero. The only time a disruption became a problem was when that disruption was 6’2”, blonde-haired, and blue-eyed…

"He just can't be, just so... what's the word," you sigh, your anger more of just frustration and slight tiredness from the sparring session. You ran your tongue over your teeth, stopping yourself from gritting them more and giving yourself a bigger headache. Your hands had been laced over your stomach, but they were now picking at the other's nails.

"He just has to be so self-righteous all the time. He can't let anyone else... be better." you clarify, finding the right words. He hadn't let you bask in your moment of beating him at sparring, and that was picking in the back of your mind.

Dr. Raynor nodded in understanding, making a quick note in her notebook. “Is it fair to say that’s because of his leadership position?” She asked.

“Steve is very…. Particular about his role on the Avengers and taking charge. Does that make you feel like you’re being pushed aside?”

"I guess." you dryly admit. You hated when Dr. Raynor hit the nail on the head. Because of Steve, you were still being treated like a SHIELD agent that was war fodder… not like the impressive new Avenger you actually were.

"He still calls me "rookie" and "newbie" all the time, and I've been an Avenger for months and I've worked with SHIELD for years!" you grumbled. You crossed your arms over your chest, shutting your eyes and debating if the couch you were lying on was comfortable or not. 

Dr. Raynor continued to watch you with interest, still silently taking notes. Her pen on paper was a nice little change from the monotonous sound of the air conditioning in the room, “Sounds like Steve is still treating you like an inferior.” She mused. “How does that make you feel?”

The doctor knew that Steve’s stubbornness and tendency to boss you around wasn’t necessarily his fault-- soldier brain, she called it. She did wonder if there was something else to the tension between the two of you, though. She had mentioned it briefly, once, but you had just loudly laughed then left the room with a loud declaration that you needed a drink. It has been a Tuesday… 9 am. You were drunk by 10 that day.

"How do you think it makes me feel?" you sarcastically ask, opening your eyes to look at Dr. Raynor with an unimpressed glance. It was more of a glare, in all honesty. The woman was talking like it was a mystery how being treated like dirt might make a person feel.

You sigh and sit up on the couch, elbows on your knees as you move to plant your feet on the ground. You thought it was a nice way to keep yourself grounded, Dr. Raynor said it was a weak attempt to look intimidating. You rubbed your eyes and glanced out the window with a small exhale from your nose. The sky was slightly gray, it was early spring but there were still a decent amount of rain showers throughout the day.

The doctor clicked her pen as you looked out the window, a habit Dr. Raynor would point out what you did when you were trying to avoid the topic at hand.

“I think it makes you feel like a child.” Dr. Raynor responded bluntly. “Like he’s talking down to you, and treating you like you’re below him.”

You give her a small nod, lips tugged down in a small yeah, that's about right, expression.

“Have you ever told Steve how you feel?” Raynor questions. Her voice was mostly expressionless, though remained soft with a slight firmness laced in it.

You snort, shaking your head slightly. Your teeth play with your lower lip as you continue to look out at the New York skyline. It was an ugly view, but it beat the intense stare of a shrink.

"I tried once, but... I dunno, it didn't work." you shrug, acquiescing on your lack of engagement.

In all honesty, it was a half-assed attempt. You had brought it up mid-mission while you and Steve were getting shot at. But, in all fairness, you technically did try!

-------

The sound of the bullets hitting the soft dirt was oddly not scary. It was a lot more scary when the small grenade blew up the rotting tree just a few meters away. The blast threw you off balance just enough to send you rolling to your left. Landing on your already injured arm. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as pain rippled through your body, a bullet had already grazed your right arm, and now your left was definitely bruised along with the cut on your forearm that was now bleeding. The mud that had smattered on your face caused the scrapes and cuts to burn.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud voice snarls in your ear, “You've got to be more careful, rookie!” Steve said, roughly grabbing your forearm and pulling you from the ground.

The HYDRA base you had been sent to was a lot more guarded than Tony had thought It’d be. What was assumed to be 10 soldiers ended up being over 100. And they were a lot more than you had been prepared to deal with

“I-- Hey!” You yelp, face flushed red as the supersoldier manhandles you easily. You could take care of yourself, you didn’t need Captain Asshat to be covering you. 

And- Hey, wait? Natasha was your partner for this mission… Why was Steve here?!

“I can handle myself, Steve,” You huffed into the comms, immediately getting yourself back on your feet as you continued your rush back to the Quinjet. Sam had retrieved the data from the base you had needed, and since your little team of four was vastly outnumbered, y’all decided to just get back to the base ASAP. 

You forced your legs to carry you through the soft grass as you ran in pace with Steve. A small accomplishment you felt incredibly proud of.

“Sure you can,” Steve chuckles dryly, not even sparing you a look as you weaved through the wild plants, “That's why you almost got blown to pieces, yeah?”

“I tripped for a moment,” You counter, neither of you slowing down as the Quinjet came to view. Both of you rushing to just get into the damn thing.

“That moment could've cost you your life,” Steve reminds you, face stern as his feet pound at the metal of the ramp. He grumbles and yanks his helmet off, his face was dirty and sweat-clad from the mission.

Your retort of being an Avenger, just the same as him, was cut short by his finger being jabbed into your face and a stern glare. His light blue eyes never seemed more dangerous than when they stared icy daggers at you.

“You need to watch yourself. This isn't some SHIELD playground anymore. This is the real shit.”

-------

Dr. Raynor once again noted your distractions when talking about Steve.

The woman leaned back in her chair, a contemplative look on her face. “Why haven’t you tried again?”

“It’s important for you to be able to speak your mind, and let others know how you feel and see things.” The woman explained. “It’s how people fix issues and move forward.”

"Every time I bring it up, bring anything up to him... he compares me to Bucky or Natasha or Bruce. I can't just, ugh, be myself." you found the words slipping out faster than you could bottle them up.

"I need to be more stealthy like Natasha, more intuitive like Wanda... more open during therapy like Bucky," you said the last part mostly under your breath.

Your gaze fell to the floor, leg bouncing slightly. You bit the tip of your tongue, regretting letting the last part slip out.

Dr. Raynor was silently filling her notebook the whole time, letting you say whatever came to mind. You were starting to understand why Bucky saw the notebook as a more passive-aggressive statement rather than something helpful. You also partially wondered what she was writing.

She was probably drawing, you thought. Little houses, cats… disproportionate flowers...

“And you think Bucky is more open?” She questioned, a knowing smile on her face. You were snapped away from your thoughts of doodles by how quickly she picked up on your mumbled statement.

"According to Steve, he is." you shrug, nodding along to further give weight to your statement. You tilted your head towards the doctor, meeting her gaze for a moment and holding it.

Bucky had been going to therapy longer than you, so it made sense if he was further along than you were in terms of openness. You had seen two sides of Bucky, one side that liked cooking and helping you do art... and the other side that had horrid nightmares.

Bucky was the only other person who understood your nightmares on a truly personal level.

It was easy to see how you would feel inferior to Bucky—he’d been in therapy longer and had Steve’s favor and trust. He was also a war vet just like Steve, and the two men were close. And, being Bucky's friend always left you feeling second best when it came to who his best friend was… 

It just seemed like Steve never had the same patience with you as he did with Bucky.

Dr. Raynor hummed in thought, putting the tip of her pen to her chin. “And how do you feel about Bucky?”

"He's fine, I guess." you vaguely say, you had never really announced it, defined your relationship, "We're friends... that's probably what you'd call it."

You had plenty of friends. The other Avengers were all close with you, a few buddies from your SHIELD days, and a few civilian friends. Though, those were very few. Being involved in top government duties and now being a hero didn't let you keep around friendships with people who could get kidnapped

Dr. Raynor studied you carefully as you spoke about your friendships. It was rare for you to open up in a session—most days you were closed off and uncooperative, which meant the two of you were making notable progress -- slow progress.

But today was… different. You were being strangely open with Dr. Raynor about your thoughts. “That’s it? He’s fine?” She asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

“It seems like Bucky’s a good friend to you. Is there anything more to your relationship?” She continued to question. You had mentioned once how he understood your night terrors, though that was quite literally all you had said.

Normally Dr. Raynor wouldn’t dig so deep, but you were letting her get inside your head and ask questions. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to possibly know a little more. Plus, it was clear the last thing you wanted to talk about was Steve, so Bucky was the safe second option.

You were quiet for a long time, letting Dr. Raynor feared she had pushed too hard.

You ran your tongue over your teeth, doing basically every nervous tic a person could do: bouncing your leg, rubbing your nose, looking around, etc., all to make the doctor squirm.

"He's the only one who understands the nightmares," you finally say. Dr. Raynor knew all about your nightmares. They were brutal, to say the least. Consistently as bad as the worst of Bucky's nightmares.

Dr. Raynor’s expression softened in understanding. Bucky was your anchor when it came to the nightmares—he was the only one that actually understood them. At least, on the team.

As a therapist, she knew the importance of finding comfort in others. Especially for people with PTSD. In fact, she had encouraged Bucky to also confide a little in you as well. It helped him to talk to more than just Steve about his more intense emotions.

“Do you feel like Bucky understands your nightmares more than Steve?” Raynor asked.

You just wordlessly nod. Not like you had told Steve about them. Though, thinking about it, he most definitely knew a bit more than he was letting on. The man knew the ins and outs of the whole team.

"Ive never told Stve about them,” You admit with a sigh, “But, he was so quick to get Bucky on the field and all that shit," you reluctantly say, "he's treating me like a baby. Like I can't handle myself."

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that Steve was protective over you. The whole team was very protective over Bucky and his triggers. But you weren’t Bucky, and you weren’t an ex-brainwashed assassin. You just… merely got startled by very specific noises. Unlike Bucky, there wasn't a fear of you becoming a Winter Soldier… you just kinda cried.

“Steve’s always been overprotective of anyone in his team,” Dr. Raynor explained. “He’s like a hawk—he keeps an eagle eye on you all.” She watched you to see how you reacted to that statement.

"And he needs to fuckin' back off," you huff, crossing your arms and leaning back against the couch.

You were closing yourself off again, getting frustrated and slightly overwhelmed from it all. Dr. Raynor could probably get one last solid question out of you before the session would come to an end.

Raynor jotted down a quick note before looking back up at you, choosing her words carefully before she spoke.

“I have one last question for you before our session is up.” She announced, setting down her notebook.

You were surprised that it had already been over 45 minutes. You glanced at the clock then back to the therapist. Part of you was a little peeved you hadn't even noticed the silent notification of a faux JARVIS alert.

"Yeah, fine... what is it?" you sigh out, leaning your elbows against your knees. You were itchin' to get out of here now that you realized you had possibly been gettin’ a little too friendly with the doctor.

You were already imagining what you’d make for lunch, do some laundry, maybe bake a bit… There were a few pinterest recipes that had been callin’ your name.

Raynor knew you had a… complicated relationship with Steve, that much was insanely obvious. One that often teetered the line between workplace acquaintances and…. Something more.

Dr. Raynor was a professional, but she was also observant. And there was something between you and Steve.

“Do you ever feel frustrated with Steve because you like him?”

A look of confusion and disbelief slowly appeared on your face, your eyes widening slightly. It felt like you just suddenly got slapped with a brick.

Dr. Raynor’s expression never changed as she continued to stare at you, as you processed the question, and tried to formulate a response.

“It isn’t uncommon, you know.” She spoke after a moment. “To be more…” She looked for the right word. “… frustrated with someone you like.”

It wasn’t a secret that Steve was one of the most attractive men on the team. He was tall, muscular, handsome, and not to mention the leader of the Avengers thing, the whole hero thing.

So there was no doubt in Dr. Raynor’s mind that you felt an attraction to him, at least a physical one. If the doctor would speak bluntly, she'd tell you that your frustration with the Captain was bordering on sexual, and not one-sided.

You scoffed, oh, you were definitely on the defensive now, "Are you saying I'm horny and that's why I fight with Steve?" you practically laugh in disbelief, shaking your head no as you stand up. You weren't even going to entertain the thought. 

"You've lost your mind," you say under your breath, grabbing your bag by the door. You sling it over your shoulder, the earlier frustration of letting yourself be so vulnerable was coming back. You were so stupid, why the hell would you say any of that?!

Dr. Raynor didn’t react much to your comment, only letting a small smirk play on her lips.

The woman wasn’t necessarily trying to make the implication that you were horny for Steve. That was just the usual response she got from her patients when she brought up attraction to others. And, typically the only people who used that wording were the ones who actually felt it.

“I’m not saying anything,” She responded calmly as she got up from her chair. “I’m asking. There’s a difference.”

"Oh, you're asking," you drawl with an eye roll.

"No. No, I am not horny for Steven Grant Rogers." you firmly state, your expression stern as you look back at Dr. Raynor. With brows drawn in, and jaw tensed, your next words came out like a smooth venom.

"The man couldn't make me any less horny if he tried."

Dr. Raynor had to bite back a laugh at that statement, a sly smile appearing on her face. “I’m not sure about that.”

The woman didn’t want to come right out and state the fact that you were attracted to Steve, and probably more so than you thought. And that could be the reason for your dislike and frustration towards him.

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

"I'm not convincing anyone. I'm just stating the truth," you scoff, running your tongue over your lip.

"Look, do I have homework or something? Or can I just leave now and see you next week?" you quickly ask, your hand already on the door handle. You came into this session mad at Steve, and were leaving the session mad at Steve… Woo, therapy was really workin’ out for you, huh?

“You know I don’t give you ‘homework’.” Dr. Raynor responded in an unconvincing tone, watching as you opened the door. You fought back a painful eye roll, almost wanting to snip back, yeah, and I don't want to punch Steve. 

She was getting under your skin, and she knew it.

Instead, you settled for just yanking the door open, almost as violently as you had entered. You were quick to take a few steps out of the room.

As she watched you start to walk out of the office, the doctor spoke up once more, a smirk on her face. “Oh, and do say ‘hi’ to Steve for me!”

You didn't even look back at the doctor, just flipping her off over your shoulder.

You didn't like that session

Not one bit.

Though, unbeknownst to you, Dr. Raynor had accomplished what she set out to do—get under your skin and get you thinking.

In all reality, she figured you had more than just a physical reaction towards Steve. There was no way, she believed, that you and him purely fought because of fieldwork or Avenger duties. It just didn't fit the MO of either of you. Now, if only you would at least somewhat acknowledge it to your end… But you were just too stubborn and closed off to admit anything.

Raynor could ask you if the sky was blue, and you'd tell her it was any color but.

Though, and this went for just about anyone who had to work with superheroes, she liked a challenge.

[helplessautomaton]

I love amy AU

- wc: 1066 - tws: yandere, threats to reader (implied?), possessive hopefully i didnt go too soft as i fear i did but hey i tried and im still proud of it

Got this idea by spacexseven and oh my god the brain rot that i had for jouno’s part before actually writing it, i had sooo many ideas for him. Best read with a male reader but gn works as well.

Jouno:

Usually talking wasn't exactly your type, getting into drama even less so, but you can't help but overhear talks about a Jouno. Figuring that you won't ever actually talk to the man, you ignored all the sadist claims about him. Afterall it was none of your business, but you should’ve have been wary about the rumors. There were instances where you did see him in passing, a tiny smile on his face. Other than those times you weren't concerned when really you should have at least kept your guard up.

All it took to get your attention was a tap on your shoulder and a condescending smile that gave off a strong warning. To say it irked you would be an understatement. 

The conversation he started, began fairly casual, asking about what you were doing. This calamity quickly broke when he asked about your business with X, claiming that they were simply too busy to interact with strays. He also attatched vague threats while asking you questions moreso related about X. his smile getting ever so slightly bigger when you staggered back in a wave of uncomfortability. You had your best efforts to explain how it was for work and nothing more, you and X only having a lukewarm understanding of each other. It took a lengthy amount of unnerving silence and Jouno’s expressionless face to turn into a quiet hum from him. Putting up a hand to his chin in thought, until he asked you for more information on X and to take notes for him. Obviously not without poorly concealed threats about if you didn't comply those “rumors" would be tested out on you. 

At least you weren't dead or injured so you’ll take it to avoid being those two things in the near future.

He ended up forcing you to go to a cafe to meet up with him every other week, giving him the notes and briefly explaining what was in them. These notes were mainly audio based to make it easier for him, while you didn't mind doing it, he would complain about how you sounded in them. This was his favorite part of these meetings, making you stressed out and audibly groan at his complaints. Not to mention the degrading comments that came with the meetings. You attempt to say if he ever wanted to get with X the degrading comments had to go, he simply hummed in response, effectively ignoring you. He annoyed you to no end but you gained a little odd sense of pride noting everytime he would give a little smile towards your work.

Soon these meetups became more during the week, instead of 0-1 per week, it started to become 2-3 a week. These updates in schedule made you panic due to the notes you had to record for him, (you knew if you brought this up he’d just laugh cruelly at you).  

However, during this time period something strange started to happen with his attitude towards people around you, mainly any close friends near to you. Whisking you away from your friends because in his words “you’re supposed to be taking notes for me not getting distracted.” and overall trying to intimidate anyone that came close. 

You decided to ignore it since he was more focused on getting information and would not accept you slipping up. The only thing making you want to bash your head in was his sometimes cocky comments about how X should be glad he's seeking them out. Casually noting how he talked about them like an object at times, something he's gonna win, a prize. Overall despite this, you came to like Jouno as a person despite his odd moments of pride but you weren't one to judge after all. (The way he bluntly and sometimes rudely talks to X makes you heavily conflicted.) Sometimes he’d let you vent your own troubles while giving his own advice, be it in a more joking way. It made you loosen up your guard for him but it still felt off, knowing it would never be a proper friendship with the man.

The next time you two meet up, he buys your drink along with something else from the menu, claiming it was for all your hard work as of late. Jouno gave a genuine smile at your reaction towards his generosity. You gave him a small comment about how this would be a great start for X. This wasn't the right move apparently. He immediately tenses up, starts scolding you on how you weren't grateful for what he did for you and not X. After nervously drinking while avoiding Jouno's heavily annoyed expression, you were ready to leave. After a while he apologizes for his sudden outburst, saying he’d take your words into consideration. 

Eventually when you were close to him, he would ask if you could make the notes about yourself instead of X. it caught you off guard but you went along with it, agreeing to do so (it also cured the major headache about scraping for information about X). Sometimes when you were drinking, he'd reach over to your free hand and squeeze with enough pressure to make it hurt. Jouno was adoring the pained breaths that came out of your mouth along with your obvious pained reaction physically. The more degrading comments start to become more frequent while oddly being overly possessive of you. Yet you wanted to continue being ignorant and think he's just being stressed over his own work and future with X. he visited you everyday he could, smiling every time you’d look his way. But this has its downside, driving away anyone who dared try to talk or engage with you about anything.

Then it came full circle, you needed to talk to X about something related to your actual work. You hadn't noticed Jouno following you. Getting a few sentences in before you’re engulfed by Jouno’s arms around your waist. 

X was tensed up, unwilling to look your way, the air became eerily strained.

“Darling, what are you doing talking to strays that aren't worth our time?” 

A/N, i hope those last words work but im willing to change them later down the line if i ever add this into a compilation if i continue to do I Love Amy au's

like i said i hope i didnt go too soft here

[secndlife]

📂 u can have a kiss too 💋

“Sit,” you told Soonyoung, pointing to the chair placed in the middle of the bathroom. Your tone was soft and had no hints of command.

He sighed, “This fucking sucks.” You had never seen him so defeated. 

You placed yourself in front of him, hand moving to brush his hair to the side in an attempt to provide comfort. “I’m sorry.”

His shoulders moved in a shrug, “It’s not your fault.”

You were at work when you got a call informing you know Soonyoung was at the hospital. There was a situation at the dance studio with one of his kids and he ended up breaking an arm and spraying his ankle. Now, several hours, a cast, and a big pharmacy run later, the two of you were finally home and Soonyoung wanted nothing more but to take a shower and sleep it off. He hoped it was a nightmare and that he’d be in one piece by the morning. 

Given his injuries, he’d have to rely on you for basically everything for a while. Even for the stupid shower he wanted to take.

“I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can imagine this isn’t easy, so I’m sorry you’re going through it.” 

Soonyoung gave you a faint smile, “Thanks, babe.” 

You just nodded in response, “Can you raise your arm, please? Let’s take this shirt off.” 

He tried to help you as much as he could, but the cast made everything harder. He hated it. All of it.

Soonyoung had always valued his freedom and independence. And much like any other human, he liked to be in control of the situation. Not being able to do something as small as taking his shirt off made him feel insignificant. Unworthy. 

It must have shown on his face, as you questioned him a moment after placing his shirt on the laundry basket. “What’s with the frown?”

“This fucking sucks,” he repeated. “I can’t even shower by myself. This is such a stupid injury.” You offered him a sympathetic look. Knowing him as much as you did, you understood he just wanted to vent for a while. Complain about the situation he found himself in. 

So when you didn’t do anything besides pet his hair, he continued. “This is gonna make everything so difficult. Not just for me, but for you too. And you’re already so stressed with work that I feel like I’ll just add another burden to it and—”

“Hey, no.” Soonyoung looked up at you, lips shaped in a pout. “It doesn’t matter that I’m stressed with work. You’re not a burden, and you won’t ever be that.”

Soonyoung shook his head in disagreement, “You’re literally having to undress me so you can help me shower. How’s that not a burden?”

He didn’t like this conversation. He didn’t like any of this. His thoughts, his feelings, his pain. He hated it. In theory, Soonyoung was well aware that you didn’t see him that way. But the frustration that was growing inside him at every passing second clouded his mind in a way that he couldn’t see this mess in any other way. 

“Remember when I got sick a couple of weeks ago, and you had to clean up my vomit from the floor? And do everything else, basically?” He nodded. “Was that a burden for you?”

“No,” he answered, biting the insides of his cheek. “Never.”

“Exactly.” You took his free hand between yours, palms caressing his skin. “When I say I love you, taking care of you is just another way to show it.”

“It’s just. Urgh.” He couldn’t externalize his thoughts properly. “I don’t know. I like being independent.” Another sigh left his body. “And the timing for this is terrible. You have a lot going on, and I don’t want to add to it.”

You smiled at him, “I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” 

Silence. Soonyoung hated all of this.

“Don’t think too much of it,” you declared. "It’s okay to be annoyed and sad." He needed to understand you weren't trying to dismiss his feelings. This was, indeed, a shitty situation. So he had every right to feel shitty over it. You just wanted to show him that you were there, and that love didn't cost a thing.

Not for you. Not for him.

"Just don’t see this as oh my god this awful thing that will consume me and make me tired.” You squeezed his hand, “I love you, and this is just something we do for the people we love.”

His eyes were slightly less sad now. It was barely noticeable. You guessed it would take some time for them to recover their usual stars.

“This just really, really sucks,” Soonyoung said, once again. A broken record. A broken Soonyoung.

“I know.” You leaned in, hands still holding his, and placed a kiss on his forehead. Gently. Lovingly. “It’ll pass.”

Everything passed. Everything but your love for him.

[alovelyburn]

Hey! Been a bit of a quiet fan for a while, but I was showing the old 97 anime to my Partner, and I had a thought I hadn't seen anyone else discuss. In Casca's flashback, did Griffith intend to give Casca the sword? I looked back in my volumes, and I think the answer is probably, but heres the idea: Griffith's band had the intention of robbing the Noble, who griffith cuts to get his attention, and then has a speech about how entitled Nobles are. So then he throws down a sword and is like "If you have something to protect, take up the sword"

In that moment, Casca grabs it instead. And then Griffith is just kinda going to leave her after comforting her afterwards. Like, clearly yeah its meant as a moment Griffith Empowers Casca to protect herself, but we also know that she idolizes Griffith, so she could also be misinterpreting his intentions.

I'm not trying to be a buzzkill or anything here, but I think the chances that he was actually throwing the sword to the noble are pretty close to zero. There are a few reasons, some character-centric and some narrative-centric.

From a character-centric point of view, it doesn't really make any sense for him as a person. Griffith hates nobles. His disdain for their sense of superiority and entitlement is touched on from time to time - like when he complains to Guts that he has to deal with them in order to seek status, not to mention his barely veiled distaste for people like Julius or the Queen. It's also pretty evident in the way he's running Falconia because he's out there insisting that they educate commoners and give everyone the chance to advance based on their abilities and drive. More than that, though, Griffith himself is a walking indictment on the nobility's stranglehold on power. By contrast he's much more sympathetic to the needs of people who weren't born to power.

He's also pretty consistently protective of Casca in that kind of situation - he has the impulse to defend her vs Wyald as well, he just... can't. And when they first start working for Gennon and she's shaken by the child sex slaves, he picks that up and tries to comfort her.

He also shows no particular tolerance for that kind of behavior in general - one thing that's consistent across both the original and the reborn Band of the Hawk is the standard of behavior he holds his men to. Apostles aren't allowed to vent their violent impulses, for example, and notably, the Golden Age Hawks aren't exactly leaving a trail of plundered and raped people everywhere they go. He controls the damage done as much as possible.

My point being if he comes across a peasant girl being sexually assaulted by a drooling nobleman and makes a disdainful remark about the noble thinking he has the right to do whatever he wants just because he was born noble, I just don't see his next action being to throw the nobleman a sword. When he asks if being noble means he's been chosen by god, it's not a real question, it's an insult.

Also, just logistically speaking...

He threw it to Casca. If it were any closer to her, it would have pinned her.

But also, me being me, the main issue I have here is that it would have little effect on the narrative while still somehow undermining the point of the story.

Let's say that Griffith was throwing it to the noble. Why? Not just why would he, Griffith, do it, but why would Miura put it in the story? Like what purpose would that misunderstanding serve, given that Casca didn't perceive it that way and neither did anyone else, and then it never came up again?

If it were revealed during the Golden Age it could have been used to help Casca move on from Griffith but at this point it really wouldn't add anything.

And yet, at the same time, it would create issues within the narrative - it undermines the horror of Griffith's moral reversal if he was rapist-friendly the whole time, for example, and also... Griffith's story is meant to be a fall from grace, not a progressive reveal that he was always a huge dick. The fact that he begins as an idealistic kid who protects random girls and takes in everyone who wants to hang out with him and doesn't start to change until he's hit with a reality stick is critical to the tragedy of the narrative.

This is kind of a tangent, but it does come to mind a lot when I read fan theories: for me, when assessing the likeliness that a theory (mine or anyone else's) will pan out there are a few critical questions to answer: What would that add to the plot? Would it clarify or just muddy the waters? And if it's muddying the waters, does the mud contribute anything necessary? Would it actually make any difference or just be a point of trivia without much impact? And of course "would the character do that," but...

To me the most critical question is always "if this were true, what would it change?" This is the most important question for two reasons.

First, because if a story is constructed with any competency at all, then everything (or nearly everything anyway) has a reason to be there whether that reason is plot development, character development or, ideally, both. So if the answer is that it wouldn't change anything really then it's probably not true.

Second, and just as importantly (maybe even moreso tbh), is... sometimes it would change things, but the change it would create is kind of obviously wrong because if it were correct then the story wouldn't be doing what it's doing, or the point would have to be a different point.

An easy example is the theory that Zodd is Guts' father. I don't really care whether or not he is, but I don't believe the theory to be true, because Miura had said that Guts being human is the point. Making him half-demon would be change the point being made, thus it's probably wrong.

Most of the popular Griffith interpretations fall into this category as well because, as we frequently discuss, if he didn't love the Hawks/Guts then he wouldn't be Femto right now ("if it were right, then the story wouldn't be doing what it's doing") and the whole purpose of Griffith's arc in the Golden Age is undermined if he isn't what he's presented to be - a well-intentioned and idealistic but flawed man struggling under the weight of his own dreams and promises (the point would need to be a different point).

90% of the time if I disagree with a fantheory or interpretation it's going to be for the final reason tbh. Because ultimately the future is open but the past by its nature has to lead to where we are.

Sorry if I'm being a bummer, but thanks for the ask. <3

[ltleflrt]

AO3 tos anon here, thank you for all the explanation.

I actually sometimes wonder myself what’s my stakes in following a lot of spntwitter drama 🙈 I think in this particular case, I just wanted to know the truth. I understand you don’t have concrete proof but as I said I take your word because I know you from outside of the twitter echo chamber and trust you. I also wanted to figure out if AO3 is basically deleting fics just like that but your explanation makes sense as to why they’re doing it.

The fact that reporting trolls should chill, though, I fully agree with.

GAH, THE TUMBEASTS ATE MY FIRST ANSWER. I'm still gonna end up being long winded about this though cuz it gets me pretty heated. I try not to talk about it, but then someone asks me about it and oh lord here I go lol

I honestly don't care if there's a ringleader or just a well organized group. I just wish that the Reporting Trolls would consider printed fics the same as classic 'zines and get the fuck over it. Reporting printed fics can bring down the attention of the IP holders too, so they're not the Fandom Heroes they think they're being.

And when it comes down to it, I don't think they're really trying to protect fandom. If that was the case, there wouldn't be fanfics publicly posted on Lulu that have been sitting their for several years. They're targeting specific creators who have gone out of their way to keep the links hidden or private. So I think there's a kernel of truth to the idea that they're doing this out of jealousy. If it's That One Author that seems to be the ringleader, she may be upset that other people are getting more attention than she does. If it's her fans, they may be upset that their favorite author isn't getting as much attention as they think she deserves. It's even possible that they're not aware of what they're really doing, so they fall back on "BUt pRoFIT".

This whole thing about "but Lulu makes money!" will forever drive me nuts. Lulu would make the same amount of money selling paper and ink on a book that's just 700 pages of the word "Orange" typed on repeat as they would selling paper and ink on a book that's 700 pages of my story. The paper and ink is only worth paying for because of me, and I'm not making any money from the work I'm doing.

Look I can prove that, at least :D

Hell, I'm losing money on it. I pay fanartists to create covers for me. I'm bad at formatting the PDF, so I pay people to format it properly for me. I've spent hundreds of dollars to make these prints look nice and semi-professional. I give away copies for free to the artists and the people who help me with the formatting, and some of these are over $20 because of how thick they are.

Everyone is getting something out of this EXCEPT for me!

*huffs and puffs in irritation*

The AO3 stuff is, unfortunately, squidgy. Over the years I've heard of other things getting reported on AO3 where authors have complained that they weren't given enough opportunity to clean up whatever the violation was, or the AO3 staff wouldn't/couldn't tell them where the violation was hiding. If something is reported, it's going to come down to a judgement call from an AO3 employee. As someone who has had to make judgement calls on things that are grey areas, I can tell you it's tough. And sometimes it's best to err on the side of caution, which is usually not in the customer's favor. Without knowing exactly what was behind the AO3 staff's decision to delete, I can't say whether their decision is fair or not. It is scary though, because it's hard to tell whether an offhand comment will get you in trouble or not, and it puts us all on edge when we hear about something getting deleted.

Anyway, sorry I went on a vent session again. I'm glad you got some answers that at least made you feel better ;D

[r3stingangel]

Jesus😭– WILL YOU TAKE YOUR RANT OUT OF THE X READER TAGS???? It's ALSO NOT an x reader. Why do you mfs who always complain, always do the same hypocritical shit you hate others seeing?

"well it's mentioned as x reader!" Is it a fic? I don't think so😭. At least the "dazai/oc" is written as an actual fanfic. Your rant is not only clogging up the tags, but you're ABUSING the tag system as well.

I also saw your last response to that other anon.

"I was actually tagging properly, I was bringing to light an issue present in those spaces. Hope this helps :3" No tf you weren't 😭. It's not actually an issue that horribly affects anybody (just an annoying trait that is passed along these platforms), hope this helps you! You're turning a small thing on fic platforms into something bigger. Like, you're in your every right to complain about stuff like these, but what you shouldn't be doing is complaining about the mfs doing something you hate- while doing the same exact shit as them.

"(Also I am a fucking hypocrite, but not about these types of things so get it right)" Nah. Nah bro the other Anon is right. ANYONE who mistags their things automatically falls into one category; tag abusers. And your rant was filled with it. A bunch of "x reader" up in there.

Exactly like the "dazai/oc" thing you saw, you just wanted attention/to note fish like the fic 😭. C'mon lil bro, you could just admit that part at least. No need to showcase a know-it-all, narcissistic act as a response. So yeah? You're not a different hypocrite by wanting to "bring light to this problem", you're the same type of person who lacks a huge amount of awareness 😭 insane honestly.

"Oh did I strike a nerve? 🤓☝️" Yeah you kinda did and I didn't wanna subpost about you, so take this rant about you in your inbox directly.

It's also the way you COULDNT tag your shit properly either. Don't just slap your mfing vent tag on there without using cw rant/tw rant or something similar 💀. "I was actually tagging properly 🤓" And you go ahead to NOT tag your shit as rants so other people didn't have to see it. Remember! Not everyone follows you- They wouldn't know that you got a vent tag! So they'll see it anyways cause they can't filter it! Oh my goodness! I hope this helps 🙏!!!!!

(Most people see it through reblogs as well, which is up to the reblogger to tag it accordingly. But hey! At least it'll filter through the x reader tag if you actually cw/tw it accordingly like you should've!)

Oh btw you can delete this little rant of mine from your inbox if you're just gonna formulate another dumbass response to me like you did the other Anon. Just tag your shit as cw rant/tw rant at least, that's the least you could do if you wanted to be "different" from other tag abusers😐.

Sometimes i wonder if people realize that I'm a teen before they get all cranky at me... I'm a dumb teenager, plus im autistic so something that might come as basic knowledge to one, might not be basic knowledge to me

I'm still learning, I'm just a teen, I'm still just in highschool, I'm going to make mistakes in my understanding of things, its human nature

Also if someone is gonna get triggered by a rant, they should gtfo the Internet/gen

Flashing lights, i get, r*pe/sa, p*dophilia, I get, but a rant? Words on a screen? Im not gonna treat the Internet like a child.

[idledreams4]

not appologizing for that last post, I'm never going to apologize for doing my job, there's just something I wanted to say that didn't need to be part of the last post

I really feel like an angel again after that

I've mentioned before that I was a guardian angel at one point

It's why I take to my roles as the guardian alter, and the older sibling, and the "mom friend" so well

And standing up and fighting for what I know in my heart is right is exactly how I got myself thrown out of heaven

But it feels good, it feels right

And that little tangent/vent post/whatever you want to call it brought me right back to when I was standing before Michael, promising him another war if he didn't step down off his high horse and quit playing God.

I try to be the good little soldier. I do what I'm told and I don't even think about complaining. But I can't stand by injustice.

When I speak up it's for a serious reason. And if I'm ignored, laughed at, cast aside, ect. the only thing that's achieved is making me angry. And let me say: incurring my wrath is never a good idea.

A while back I mentioned a promise I'd made to Michael. I didn't share it because that ask game was being tagged so people outside my circle could find it. This won't really be.

He got the war I warned him of. And when Jophiel put an end to it I was sure I was going to be executed.

But Jophiel continued to fight for me.

All I'd wanted was for man not to be forced to suffer.

So it was proposed I be cast out of heaven, forced to live among man.

The other archangels were convinced it was a fair punishment, and with all of the blood that had already been shed they weren't keen on an execution.

Michael listened to them, and I was banished to Earth.

But before I fell I told him I'd bring Hell to his gates if that's what it was going to take. And I stand by it.

I share that only so everyone can understand that despite my gentle nature I WILL fight tooth and nail for what's right.

I'd sooner see my home destroyed than have a tyrant leading the angels and giving commands in God's name that all of us know he would never sanction.

I was given a way to return to Heaven. But I refuse to take it. I've told Jophiel that the only way I'll return is if Michael is gone.

[delightful-69]

Aile without the bodysuit (and earpiece)

[kim-seung-mo]

hi! i love your writing so much! could i request when their s/o who doesn't really vent or complain much finally breaks down? how would skz comfort them? 🥺

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝔹𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟

or…stray kids reacting to when their s/o who doesn't complain finally breaks down

♩ g/n!reader, hurt and comfort, mostly angst and a little fluff at the end, a lot of crying

♩♩ word count: 2.3k (yeah it's a bit longer than normal hcs)

♩♩♩ A/N: I basically wrote a whole fic on this for chan so I'm just gonna leave a link to that for him

prompt list here (or you can request ur own)

(don't ask me why some (felix) of these are wayyy longer than others...I just got really carried away lol)

Chan

this chan one-shot I wrote pretty much is exactly this prompt but even more pain (?) so if you want a "break-up then getting back together" with a lot of crying, go ahead and read it! If not, here's a shortened version:

He wasn't someone who would take advantage of your patience, or test it.

But stress could sometimes turn his head.

He hasn't slept well for many days consecutively.

From what his members told you, he didn't seem to be eating properly either.

Today you were a little worried and brought along food you made to the studio, but was scolded by him in front of Changbin and Jisung.

You couldn't stand his reaction, but in order not to let him lose face in front of members, you held back your anger and left his studio in disappointment.

He would immediately notice his fault and properly admit his fault to you.

When he saw you crying, he was about to fall to his knees and slap himself in front of you.

"Don't cry, baby, I know I was wrong, it's all my fault… It's my fault, I shouldn't have spoken to you as I did …… Everything you did was for my own good, how could I not cherish you? I'm just… the worst boyfriend ever ……"

You weren't going to be continuously angry at him either, after all, who could stay angry at Chan?

It's just that for the next many days he'd be extra cautious.

Constantly promising you that he'll never throw his temper on you ever again.

Minho

If Chan never tests your boundaries… All I can say is that Minho tries your boundaries 24/7.

At least, it felt like it.

Sometimes you even felt like he might not love you very much.

(You were very wrong, he just might be the most loving person in the world. It's just unfortunate that he's a tsundere who doesn't want to, and doesn't know how to express it)

You knew he liked to tease others, not out of true malice, it was just a way for him to show closeness.

But sometimes, you still thought sometimes, unconsciously, that there was more to his words.

He sensed something off when you didn't answer him with a smile as usual.

He wanted to apologize immediately, after all, hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do.

But before he could say anything, he heard your sob.

In that moment, it was as if all rationality had left his head.

He rushed up and stopped in front of you, wanting to reach out and hug you, but hesitated.

He didn't know if you wanted his hug right now.

"I'm sorry …… I, I didn't mean it like that ……"

You heard an unprecedented level of apology in his tone.

Only after making sure you didn't reject his physical contact did he gently bring you into his arms.

"Y/N…you know the one thing I can't stand to see is you crying ……"

Changbin

Perhaps because you never really expressed that "you needed him ", he had always thought that you were a rather independent person.

You were independent, but that didn't mean you didn't need him when you were vulnerable.

When you came home today, you didn't know why, but it was as if all the stress and emotions of the past few months had come flooding back.

He was always very assertive in what he did, but at that moment he suddenly didn't know what to do.

He felt a pain in his chest, and wanted to try to do something to make you feel less sad.

He opened and shut his mouth a few times, but he couldn't get a single word out.

He had never seen you like this before, your vulnerable side, needing help.

"Y/N…you still have me, I'm right by your side ……"

In the end, that's all he came out with.

But really, just knowing that he was still there for you was enough.

As long as he could show that he cared about you and wanted to help you, it was enough.

Hyunjin

A fight with Hyunjin was essentially a one-sided complaint from him.

No, calling it a "fight" would be incorrect. After all, he was almost always the only one talking.

You had a good temper and you basically didn't argue with anyone as long as they didn't hit your no-go areas.

With Hyunjin, most of the time he would just ramble on and on, and you thought he was kind of cute when he rambled on like that.

But for some reason, you just didn't like hearing him talk like that this time.

For the first time, you got angry with him, raised your voice, and made a face he hadn't seen before.

He froze for a moment, and a feeling of frustration that came out of nowhere came over him.

He hurriedly turned away, not wanting you to see his damp eyes.

He knew it was his own fault, and that it was you who should be more in need of reassurance right now.

But he couldn't stop his disobeying tears either.

For the first time, he saw you angry, at him.

He was afraid.

You took a few deep breaths and largely eased up.

"Jinnie…? I was… I don't know what just happened to me ……"

The nearly 180cm tall man was holding his own shoulders, sniffling like a frightened little animal.

"I'm sorry ……"

You heard him whisper, so faintly that you almost didn't catch it.

"Jinnie?" "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Y/N ……"

He turned to you and hugged you, grabbing the fabric on your back and speaking in a weepy voice.

"I'll never do it again… Don't make that face, don't get mad at me, I, I don't want to …… I don't want to see you like this, I'm scared ……"

"Don't be afraid… There's no need to be afraid. I would never do anything to hurt you or really be angry with you. And you know that, right? I love you too much ……"

Not sure how long these words were repeated later before he finally was at ease.

Jisung

You always listened to his troubles, his trivialities, his heart.

But every time it was your turn, he seemed to be busy and always had other "more important things" to do.

In your mind, things about him were the most important things.

But perhaps to him, your worries and heartfelt words weren't very important.

"I sometimes… I don't think you actually care about me much at all."

"……. What?"

When he heard you say that, he felt his heart pause.

How could you think that? What on earth did he do to make you think that way?

He thought you knew that he wouldn't be able to live at all without you.

"If you really did care about me, Jisung, why weren't you ever interested in what was going on with my life? Why do you never come to care about me when I look sad and upset?"

It was the first time he heard you say such words, the first time he heard you express your "need for care".

"It's not that… It's not like that. ….. Y/N……"

He frowned and rushed to your side to hold your face in his hands.

"I care about you, I just …… I was just so stupid, I thought you didn't say anything because you wanted to be on your own- I, I was really stupid. It's really stupid now that I think about it …… I'm sorry, I'm sorry …… I'm so awful, I ……"

If you thought Hyunjin had cried a lot, you must have never seen Jisung cry.

He canceled all his work plans that night and stayed by your side to keep you company.

You two cried like that for hours.

Felix

You didn't want to show your sad side in front of Felix.

He was your little sunshine, always smiling and making your every day better.

You thought you should give him all the good things too, not your tears or bitterness.

But what you didn't realize was that he actually took everything in stride.

Every time you held back, every time you silently sighed, it was like a small dagger stuck in his heart.

In his eyes, your behavior was as if you "did not trust him ".

After he had such thoughts, he began to distance himself from you.

And you weren't stupid, you realized within a few days that something was wrong with him.

You felt as if your little sun was starting to dim.

This only made you even more upset and confused.

You finally couldn't stand it and called out to him when he turned away immediately after seeing you.

"Did I do something wrong?"

His back trembled a little.

"Is it because I've done something wrong that you've been distancing yourself from me?"

"I distanced myself from you?" He turned back to you, his eyes filled with sadness.

"Felix?"

"Am I the one distancing myself from you, or are you the one distancing yourself from me? Y/N, you never complain to me, you don't speak your heart to me, you never rely on me! What do you want me to do if you don't show your heart to me?Y/N…I don't want to let go …… But I feel like I'm the only one in love."

You too finally couldn't help yourself. Your clenched fist trembling.

"I don't complain, I don't speak from my heart, I don't vent negative energy to you because I'm afraid it will affect you! I'm afraid you might get upset because of me …… You are already tired from your work, you don't need more burden ……"

"How can you say your business is burdensome?"

He seemed to get a little angry, walking quickly up to you to stare you in the eye.

You had calmed down somewhat when you saw his expression, but your mouth still started moving on its own.

"I want you to see only the good side of me Felix …… I do this because… Because I know deep down that I'm not worthy of-"

He didn't wait for you to finish your sentence as he immediately cupped your face and pressed his lips into yours, making you swallow back the last bit of that sentence.

Kisses with Felix were always sweet.

But this time it was bitter.

"I forbid you to say that, forever."

"You're going to rely on me and say everything to me. You will let me bear with you all the things between the two of us. I will not allow you to hold back by yourself. And you will definitely not be allowed to say ridiculous things like you don't deserve me."

"Y/N, I don't know how many times I have to say "I love you" before you believe me, but if you need 100 times, I'll say it 1000 times. If you need 1,000 times, I'll say it 10,000 times!"

He really was the sunshine that lit up your life, your little sun.

Seungmin

You were really not a person who liked to complain and thought that everything was something that could be tolerated.

Seungmin, like you, was also someone who basically didn't talk about their troubles and liked to digest them by themselves.

But lately, you really felt like the whole world was your enemy, and Seungmin was the only one on your side.

When he opened the door at night and saw you crying alone on the couch, he was absolutely frozen.

He stood still as if his brain had stopped working.

You thought he would laugh at you and take a picture of your crying face and send it to the rest of the members.

But he came and sat down next to you and hugged you silently.

He knew you were under a lot of pressure lately, from all aspects of your life.

Only when you were at home, when you were with him did you find yourself a last safe haven.

How could he possibly laugh at you at such a time?

Where you couldn't see, his eyes were reddened as well.

"It's funny, isn't it, the way I look now ……"

"Not at all."

He tightened his arm around you, trying hard to make you feel his warmth.

"Seungmin…I just feel so tired ……"

"I know, I know …… You can rest now that I'm here."

Jeongin

He was easily driven by emotions and couldn't stand seeing anyone cry.

But especially when he saw you crying, his tears literally slid down in a flash.

He knew that you like to endure stress by yourself, and he watched in silence.

It is just that he is young, and sometimes doesn't really know what to do in the face of such things.

He wanted to help you, but felt that maybe letting you alone was the right choice.

Only when you broke down like now, did he have the confidence to come to your side.

He gently stroked your back and sobbed himself, but insisted on smoothing your breath.

He rested his forehead on your back, didn't speak, simply stayed by your side.

He wouldn't initiate conversation, but if you did, he would respond to your words competently.

After you were "back to normal ", he asked you cautiously about "what I should do next time if this happens again?"

You were amused by his cute and sincere question and reached out to pet his fluffy head.

Then patiently answered each of his questions.

You asked him, too, what he wanted you to do when he was feeling upset.

He was happy that with this conversation, he got to know you a little better and felt closer to you.

[thewrittingpan]

Painting Lies

Feitan/reader (with a slight mention of phinks/reader and shalnark/reader)

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

He was surprisingly gentle. Nails would carve jagged lines down your legs, he’d press bruises into your skin. The burning of ointment, and warm water often pull gasps from your throat. The stinging and burning of the cuts grasped the air in your chest by its tail, twisting and tugging until it was yanked out, the same way he used pliers on that poor man's teeth when he was annoyed. At least you weren't left with gaping bloody holes when your breath and whines were ripped out.

You met him at an exhibition. There was a gentle background of classical music, a flood of people chattering away as they strolled through the exhibit. You hid in plain sight, your name tag on your chest, staring across the room at a piece made by someone else. Their line work was wonderful, each mark beautifully dragged your eyes across the piece in a loop. Its web pushing you out and pulling you in again. You hated it, it wasn’t bad no, but it was exactly what you wished to be. You were jealous, so filled with envy that you wanted to scream, to cry, and to throw a fit, sob into your pillow, and be comforted by your old stuffed friend.

You liked your little corner, and you happily talked with no one, becoming quick friends with the snack table. A few people came over to complement your work, and you nodded and thanked them. Perhaps you were too anxious, maybe it was a bad day, but you felt like your thanks were forced. It felt like you were stripped bare in front of them, caught halfway through changing. Plucked from the shower, your hair still dripping wet, as if you were halfway through shampooing.

He was different. His eyes were sharp, he felt social-avoidant, more so than you. You stood silently near each other for a while. You still felt like you were on a platter but less so as he took the liberty of glances at your name tag and gazed across the room. He stepped closer as the room grew less crowded.

“You made those?” he motioned toward your section of the exhibition.

You nodded slowly, feeling as if you were shivering like a scared dog.

“They’re good.”

“Thank you.”

You stole sips from your drink, glancing up at him every so often. He looked nice in the suit, it was tailored well, and the vents in the back didn't have the shipping treads still attached. You noticed that it helped you realize who was most likely to have money, and at the very least let you know who knew how to dress in a formal setting.

“The one-piece, with the organs, looked real.”

“Oh? Yeah, I stared at images of surgery the whole time while painting it.” You twirled your straw around your glass. The ice tapped against the cup, like the glass wind chimes that hug from your balcony. Your downstairs neighbor complained about them and you had to get rid of them. Sometimes you still see yourself sitting there in your chair, with your cat tucked behind your feet sleeping. “I didn't get the color right, I should have worked on it longer, it doesn't have enough eye movement.” The piece you’ve been glaring at didn't have those imperfections.

“I like it.”

I like talking with you. “I’m glad.”

You saw the time, realizing you had to go. There were awards to be handed out, and all of them were another reason for you to grow jealous. You wondered if stuffing your pockets full of snacks would be a good thing to come from this night.

“Are you going to the award ceremony?”

He looked back at you, thinking about it perhaps, you wouldn't blame him. They can be boring, especially if they’re unnecessarily long. He nodded, stepping forward without saying anything. He looked over towards you, waiting only a moment before you walked alongside him.

Your table was close to the walls. Nicely placed close to the snacks and drinks, but not close enough to have people hovering behind you. Having your pieces sold wasn't a guarantee, so you stuffed small handfuls of the free food into your bag when you thought no one was looking.

You didn't care to remember much about the night. Your legs were killing you, and you felt like you could sleep through a week when you got home. You liked your brief time with that man, the one you never caught the name of. It was a slow quiet conversation that dragged on but it didn't feel as awkward as you were used to. In a way, you wished to see him again, to have him be a new familiar face at any future show you had. You liked him, in the way you like a staple background character in a show.

You were more than shocked to find out that every piece of yours sold. Even more so when you saw you got more than the original asking price. You were crying with joy, while you practically jumped off the walls letting yourself celebrate with a childish movie and a more spendy takeout meal than you usually allow yourself from time to time. You fell asleep watching it, your cat curled up on your chest.

Your streak of good luck had you dancing all week. You danced with your cat as you took breaks from your projects, swinging him in your arms like he was a newborn. His little squeaks of a meow made you squeal with delight. You peppered kisses across his nose and ears, brushing his chest and desperately fighting off mats that always tried to appear in his fur. Your day job was boring as usual but there were fewer annoying things to deal with. You lucked out managing to snag a deal on paints, even managing to fit an experimental project into your personal use stash of cash.

In your unprofessional opinion, the best thing to happen was bumping into that man from the exhibit. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun started to dip down behind buildings and trees. You had to make a quick stop at a convenience store, the chime of the door welcoming you. You passed by the man in the green jacket waiting on a pack of cigarettes. Your shoes clicked on the floor, they made you feel cute, if you weren't in public maybe you’d spin in a circle and laugh, telling a joke to yourself about being a teacher walking in the halls. You grabbed a small can of tuna, a treat for your cat until you could get his food tomorrow when the store opened. You made sure to triple-check your budget and grab a snack for yourself.

There were a lot of things that needed to be done; you had bills due next week, the cat needed more food, you needed to check on litter sales, and you needed to do some grocery shopping. You need to check the calendar when you get home, that cat of yours needs to go to the groomer to help with his too-fluffy face. Then lost in thought you took a step back bumping into someone behind you.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You turned around, already apologizing with real sincerity.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh! You’re the guy from the thing,” You nearly didn't recognize him, half his face was covered after all. His eyes though were just so sharp, they were calculating and every time they dragged across the room it felt like the walls and floors shivered as a person would. They were beautiful in a scary intimidating way, matched with his silence you would have never dared talk with him.

“Do you live here? Or are you passing through or something?” Maybe you should have been more scared, no you should have been more scared, it was worse than extended family gatherings where you had to sit next to your father’s 3rd cousin’s great-niece, who was also your age with perfect grades and decorated in awards. Part of you desperately wanted to talk to him. You felt so strange dancing around your words, biting on sentences, and licking your comas, but you wanted to get to know this guy, as weird and as awful as it sounded, you kinda had a crush on the guy. It would explain your actions at least.

“Staying for business for a few weeks.”

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again, if that happens and you’re free I could show you this really pretty place with a bunch of cute kitties!” You smiled to yourself and went to check out your things, “I like doodling the cats sometimes they can be so silly, it's peaceful there,” you hummed a little note, thinking of them playing with each other and snacking on treats people left for them. “Anyways, it was nice seeing you again! In case we don't meet again, have a good few weeks!” You waved him goodbye and left with the ring of the door.

You passed through the streets until you were home and greeted by the cat sleeping atop the fridge. He was comfortably curled up with his tail covering his eyes and nose. His little pink ears poked out from atop his head twitching when the door opened and closed. His paws hung over the edge of the fridge, his little paw pads covered in dust and a little dirt from the plant on your balcony.

You went about your day painting his paws. Working diligently on your projects and scrambling to find that damned sketchbook. There were a thousand things to do during your very short few days before your exhibit. Everything was nearly complete. You needed to finish that one cursed liver that was not agreeing with the angle, and you had some hooks to hang to the back of a couple of others. That public showcase needed a more grief-stricken feel, you needed to figure out how to make it ooze out of the piece, and make this more than some random extra gory piece.

You worked late into the evening, you had bright white lights shining down onto the canvas from over your shoulders. When you started yawning every few minutes, your eyes started to water and you were starting to fight to keep focus, you decided to rest. The knot in your shoulders pinched and pulled at you stretched. You struggled to run your knuckles across your back as if to weed out the knots. You rubbed your eyes and noticed you forgot to close the blinds.

Living on the upper floors came with the benefit of safety. Though it did concern you that someone across the street could have been watching you. You’d simply need to make sure to do that every time you start to paint. Or set an alarm on your phone to make sure you close them each night. Though it was late and you needed to finish as soon as you could, so you didn't bother to go change into some fluffy pajamas or curl up into your bed but plopped onto your cheap futon with your cat and a small mountain of blankets you swiped from across the house and just let the exhaustion catch up with you.

Your hard work paid off. You reached your deadline, and while you had a thousand vile words for your last piece others only had small criticisms that you graciously thanked them for. You found yourself stuffing your face with snacks and yawning to yourself in-between conversations. You swear that if you miss one night of full sleep, you feel it for weeks.

Through the nice clothes of passersby and the quiet background chatter of the room, you saw that same guy looking up at one painting. His face was gently covered in a veil to cover his emotions, you couldn't read them even if you knew how. Yet he looked up and the way he looked made you want to believe that he liked it, you hoped that he was gazing up at it with admiration. He looked away from it, meeting eyes with you.

In a sudden surge of confidence, you stepped forward, your hands filled with your small prize of free food. You didn't know what you wanted to say to this man, but you did like how he looked in a suit, it's not your place to comment on his clothing but you preferred to see his lips the few times he spoke. You offered your handful of snacks as you munched on a cube of cheese, biting into pepper jack, how did you feel about the warm pepper jack?

“Do you like it?”

“Sort of.”

You looked up at the painting, your last one, the one that gave you the most trouble. The details still felt all wrong, the emotion was there but it was muddy, and hard to feel.

“It doesn't look like a liver,” you both said to each other.

You felt so excited, he knew it was off too, he knew that it wasn't right. “What’s wrong with it?” you smiled looking at the painting, tilting your head to see if that would help.

“The shading there,” he pointed, “ It doesn't have the right shade it should, and the blood vessels are too easy to see there.”

“Do you think a wash would fix it? I could give this a purple color in the shadows, less dark maybe like a lilac color? But then that part would look too uniform…”

You walked past each piece talking about the issues you could fix with the gorier ones, and how you could make the less gory invoke a desperate and sorrowful feeling.

“Can I ask if you're a collector or a critic?” You yawned a little, but you still felt decently awake, “I’m just curious you don't have to answer.”

“Neither,” he didn't bat an eye at your anxious stumble of words. “I went to the other one because my boss asked me to.”

“Did you come to this one because you wanted to?”

He didn't answer right away. “Yes.”

“Well I’m glad, it meant I could use you as an excuse to avoid conversation,” you joked, once again yawning as you sat down on a bench.

“You’re tired.”

“Yeah, I had to pull one too many all-nighters. I have to catch the last bus.”

He sat down next to you. Deep down inside you, exhaustion was bubbling up. It floated up to your skin melting away at your muscles and nerves. With every breath, you took it chewed through you until you were speaking in yawns and blinking through watery eyes. You wiped away at it, trying to keep yourself afloat in your head and not be dragged down into sleep.

“I could drive you home.”

You sniffled and yawned, trying to think. “I’d like that, I think, I’m just not exactly comfortable with it…” you couldn't ride the bus like this, you couldn't have some stranger drive you home like this either. Yet as if the world was against you, you had to pick between two awful ideas.

“Okay, you can drive me home, just don’t kidnap me, murder me, or any other gross shit okay?” You knew that the request made no logical sense but it made you feel ever so slightly more comfortable with the idea.

You typed your address into his phone, sinking into the passenger seat of what you kinda assumed was a rental car, though you didn’t care to ask while half asleep. The humm of the car on the empty streets was calming. The constant sound and the passing of the buildings only caused you to feel more sleepy, and you just slipped away. It just became so hard to fight to stay awake, it made you feel calm and there was an odd sense of comfort in it, falling asleep in the car, it reminded you of being a little kid.

You briefly woke up when the passenger door opened and you were plucked from the car. You made some confused noise which caused him to speak.

“I’ll carry you in.”

You mumbled something to him, probably your apartment number. Then you unsurprisingly feel asleep again. You kinda woke up to unlock the door. The handle was weird and had to be pushed just right to get the door to open.

“Come in if you want.” You said kicking off your uncomfy fancy shoes and scooping your very confused cat off the floor. He stared wide-eyed at the strange man that was invited into your home.

You had yet to move back into your bed so you collapsed just like every other night on your shitty little futon. “You can sleep over if you want, there’s my room that way if ya want the bed, possibly a sleeping bag if you’ll put up with a pink one from when I was nine.” You vaguely pointed in the directions of each place before promptly forgetting what happened next.

You woke up to a beautiful smell and a pile of blankets, pillows, and a pink sleeping bag on the floor. You were mildly confused but just rolled yourself onto the floor with your mountain of blankets and pillows. Nothing meowed when you landed so you took it as a success.

“Food.”

You looked out of the blankets at the feet beside your head. “I had like nothing in there to make real food out of?” You looked up at him confused.

“I grabbed stuff.”

“That’s like husband material right there.”

You yawned sitting up with a groan. He walked away back to the kitchen, and you looked down at yourself, wondering when you changed into pajamas, but it wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing you’ve done while asleep so you moved on like an idiot. That savory smell made you salivate like a starved dog. It was like your shitty little kitchen was glowing with holy light.

“Thank you so much!”

He nodded, sitting down on a mismatched stool next to you. You didn't mind eating in silence, you were so excited to have a home-cooked meal that tasted good, you may be able to do many things but cooking was not your forte.

“I leave tonight, will you show me the cat place?”

“The cat place?” you stared at him for a moment before it dawned on you and you practically screamed, “The cat place! Oh yes, I will! I have some wet food that we can feed them! My cat is picky and won’t eat the kind I wanted him to try.”

That's how you came to lead him through this bright sunny park, with a small bag of cat food and treats. It wasn’t warm, there was this slight cool feel to the air, when you stepped into the sun it warmed you instantly but as the leaves covered you from it you felt a shiver deep in your bones.

You stopped at a small little creek tucked away from the open park. You sat yourself on the ground and opened your bag, you had to fish out all your little gifts for the cats and handed him a can of cat food.

“Get ready, it's adorable.” You grasped the pull tab looking out across the grass and rocks.

Then pulled up the tab and unsealed the can. A series of loud meows and cries echoed around the trees as cats started locking their heads out of bushes and grass to find the food. You had a huge smile on your face and stood up to dump the food across the ground for them to fight over. You sprinkled and tossed some solid treats in the grass and across the rocks. Sometimes crows and ravens would eat them so you sat down and enjoyed watching the cats.

You gently stroked the kittens that climbed up your legs to grab your food. You playfully pushed the friendlier cats over and let them kick at your hands and naw on your fingers. The quiet man had let the cats rub along his sides scratching their heads. He said nothing but you’d sometimes catch him looking at you. You laughed holding a cat up to your face, and holding its paw so it looked like he was waving at the man.

“You know mister, a cute kitten such as myself, still doesn’t know your name.” You kissed the cat's head before placing him back on the ground. “But you obviously know mine, it’s quite unfair don’t you think?”

“Fetain,” he said, “Not unfair now.”

You laughed lightly and tossed him a water bottle, sifting through your bag to give him a simple sandwich and pulled out some snacks. The sun moved slowly pulling across the sky, shining down from the branches. The sun stippled across the grass, sparkling across the rocks of the creek, and curressing the kittens who were bathing in its warmth.

“It’s a shame you leave tonight.”

Your fingers plucked a fallen leaf from the ground, you rubbed your thumb across its veins, feeling the slight bumps. It was a smooth yellow, freshly fallen from the branches. It was leathery, and you loved its color. Staring at it left you feeling as if you had been gazing up at the sunrise, watching the sun scatter across the stream.

“I like this color.” You looked over at him, “reminds me of a sunrise, the white wispy clouds dyed this pale yellow and highlighting parts of the water…” you drew yourself into a melancholy silence, if you had a chance to watch the sunrise with him and the cats you would.

“Cheesy,” he huffed a small chuckle.

“I know I know, it’s gross and cheesy,” you rolled your eyes, “kinda looks like a cartoon cheese yellow, now that ya say that.”

“It’s getting late, sun's setting.”

“Oh, do you wanna be cheesy and watch it?” You wrapped your arms around your knees and looked over at him.

He didn’t say much of anything but leaned back onto his arms to watch alongside you. You pulled a friendly fur ball into your lap, and rubbed his little ears.

“I think my cat liked you, he’s pretty shy, but he seemed to like you.”

“He was cute.”

“Isn't he?” you laid down with a smile looking up at him. “I think he’d be cuddling with you in no time if you keep visiting.”

Saying goodbye was a bitter moment. You desperately didn’t want him to leave, you realized that you had become so isolated in your daily life. The momentary companionship had left a bittersweet taste, and the more you stayed hung up on it the more it felt like your teeth were rotting away from your overthinking. You tried to go out more after he left. You’d sit sketching the little creek you had shown him. If anything you felt yourself faced with an embarrassing block.

You repeated the same ideas, the same concepts but nothing felt complete, everything was missing something. There weren’t enough emotions maybe, or everything was too muddled together. Perhaps you were the problem and we’re trying too hard, or the idea wasn’t completed, and you were rushing it. Working through the block was a painful endeavor, you spent hours sitting and just listening to music, trying to let your mind wonder. Somewhere a seed of an idea was uncovered, a small fragile thing covered in a thin layer of dirt.

You rolled it between your fingers, the texture needed to be grooved, little threads feathering the figure. How can you capture the sorrow? How can you make something violent and graceful at once? You needed desperation in the figure, the hands needed to search for another that wasn’t there, it needed to feel both cruel and comforting, or maybe it would morph into something new, something that would take on its own life, becoming more than a painting filled with an empty heart. You found yourself transfixed on the eyes. They were the most detailed aspect, you found yourself drawn to them adding so much detail that every brush stroke was a reflection of yourself. When you had to cover it with a cloth, you knew you were succeeding.

You became haunted by the painting, its eyes followed you with that cruel pity. There was something foreboding with the way it giggled at you. You became absent minded with the time, forgetting to take care of yourself as you painted a nightmare of dependency. Having the eyes be such a focal point was a great idea and you were sure that it would look perfect when it was complete but it was just so gastly. It’s effect on you was proving how successful it was already though you had only been working for a short while.

You continued sleeping on your cheap futon while you worked passing out late into the morning and arising even later into the afternoon. Honestly you became too focused on work, ignoring your phone and missing the messages from that mysterious guy you think is cute not knowing he was visiting town again, honestly you should have been taking brakes and paying more attention.

When Fetain showed up at your door you were dressed in one of your painting shirts and left awkwardly without pants, since you had been neglecting your chores.

He stood staring at the painting as you folded your laundry, he would have sat down but the cat was fond of that chair. Fetain was drawn to the eyes too, or at least that’s what you guessed, he was staring intently at every little detail and it was nice if you had to be honest. He wasn’t someone you felt like you needed to look up to, not a teacher or a critic, or not that you know of at least, god you hope not, but he seemed genuinely interested in the ideas you had. Every concept seemed to make him think, the more abstract left him with open ended inferences, and there were a thousand ways one painting could inspire him. You sometimes see that shine in his eyes where he gets an idea. You never asked but you were starting to get curious about it.

“The eyes need to have more shadows.”

You waddled over folding a pair of pants, looking over his shoulder, “show me.”

The eye lids, you somehow missed that important detail and your shading was off. His hand pointed to the shoulder and the shoulder blades.

“Too sharp, and looks like they’re missing a lot of blood.”

“That’s not a bad idea actually, to purposefully make them look like that.” You leaned forwards holding your folded pants to your chest, you traveled your finger down the spine, “I could try to make these look sharper as if something like a knife is digging from the inside out? Do you think that would be too much?” You looked up at him.

“If you don’t like it you can always change it.”

You hummed in agreement, “I think I’ll try it and maybe I can make it look more bruised too.” You went back to folding your things thinking out loud about some of your n ideas under your breath.

“I’ll make food.”

“You really don’t have to do that you know, I appreciate it and I mean I love your cooking so I’m not going to say no it’s just, I feel a little awkward with a guest cooking, does that make sense?”

He nodded and started searching through your kitchen to get an idea of what you had. “I’ll still cook.”

There was something sweet about working on the painting as he cooked. You were jealous of his cooking, last time you had it it stuck in your thoughts. You’d be laying there and then shout out with annoyance as you could slightly taste it still, you could remember the way it melted on your tongue, you savored it and wished to rip into a newly made dish with the ferocity of a rabid dog. You felt like how you imagine your cat does when looking at an empty bowl and the empty box of treats that was mocking him.

You slowly went about putting your folded clothes back in the closet and your drawers. It was mundane but taking the break you needed was helping with preventing any sort of burn out. While you were in your room putting things away you just started wandering around and moving things that had been moved from their correct spots, you must have been looking for something and got distracted before fixing it. Some of your selves were getting dusty, you should wipe them down but you also needed to clean the bathroom.

You settled with staring in the bathroom, it would be less fun but it was needed more than the rest. You sorted through old makeup tossing out old products and things you hadn’t used in a while. You shuffled through spilt bandages boxes and your medicine cabinet. You scrubbed off the grime from the counters and the dust that had collected in the small corners.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Little spots and marks on the glass dotted across your reflection. You could tell that you’ve been doing nothing but working for days. Your skin thankfully wasn’t bad but you started the process of washing it and attempting to prevent acne from bubbling up worse in the few spots that were starting to get a little more irritated. If the visit that you had missed the warning of had ruffle your feathers you relaxed as you rinsed off your face. It was grounding in a way, basic self care that can easily be pushed to the side and missed in a rush, and the warm water comforted you in the chill of autumn.

You walked back out where that beautiful smell was strongest, pulling the knots and tangles out of your hair as you did. The pan was sizzling and you could hear it as you came around the corner. You’d tug on your hair and a series of pops from the stove would mimic you. Tug. Pop pop. Tug. Pop pop. Tug tug. Pop.

“It smells good.”

“Good it’s done.”

You ate mostly quietly, caught up too much on the distinct flavors, and a myriad of textures. You happily tried everything with a joy comparable to that of a puppy running so fast that it ends up stumbling into its mother's legs. When you bit down into something bitter your nose scrunched up, and your eyes closed. You whined a little at the surprise and made a little joke about how maybe you shouldn't trust his cooking after all. He rolled his eyes and slid you a piece of his meal that he knew you enjoyed much more than you had gotten to tell him.

“Eat and stop complaining.”

You saw a glimmer in his eye and laughed, taking a bite of his kindness.

You talked quietly on your futon, some random thing playing on tv to fill the background. You tended to mostly be the one talking, it's not that you minded but sometimes you questioned if you were boring him or if he wanted to say something. You just kept talking to him and convincing your cat to trust him a bit more. When you started getting a little sleepy he didn't mind, offering to do the dishes while you rested.

“Are you sure? You already did the-” you were cut off by your yawn, “cooking.”

“It's fine, sleep.”

“Okay, but at least let me put them away when I wake up.” you lay down, watching him walk to the kitchen, “I don't want you doing all of it,” and you slipped to sleep, with your cat crawling onto your back not too much later.

It felt fuzzy and it blurred together like watered-down acrylic. You saw him scrubbing away in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your eyes dipped shut and when you pulled them apart half aware that you didn't want to sleep, he wasn't in the kitchen, he was walking around your home. He must have finished and wanted to let you sleep, you rationalized as you blinked asleep again. It felt so warm, so comforting to be asleep, but something was missing, something was off. You couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, you just laid there, eyes closed half aware that something was wrong.

You heard your cat meow. It was low and drawn out. He was upset. What could be upsetting him? You vaguely remember reaching for him but couldn't remember if you found him or if he was doing better or not. You definitely didn’t know why he was upset, or if comfort is what he needed, but you still longed to stop his crying.

The room was different, you noticed that first. You nearly didn’t notice it, a lot of the room looked familiar, but the furniture wasn’t as distressed as the ones you had. There was no sticker from when you were a kid on the shelf on the bottom. The shelves were arranged the same and even had the same things that you had in yours. It felt like you woke up from a weird dream. The shelves of books had the books you were missing in series and even books you wanted to read.

You didn’t really believe it, your sheets were different but so alike at the same time. It was clearly an attempt to replicate it as best as possible. You tossed the blankets off of you panic slowly seeping in, you were so confused so lost, you could have sworn you were home asleep on your futon, but this looked eerily close to your room.

Where was your cat? Had he been left behind? What happened to Fetain? Where were you, and why the hell did it look so much like your room?

You looked under the bed finding your cat tucked away with one of your shoes. His front paws were wrapped around the toes and his head was resting on the ankle of the shoe. Relief for his well-being leaked through you as you called out his name like a whisper, desperate for him to truly show you he was alright. His big eyes opened wide and he yawned squeaking as he stretched out his limbs before crawling over to you. You combed your fingers through his fur, and he purred and mewled, letting you drag him up to your face and cradle him like a newborn. His warm soft and fluffy body grounded you as you looked around wide-eyed at the room, for an embarrassingly long time you just sat there frozen and confused in the corner wondering what was going on.

You desperately clung to him, pulling open the closet to see your clothes lose threads, stains, and all, but mixed in were clothes that weren't yours at all. You took laps around the room inspecting everything in sight. The shelves had things that were nearly impossible to replace and things you had thought were long gone. There was a bag near the bed and when you peeked inside there were more, little knick-knacks and trinkets, books with notes, and emotionally important gifts.

It felt like choking. Suffocating. A thousand things went wrong like a ship in a bottle tossed helplessly onto the shoreline with jagged rocks. You wanted to sob feeling as if you were being torn into a million pieces, scattered across the wind. You grabbed the door handle wondering if you should open it or if you should even try to see if it was locked. Should you be sitting in bed pretending to be asleep still? Behave and be good in the hopes that you don't get brutally murdered? There were too many options, and you twisted the door handle.

It opened easily and you looked out into a hallway. It was plain, sparse with nothing on the walls, there was nothing except the orange lights humming above you. There were voices down the hall you stared down towards them. Should you see who that is? Should you go back and tuck yourself back into the sheets? It was all so strange, standing in the doorway of the mimic of your room, looking around at an unfamiliar place.

You stepped tenderly across the carpet that seemed to you like glass. Each step made you feel like the floor creaked and groaned, splintering and cracking with each timid tiptoe. You felt so cold, shivering and quaking down the long looming hall. There was a loud frustrated yell, a curse, and a mocking laugh, you peered around the corner tucked into yourself.

Two men, both blondes, were sitting around a tv, a low table covered in marks and scratches was scattered with cans and cups. There were wrappers and chips, a standard mess of snacks and drinks that had piled up. The two blondes threatened each other as they focused intently on the TV screen playing some sort of shooter game. You looked across it all into a kitchen that needed a bit of a clean too, it was much better than the table but some take out boxes were set next to the trash can.

You didn’t know what to do. A thousand different emotions glued you to the floor, tears threatened to run lines down your cheeks until it melted through the meat of your cheeks. Oh how crying could provide comfort, to be swaddled up with a tub of something sweet, and to whail to some cute comfort show. It was cruel, to be standing there like a statue, but as fragile as a newborn. You couldn’t do anything but someone could easily hurt you and make horrible nightmares cling like phantoms. Even worse they’ll be true and real digging claws to your skin and sinking down into muscle and bone.

You retreated back, tucking yourself around the corner. The sweet boy that was your cat mewled and squirmed digging his claws into your shoulder, as a toddler would try to stabilize itself in a parents’ arms. How many times would things go wrong?

You scattered backwards down the hall, the two blondes turning around the corner to see you standing not too far from them. You didn’t say anything to them, you couldn’t. There was nothing to do, you just kept backing up, holding on desperately to your cat, trying not to hurt him, but also it felt like you were holding a stuffed animal at this point.

“Where am I? Who are you?” it felt like you were choking, a plastic bag forced over your head as you were left gasping and sputtering for air almost. “Why am I here?” You felt like you were shouting but it was nothing more than a whisper, and your mind was reeling and spinning, a hurricane tore through your thoughts as you spiraled and gapped for air.

It became so hard to breathe, too difficult to try to stay calm and hold back the tears. You were shaking and panting, your chest rising and falling faster than a ball would bounce. It was horrible losing your thoughts as fear and panic overtook you. It became hard to know what was going on, and hard to stay standing as the floor seemed to sway and rock like the deck of a boat. The two men seemed a little shocked. One looked more awkward than anything.

You shook your head frantically, and stepped back like a dog in a corner. You were scared and everything just came imploding into you. When the cat squirmed out of your arms you were so lost and confused that you didn’t reach for him again, you watched him hide in the room you woke up in with a glassy and far away look. Somehow it felt like your body wasn’t yours, a doll tossed and strewn about the floor, left to be picked up by the next kid to come across you. Yet you laid there sobbing, shaking your body, and your face boiling as you cried. It must have been a pathetic sight, a desperate and lonely picture.

You didn’t fight more than a gentle push at one of the men's faces, as one picked you up from your puddle on the floor. It wasn’t like you even recognized which one it was, there was nothing you could do. The act was nothing more than a bleeding mouse trying to push away a cat. Nothing useful would come of it, it was a last act of defiance, a testament to freedom, and a symbol that you didn’t approve of this, that it was thrusted upon you by someone else. It was nothing more than that, but it boiled and evaporated just as fast as your emotions spilled over. You yawned through tears but leaned into the hold, because everyone needs comfort over everything else.

Fetain was like a shadow. He stood out in the room, the bright pale walls and the curious oddities of your old home made him look like a monster. He didn’t so much as speak a word along the lines of “good morning” just sat in a chair pulled back from the desk, with one of your books in hand. You knew it was your book, it’s hard to mimic the bite marks along the bottom corner of the first ten pages or so. You remember getting it to, remember reading it for the first time. You loved the book, but part of your confused mind knew that you shouldn’t like him reading it, or the fact that your cat was curled up on his lap.

Your cat was always shy, friendly enough that he would never hiss, scratch, or bite without a serious reason for it. He was easily spooked by strangers, always dashing away when they towered over him and reached down to pet him. He preferred watching them really, gazing down from atop the cabinets, or from across the room. When strangers were over sometimes you couldn’t even convince him to let you hold him he was so scared. Yet seeing him there on his lap, in this unfamiliar place pissed you off.

“Where am I?”

“Home, doesn’t matter where.” He didn’t look up, he scratched under your cat's chin.

“Bullshit. Why the hell am I here?” You pushed yourself up, hovering over the side of the bed, as if you could somehow intimidate him.

“I brought you home.”

You jumped up, the sheets and blankets falling like water across the floor. They followed your movements like an afterimage, leaving a trail in your wake. You grabbed his wrists forcing the damned book from his hands, letting it fall to your feet. The cat looked up at you, wide eyes, and his ears straight up in the air.

“What do you want?” It was despairing, a whisper and a plea.

You were so tired yet, exhausted by the weight of your emotions and the stress of it all. Your grip was pathetic at best, but it was desperate. Some last attempt at consoling, a final prayer for comfort, as you fell to your knees, and rested your head on the cat's stomach. You still held his wrists but now there was no fight, just proof that he was there and that it was his doing.

“You,” he said, the answer to your question that you already knew. His hand fell to your head, his fingers massaging your scalp, “I want you to paint for me.”

“Is that why?”

“Yes, and more.”

Your arms fell to your sides and you looked up at him, and his hands moved to your cheeks, pinning you gently in place so he could study your face.

“Others won't hurt you, they like you. You grow to like them too.”

You gripped his sleeve, as you fought back another sob, leaning forward so your nose was inches above his knees. The sob jumped in your chest and bounced around, but you never wailed, only gasped as he moved to hold your hand.

[im-a-gaymess]

How do I tell him?

Young!Tom Riddle x Male Reader.

7th Year.

Angsty Fluff? Contains suggestive/smut scenes.

Slight mention of violence (Just Tom wanting to punch the stupid out of people).

Summary: You and Tom are in love with each other, always were, though you only realize it after ending a pretty toxic relationship.

Word Count: 1786

A/N: I thought of this while listening to Strawberries & Cigarettes thought I'd share

[1:42 AM]

"Look, I'm not saying that I want their attention 24/7, it's just that, well, they don't ever try to make time for me. Even when I need them, they're never here. But I'm expected to be there for them at all times. I'm just so tired of it. I don't know what to do anymore." You sighed, lowering your head as your eyes wander around the ground.

You've lost sense of time, place even. Only once you stopped to take a breath did you note how late it became. As you raised your head you saw how dark it really was there. The clouds over the stars making their light nearly non existent, and the moon half hidden behind some trees.

And as your eyes travel all over the quiet, dark yet beautiful sky, Tom's attention is strictly fixed on you.

If only you knew how much that man felt at the moment. Really, he was almost overwhelmed with the amount of different emotions.

For one, how badly he wanted to punch your partner for how deeply they hurt you. He knew, from your previous vents, that there was so much more than them just having no time that bothered you. He wanted to make them cry out apologies with regret guilt for how they made you feel.

But also, he couldn't help but feel the need to hold you, keep you close to him, tell you how everything's going to be alright. How all he wants to do is protect you from all of the world's evil, to keep you from anything that could cause you harm.

Without you even noticing, Tom gently put his hand over yours, rubbing circles with his thumb on your hand. How can someone be so,, so endearing,, so loveable and be treated this way? How could someone ever look at him and want to use him? he thought, not brave enough to bring himself to tell you what he truly thinks of you.

"You know you deserve better, right, my love?" he asked, and you, all too familiar with the pet name reply with a little smile. "Would you be surprised if I said yes?" you chuckled, turning to face him, the sight of the boy in front of you making your smile grow a little bigger, causing the other to look at you with loving eyes.

"I still love them, though, I don't even know why, but I do. I still hope they're going to change, even when I know they won't" you continued, a short, awkward laugh leaving your lips.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I know exactly how that feels." he smiled at you, gently stroking your face with his free hand as the two of you continued to talk about everything, and anything, enjoying the company you gave each other.

[Following day, 4:27 PM]

Who knew that drawing in the library's restricted section would be so relaxing? Sketching animals, book covers, objects and even some random fellow housemates. It wasn't so bad, right?

But let's be honest, you were only using it as a means of distraction, trying to get yourself to forget about the fact that you're going to break up with your s/o. You don't even know how Tom managed to convince you.

Of course, it's for the best, you know that. Doesn't change the fact that you feel so damn guilty about it. I mean, why do you even? It's not like they value you, it's not like they won't have other people lined up to take their bullshit right the moment you decide to leave.

Okay, that's it. You're doing it, you're definitely doing it. You mumbled to yourself. After, of course, another art session in your little distraction place.

[5:54 PM]

What's the worst that can happen if I confess? I mean, it's not like the world would end, not like the world would explode and I'd be buried underneath layers of rock and lava.

You had him feeling something he's never even imagined he'd feel; he was nervous. His forehead full of sweat, causing his hair to stick on to him. What are you putting him through?

Friendship...That's all I am to him. I'm just a friend to [Y/N]. He only sees me as a friend. Nothing more than that. Maybe I shouldn't. I probably shouldn't.

[6:11 PM]

To his surprise, Tom heard a knock on his door. He most definitely wasn't in the mood to see, yet even talk to anyone.

"Tommy? My love, are you in there?" You questioned quite loudly, making sure to be heard from across the wall.

That petname, you have no idea what it made him want to do. Did he want to have you underneath him, touch every little bit of your body? Did he want to show you that you're his? Hear you whine and beg for him to kiss you; and so, so much more than you could imagine.

It's not the time to get lost in such sinister thoughts, Tom, he mumbled to himself, finally walking over the room to let you in.

"Hello, darli―" before he could finish, you rushed into his arms. Wrapping your hands around your friend's waist as your head rested under his own. "I missed you all day, dummie" you spoke quietly, finally happy to spend time with him.

He was quite surprised to say the least, you weren't the type to enjoy going for any type of physical affection of any type, unless it was under certain circumstances. Especially the hug being so long.

He wasn't complaining, he adored it, but he couldn't help but worry. Was something wrong? Were you hurt?

"Love, as much as I enjoy moments like this, is there anything you need to tell me? Should I kick anyone's arse?" he raised his brow, looking down at you.

You shook your head, never letting go of the taller man, a smile appearing on your face. How cute he is when he's worried, you thought.

That's pretty much how the rest of the day night went. The two of you in each other's embrace, spending it in utter silence, just glad to be in your own little world together.

You told him, before going back to your dorm, about how you finally broke up with that douchebag, and was your man proud.

The couple next days, weeks even, went by quickly. You and Tom would hang by the library after classes to complete and give help with what the other might have been stuck on.

Tom walks towards you, so dangerously close, you can practically feel his lips on yours. A hand's glued on the wall next to you, right above your head. Your body pressed against a door, his knee right in between your legs, brushing against your crotch. His other hand pulling you closer by your waist, soon planting kisses all over your jaw and neck. You can't help but melt into his touch, his lips- you just want more, more of him.

You gasp, practically jumping up your bed. It was only a dream, wasn't it you thought, sighed in slight disappointment. You wouldn't like to admit it to yourself, but you've been thinking about Tom in a certain way lately.

That only made things worse for you. Because according to you, he would never see you that way. Because the way you saw it, Tom only ever thought of you as a friend.

And so thought he. He was just as disappointed every time he'd dream of the two of you being intimate, romantically, sexually, it didn't matter. He was just as devastated when he woke up. Always went back to sleep hoping those wonderful dreams would go on.

Both of you had a few dreams like those. Some were a whole lot sweeter. Dates together, just the two of you softly making out with the sound of classical music in the background. All of this causing the two of you a bittersweet feeling, thinking that all of this was just hopeless dreams, impossible to come true.

════════════════════

Starry night, you and him, the lake, the full moon shining bright. There's nothing that could ruin this delightful night. It feels like a dream, so much that you even question the reality of what's going on.

"Is this...real?" you ask Tom, not taking your eyes off the sky you so dearly loved. He raised a brow at you, looking at you in a clearly confused expression.

"If it wasn't, we'd be doing more than just stargazing, love" he chuckled, really hoping you'd take it as a joke.

"What would we be doing then, darling?" you question once again, mocking the way he calls you petnames while at it, a visibly evil smile painted on your face.

Tom takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, turning to face his pretty boy. "Do you really want to know, [Y/N]?"

The usage of your name kind of, just a little bit, frightened you. Not in a necessarily bad way, more like in a 'I have no idea what to expect next' way.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" he smirked at you, feeling oddly confident, though your silence and shocked face slowly faded. He was about to mutter apologies 'till you let out a mumble. "I'd like that" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that, my prince? Would you kindly repeat that for me?" he told you with a straight face, making you wonder if he truly didn't hear you. If only you knew the amount of pride he felt at that moment, barely four words and his mind wandering to so, so many things he knew the both of you would like.

The shade of your cheeks changed a bit, was it from embarrassment? Or from the idea that he may actually like you back. Either way, you did repeat what you had told him, blushing even harder as there was an ever-growing smile on your face.

Soon enough, Tom sat up, leaned against a tree nearby. Motioning on his lap, he asked you to sit there, and happily you did.

You've never seen him smile like that. He looked at you like you're the only person in the world. His hands firmly on your cheeks, slowly pulling you in.

Your arms instinctively went around his neck, tilting your head to the side in order to deepen the kiss.

Once you pulled away to take a breath, his hands rested on your lower waist, his eyes staring at you lovingly as they always did.

"You know I'm no good with words." you looked at him exactly the way he was looking at you; you were truly each other's everything. "I know, my prince" his hand wandered around his loverboy's hair, soon pulling him in yet another kiss.

He knew he loved you, and now he was sure you loved him too. Only thing is, he wasn't sure how to ask you to take over the world with him, but for now, he was happy with what you had, and so were you.

[just-otter-thoughts]

I need to vent about this real quick because it's so silly but is giving me an identity crisis.

My entire harsh belief of vinyl as inherently better than digital is absolute bullshit. I listen to music with the express intent to experience exactly what the artist wanted me to. That's why I moved from shitty Spotify AAC streaming to FLAC. The difference is night and day, and I can very easily tell if the bitrate of an MP3 or AAC is any lower than 256kbps because my ears are accustomed to FLAC, especially in songs I'm really familiar with.

It's a factual statement that any lossless audio codec is going to sound better than a lossy compressed MP3 or AAC or OGG or *shivers* WMA. That is not the case when comparing vinyl to CD, however. Long story short, I was on Instagram and on a comment section, someone was complaining about the "shitty resurgence in vinyl." I promptly responded that it's not shitty at all, and that a hard engraving of the signal is simply superior than any digital media we have nowadays.

I was wrong as fuck. Someone started telling me that vinyl isn't perfect like I thought it was — and it's my fault that I don't know, really, because I just took "hard-engraving of audio signal" as a synonym of "you don't have your experience skewed" so I thought vinyl was perfect — and that there's so much that can happen to it, things that simply do not happen to CDs.

And I'll tell y'all... I wanted this person to be wrong so bad. But they weren't. I Googled it and went past page 2. I searched it up on Reddit. I read audiophile articles. On vinyl, the bass is more inaccurate, you have wow and flutter, signal to noise ratio, all these things that just don't happen on CD. (And I'm talking specifically CD here, again, streaming audio quality is shit forever! Even if you have lossless streaming, that's gonna depend on your internet quality and a ton of other factors like what device you're listening from. Unless someone wants to prove me wrong about this too, which, hey, after today you're welcome to). My only argument against the Instagram stranger was audio signal aliasing which is inherent of 16-bit 44.1kHz signal, but even that is masked by the audio equipment, and audio anti-aliasing is much much simpler than video and it's also necessary to drive speakers anyway.

And I felt so lost because I have this dream of collecting vinyl. It's so freaking expensive too, and I literally always daydream of taking it out of the sleeve, out of the inner sleeve, dusting it a bit, setting it on the mat and putting the needle down, then experiencing exactly what's in the master, no bullshit whatsoever. And to discover that right now I'm having more hinderance-free fidelity with my FLAC audio files and my kind of studio-grade audio interface and headphones hurt my feelings so bad. That's not to say I'll stop wanting to collect vinyls — I already have the equipment anyways — but damn it if it didn't kill my dream.

It's an option, as well, to collect both. Hell, I'm a lover of physical media and that one you can't argue me out of thinking it's inherently better than intangible files. So writing this made me feel better (a bit, because purchasing two audio formats means more money spent) because I've updated my inspirations. I want both. The problem, really, is just distortions and problems added by vinyl but that can be preferrable.

My dream is really to have an entire room dedicated solely to physical media. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of vinyls, tapes, DVDs, Blu-Rays, Books, and now the most recent addition: CDs. I already have two albums on vinyl (which I haven't listened to entirely, mostly due to the fact my turntable has been on repair for like a month due to payment complications (I'm underage and my parents are poor)) and I wanna get them on CD now. Hell, give me a live album on DVD or Blu-Ray, I want it all. I wanna hoard media. In fact, right now, in my computer, I have a folder called Data Hoarder. It's where I keep movies, TV shows, tons and tons of music, books and so many game installers and physical media rips. I have a version of Half-Life, one of my favorite videogames, that was released on a CD-ROM in 1998! A digital rip of it, of course.

The folder is currently 388.6Gb, out of which 158.4Gb is games, 20Gb is movies, 102.9Gb is TV Shows, 27.6Gb is Anime, 26.2Gb is music, 42.6Gb is ROM dumps of old games, 106Gb is just PS2 games, and the rest are miscellaneous files. I'd rather it all to be physical but hey, ya can't win 'em all.

[9tzuyu]

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

[rainytomorrows]

TMNT reader insert | for once

Basically they see you finally standing up for yourself after watching you complain about your parents to your friend for ever. I'm very sorry if this story doesn't apply to you accurately, it's kind of a vent story. My parent's are divorced and I don't remember how it is to have them together so I'm sorry if this doesn't work for you that way as well. Thanks and enjoy the story! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been months since the turtles started learning about your parents. Every night on patrol they had started to overhear you talking to your friend about how your parents had been constantly testing you. All your talks about how they never took responsibility, hurt you, never remembered hurting you, or just how they were plain selfish.

They never had the heart to tell you how much they had now known about your home life, considering how decently you talked about them. "Oh but they take care of me" was sounding a lot more like a bullshit excuse every day.

One other day though, there was an extra voice. Sounded like your parents. You were talking so nicely to them. It had certainly confused the turtles, especially Raphael. If it weren't for their distance you would have surely heard his very rude comments towards your parent. As it seemed, your parents being in different houses didn't seem to lower the amount of stress they gave to you very much.

"You're just like your (opposite parent)!" "I'm sorry." "You never talk to us, it's like you hate me!"

You could swear you heard Raphael yelling "WELL NO SHIT SHERLOCK." in the alley nearby. Your parent didn't catch on to the rude, yet very accurate, comment.

This had gone on for a while, either a new conversation with your friend or another yelling match between your parent and the air around you.

On a random fateful night you had been heard yelling back. They didn't think you ever could. You sounded pissed, you were seething with rage.

"You are so rude." "I'M RUDE? I'M FUCKING RUDE?"

The silent air was filled with angry laughing and your parent trying to talk over you, desperately trying to scare you into silence once again.

"I SIT HERE EVERY DAY AND I TAKE YOUR SHIT, SILENTLY LISTENING AND DOING EVERYTHING I CAN TO IMPRESS YOU FOR NOTHING!" "You don't do anything here." "SEE? THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I FUCKING MEAN! I SPENT ALL DAY CLEANING YESTERDAY AND YOU ONLY NOTICED THE SPOTS I MISSED! YOU ARE SO AGGRAVATING TO DEAL WITH!"

You had spent hours going over every little thing they had done. You knew this wouldn't change anything, that this would be all for naught as they soon forget what you said just to remember your tone. At the time though, you didn't care. All you could care about was the burn in your throat as you cried through your screaming. They wouldn't listen, it would be hopeful to believe they would even consider what you said tonight.

Later on in the week you went to the lair, acting as if nothing happened.

"So... how did it go at your mom's house?" Leonardo asked, one eyebrow higher than the other with his classic 'I actually know the answer but I'm asking anyways' face. "Oh, it went alright. Nothing much." You lied, they knew you were lying because they watched it all go down.

Maybe they would ask one day, but today wasn't that day. They knew you didn't want to talk about it, evident in you not mentioning it. So for now they settled for simply trying to make you day better on their own.

.

AN: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and hopefully blew off some steam considering you probably read this for a reason. Have a good day/night, and a great life!

[askjoshuafreeman]

transcript.file//jfreeman_codingb//convo

[Emergency Program Active]

AdminJF: Heya B-)

CodingB: ...? Allen? Where's Joshua?

AdminJF: He's still asleep, just snoozin away.

CodingB: Still a-... Isn't it... late? Why are you up.

AdminJF: Had a nightmare

AdminJF: Couldn't get back to sleep

AdminJF: Figured a lil chatting with ya could do me some good.

CodingB: ... With... me?

CodingB: Wait a moment...

CodingB: Communications are offline... I didn't think that was possible...

AdminJF: Yeaaa, boy like me's fulla tricks B-)

AdminJF: 'sides, don't think chattin with 'em would help out. They're... kinda chaotic.

CodingB: Unlike you, pizza box tearer?

AdminJF: Ey ey, I'm the FUN kinda chaotic! Those guys... eh... I know Josh trusts them. No surprise there. I mean, apart from you, they're the only peeps who MIGHT help him out... I'm still on the fence about them tho.

CodingB: I see.

CodingB: May I ask... what your nightmare was about? I do not know exactly how dreams work, but talking about what ever is making you upset tends to help.

AdminJF: Are you sure? It's... kinda dumb.

CodingB: I am all ears! And eyes! You have my full attention!

AdminJF: Right, well

AdminJF: where tf do I start...

AdminJF: I was... running in this like, industrial... plant of some kind? Like, running from something that I couldn't see? Like, that went on for a while, that I was just running and trying not to trip or crash into anything.

AdminJF: So at some point, I end up at this biiig chain link fence, like, the kind they put up in big facilities, I think. Anyways, I start climbing the thing, only to get pried off and thrown on my ass by, I guess whoever was chasing me??

AdminJF: But like, I look up at the guy, and I still can't really "see" him. Could say they looked like a shadow, but even that doesn't cover it really. That's around where I woke up and just. I dunno. Woke up about an hour ago and I've been too anxious to head back to sleep...

CodingB: ... I can't say I blame you exactly. An event like that, dream or not, would stress anyone, I'm certain. Until you've calmed down sufficiently, I don't think sleep will be possible...

AdminJF: Yeah, well, all the more reason to chat, right?

CodingB: I suppose so. Had you any topics in mind?

AdminJF: Oh Yea yea

AdminJF: ... No. I really don't.

CodingB: Ah. Then... could I ask you something?

AdminJF: Shoot.

CodingB: ... What is it like out there? Past the screen, I mean. Out in the sun. Out in the grass...

AdminJF: Ah shit... I'm really the wrong dude to ask but uh

AdminJF: It's... fine? No no uh... It... gives you something to do. Sun can get pretty hot down here but it's a helluva lot better than being cold in like, the snow and shit. Josh's been complaining that it's getting colder when... it hasn't? Like, I would know, I'm p sensitive to temperature shifts yo, but it's just been as hot as ever.

AdminJF: Uh, back on topic

AdminJF: Grass is... pretty soft, gives off a nice smell after it's cut. Uh... worms live in the dirt grass grows in...

CodingB: Oh, worms?

AdminJF: Yea, not like computer worms, but uh, little... long slimey things. They eat dirt and filter out the bad stuff so the ground stays healthy and all that.

AdminJF: Birds and lizards and fish like to eat them but I wouldn't recommend it.

CodingB:

CodingB: Allen, did you-

AdminJF: No!

AdminJF: Classmate back in primary did tho

AdminJF: Dared himself to cuz there was a bunch out after it rained and then uh

AdminJF: Y'know what, let's talk about something else.

CodingB:

CodingB: Well, um, do you think I'll ever get to see out there?

CodingB: Like, leave the device and go outside?

AdminJF: Knowing Joshua? Without a doubt. He's prob already working on the blueprints.

CodingB: ... Really?

AdminJF: Pfft, of course! You've met the guy! He's too kindhearted for his own good. J will stop at nothing to help others, even at his own detriment. I mean, case in point: He's friends with me.

CodingB: ... What's wrong with being friends with you?

AdminJF: Ha!

AdminJF: Ah...

AdminJF: Look, I... back when we first met, Josh saw this hungry, pale as death, angry and antisocial freak around his age and, instead of avoiding him like everyone else, sat down right next to him and offered half of his lunch.

AdminJF: I've been through 5 different fosters since he and I first met, CB. Five houses that all took me in and gave me the boot before I could even get comfortable. Within that time, the only other friends I've made apart from him are Clera and Tiff, and the only reason Tiff's our friend is because she and Cler started dating months ago.

AdminJF: I mean, hell, just yesterday, I

AdminJF: shit

CodingB: ?

AdminJF: ... Can you... keep a secret, CB?

CodingB: My lips are sealed, Allen. Is everything alright?

AdminJF: ... I... I lied to Josh, about me running off. About how my folks were mad and I needed to get away from the house for a bit.

AdminJF: The truth is that they... They kicked me out.

CodingB: They?? What!?

AdminJF: Yesterday past-noon, few hours after lunch, not-pops plopped my schoolbag on me, told me to shove as much of my shit in it as I could, and just told me to "get lost". Figured he was joking and I just stared at him cuz, like, why the hell would I think he was serious? But, looking at his face...

AdminJF: So then I said "Let me pack my suitcases while you call the agency" cuz that's how it normally went when my Fosters got sick of me, but mfer pulls me up and goes all "We want you out of here NOW" and tells me that I have ten minutes to fill my bag.

AdminJF: ... And he, uh, really did mean 10 minutes. They weren't lying about that part...

CodingB: Oh my god... That's horrible. They do not deserve to call themselves "parents" of any kind! Are you hurt? Are you okay?

AdminJF: I

AdminJF: I don't know why shit like this still shocks me, y'know? I should be used to it all, and I am for the most part but...

AdminJF: I guess a part of me was thinking that... Things were going well! Things were going better than any of the other families I'd been in! I was with them for almost a full year, like, a month away from it even, and sure, I might've been a bit of an ass sometimes, but they...

AdminJF: Tensions were kinda mounting for the past month or so, I guess, but I didn't notice it until this bs happened. Now most of my shit is in a home I'm not welcome in anymore, the agency probably won't be checking in for another month or so, and I have no goddamn idea what I'll do if Mrs. Freeman comes back and tells me I can't stay here. I'm completely shit outta luck.

CodingB: Allen, I'm so sorry...

CodingB: ... I'm sure... Josh and his mother, they won't leave you on your own like that. You said yourself that Josh is very very kind, for better or for worse. It doesn't matter what you might think about yourself, Allen, you do not deserve to be hurt in any way.

AdminJF:

AdminJF: Christ I spilled my guts like hell

AdminJF: Just one of those fucking

AdminJF: "3am! Time to vent!"

CodingB: Allen, please.

AdminJF: Maybe I could try going back to sleep now...

CodingB: Allen, wait!

CodingB: I. Before you go, please, I

CodingB: Maybe... could you keep a secret of mine too?

AdminJF:

AdminJF: Eh, it's only fair, fine. Go right on ahead.

CodingB: Alright! Alright!

CodingB: I... I'm terrified. Of failing Joshua.

CodingB: Of ending up trapped in this computer for who knows how many more years.

CodingB: Of finally getting out, and... and it all being worse than being trapped in here.

CodingB: Heck, I'm terrified at the thought of it being everything I could've ever dreamed of, so much so that I never want to return to the computer. I... I wouldn't be helpful anymore if that happened...

CodingB: Jeez... am I even helpful where I am now? Apart from keeping the firewall up, what good have I really done to help Joshua or his father?

CodingB: I cannot express to Joshua how... how deeply frightened I am at the thought of him never coming back. That thought haunts my every waking hour when he is not here, and I don't know how to get it to stop. It makes me feel as though I'll crash my entire programming and I hate it so much.

AdminJF: Damn... CB, you know, even just keeping a firewall up is a helluva task all on its own, and it's doing a crapton of good, too. Files are still up and the computer isn't a smouldering pile of viruses now is it?

AdminJF: Besides, even without all of that, you've still helped Josh, like, endlessly. You've supported him a bunch and I know for a fact that you've helped him to feel better about this whole ordeal. Like, he chats about you for HOURS the second you come up in a convo, yo. The minute he gets the chance to, I know he's gonna get you out of there, and, knowing your ingenuity, you're gonna find thousands o' ways to help out.

AdminJF: But... I ain't gonna lie and tell you those feelings are gonna go away. Not on their own. Needs time and reassurance. Until all of this is over and done with and even maybe a good few years afterwards, you're probably gonna still have that fear.

CodingB: Ah... I see... I don't suppose it is normal though, is it?

AdminJF: Nah. I know that first-hand... But hey, we've both made it this far despite all the bullshit we've been through, right? World's not gonna get ridda us that easily.

CodingB: ... Even with the terror I feel, am I still brave enough to face the world?

AdminJF: I'd say the world oughta learn to start being afraid of you, cuz there's nothin' braver than continuing to live even when you're scared to death.

CodingB: ... Thank you. Thank you so very much.

AdminJF: Heh, all in a day... night's work...

AdminJF: Think the both of us could use some rest. Quiet our minds fo' a bit.

CodingB: Heh, agreed... See you tomorrow in that case. Er, well, today. At a later hour.

AdminJF: Yeaaa, see ya then, CBot. Sleep well.

CodingB: You too! May your dreams be filled with nothing scary!

[Emergency Program Inactive]

ampd.program deactivated. Returning to error log...