#also i’m so used to sleeping with my dog right next to me i hate not having him with me

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

cw - yandere behavior, choso doing perverted stuff, bondage, problematic behaviors, smut, mdni, not proofread

imagining you and sick pervert!choso being roommates in an apartment together.

sick pervert!choso doesn’t like when you leave the apartment. he has some form of separation anxiety when it comes to you, but actually, he just loathes the idea that other people are getting to see you when he can’t.

sick pervert!choso who sets a curfew for you to help “ease his worries”. you agree because you like the fact that someone is watching out for you.

sick pervert!choso who ties you up to his bed when you break curfew one night. he doesn’t even touch you inappropriately. he just keeps you right where you belong: in his room.

sick pervert!choso who coos sweet condescending words to you while you’re tied up in his bed. “you know why i had to tie you up, don’t you?” you swallow thickly and nod your head. your eyes are glassed over from tears and the alcohol you had consumed earlier in the night.

sick pervert!choso who assures you that he forgives you for staying out past curfew. “it’s okay, baby. don’t cry. i just needed you to stay here with me for a little while, okay?”

sick pervert!choso who keeps you tied up until the next morning. he only unties you to lead you to the bathroom. he cares for you so tenderly as you shower and brush your teeth, but it’s right back to being tied down to the bed after your little break.

sick pervert!choso who admires you while you sleep. he loves how soft and vulnerable you look. it makes his dick twitch in his boxers, and he doesn’t understand why. he just knows he has to take his own bathroom break now.

sick pervert!choso who finally lets you go after a full day of being tied up, but he gives you big puppy dog eyes the moment you try to go to your own room, so of course, you sit with him and let him kiss the rope burns on your wrists.

sick pervert!choso who has a love/hate relationship with your job. he hates the fact that he has to share you with your job, and he hates that other men get to look at you while you work. what if they start getting the idea that they actually have a chance with you? then, choso will have to kick their teeth in :(

sick pervert!choso who also loves the time you’re gone sometimes because that’s when he gets to go shopping in your room! he breaks in, and he only steals a few things… like your used panties.

sick pervert!choso who will spray your perfume against his pillows while your gone. he will have a pillow with your perfume shoved against his nose while he chokes his throbbing cock with your panties.

sick pervert!choso who makes it a mission to fuck all of your used panties, leaving behind globs of cum in the crotch portion as he cries out your name however loud he wants to because you’re at your stupid job.

sick pervert!choso who noticed you’re taking far too long at work one evening. he’s blown up your phone with texts, and he finally checks the apple tag on your car that he accidentally left behind between the seats. you’re at a bar… without notifying him first.

sick pervert!choso who paces around the apartment all night, debating on just showing up at the bar, but he knows you’ll be upset with him for stalking you. his heart leaps into his throat as he hears the door open up.

sick pervert!choso has your back pressed against the door in record time. his nose is buried in your neck and shoulder as he’s trying to smell for anyone else’s scent on you. “where were you, baby? i was worried…”

“my boss brought us all out for drinks since we hit a big deadline, chocho. i’m sorry. my phone died.” you say as you rub his back, trying to soothe him from how tore up he was.

sick pervert!choso who leads you up to his room anyways to tie you up. you should’ve known better than to keep him worried and waiting like this! now he’s all pent up with too much possessive energy… he needs to see you bound to his bed to ease his anxiety.

sick pervert!choso forgot to hide the evidence of his activities all day. a few pairs of your panties are scattered around the floor, and he immediately tries to do damage control, but it’s too late. you already saw them.

“chocho, is this why my panties always go missing?” you ask as you pick up your favorite white cotton pair. you hold up the pair for him to stare at it with guilt in his eyes.

“i try to always return them!” he says with a small pout. “they smell like you. it helps me…”

sick pervert!choso who’s terrified that you’re going to give him a look of disgust. he knows that you’re going to hate him forever for being so sick and demented. he doesn’t want to have to, but he will drug you to keep you here with him. he loves that you stay willingly, but he’ll do whatever he has to do to keep you by his side.

“you do this while i’m at work?” you ask slowly. choso can’t see an ounce of disgust in your face.. only curiosity and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

after gathering his confidence, he finally nods his head, “and sometimes while you’re asleep…”

sick pervert!choso who’s awe struck when he watches you slide your panties out from underneath that sinful pencil skirt you wear to work. he’s nearly drooling out of his mouth as he looks at the pink lacy fabric.

“you want them?” you coax, and he’s quick to nod. the thought of being able to feel and smell them while they’re still fresh and warm… he’s about to cum in his pants from the thought.

“i’ll give them to you if you agree not to tie me up tonight,” you bargain with a knowing smile. “i also want to watch,”

holy shit. sick pervert!choso’s heart is hammering through his chest. this is like a fantasy come true. he reaches out and takes the panties from you, and he’s quick to hold them over his nose.

he groans and palms his throbbing dick through his pants as your scent fills his nose. he takes another deep breath, committing the scent of your pussy to his memory. he’s never experienced anything this divine in his life.

you sit on his computer chair as you watch your roommate fall apart over a simple pair of your panties.

you cross your legs together, watching as choso’s eyes are resting on you. he pulls out his massive cock, and be strangles the lacy pink fabric over it. he then slowly wraps his hand around the pace, and he fucks himself into your panties.

it’s truly a sight for sore eyes. choso’s leaned against his bed, whining and whimpering pathetically as he claims your panties again and again. he wishes he could shove the pillow over his nose, but then, that would block his perfect view of you.

sick pervert!choso would’ve never expected for his sweet roommate to react the way you do to the sight of him fisting his cock with your panties.

“fuck,” he growls, and he pumps his dick faster. the fabric is becoming slick with his own pre-cum. “you want me to mark your panties like this, baby?” he asks, managing to dirty talk you without stuttering or whimpering.

“yes,” you barely whisper. you’re so caught up in the sight of him — you almost forgot to reply to him.

his hips start to raise with each pump, and he feels himself getting close. he grips his cock tighter, imagining it was you gripping him like a vice while he fucks your tight pussy until you forget your own name.

a moment later, he groans as he quickly aims his cock, and he cums all over the crotch of your panties. rope after rope of his cum cover the pink fabric until it’s a sticky mess.

he pants as he looks over at you, and his heart is elated by the fact that you look just as desperate as he feels.

sick pervert!choso knows he could he making a mistake, but he takes a leap of faith based off your facial expression. “put them on,” he roughly demands, holding out your freshly ruined panties to you.

your eyes widen, and you look up at him with a little bit of uncertainty. however, you know you two are on a path of depravity now that you watched him claim your panties. you slowly take the panties from him, and you carefully slide them up your legs.

a moan escapes your lips as you feel his warm arousal press against you. it’s sticky and wet. it’s slightly uncomfortable, yet you’ve never been more turned on in your life. it was like a raw act of deprivation as you wore your panties that he had soiled.

“you like that, baby?” he asks, and he can’t help the small tremble in his voice. he desperately wants you to like it as much as he likes it. he’s enamored by the sight of your thighs clenching together. he might just make you wear the panties for the rest of the night.

you nod shyly with a small hum.

sick pervert!choso who never knew his roommate was a secret deviant freak until he watched you sit in panties filled with his cum all night long.

sick pervert!choso who falls even more in love with you after feeling so raw and close to you, and he has no idea that you have plans to ask him to use your panties while you’re wearing them next time <3

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Mental Healing with the Race

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Hey Guys, I just wanted to say I am still super sorry with every chapter that takes longer than I used to be to get them out. I asm currently in the middle of the last 2 weeks of college, so lots of studying and prep for our huge Final Projects or Tests. On top of that my FSAE team and I are prepping to leave for the Big Competition three weeks from now. However, I do not want any of my chapters to lack in the love and work that I put in to writing them. So I will do my best to try and get them out more regularly, but I will not post anything early or with any less love than the last one. So should they continue to take longer please remember this. No one has said anything about this but I still want to make sure that everyone knows I am not done with this story, just a little busy right now. With that said please enjoy...

The gym lights flicker on just before sunrise, humming low above my head like they’re still waking up, too. My hoodie is heavy with sleep and my shoulder twinges the second I shrug it off, revealing the newer, thinner brace beneath. It’s progress — less restrictive, easier to hide under my clothes — but it also means I’m out of excuses. The world thinks I’m still resting. But rest never made me stronger.

I roll out my mat in the same corner of the performance room as always. Familiar. Quiet. Grounded. Axel lays just a few feet away, head on his paws, eyes tracking my every move like he knows this day is going to be rough.

Because it is.

Today is cardio and strength. And no cast means full-arm weight again. It’s the first real milestone — a make-or-break kind of day.

I sit on the mat for a moment, my back pressed against the cool wall. My fingers find the scar on my forearm, tracing it absentmindedly. A reminder.

The crash didn’t defeat me.

"Alright, warrior,” Diego calls, stepping into the room and clapping his hands once. He’s grinning, but there’s a crease between his brows — the one that always shows up when he’s worried about me. “Scale of 1 to 10. Pain?”

I crack a tired smirk. “About a 4. Maybe a 5 when I raise my arm too fast.”

He raises a brow. “And how much of that are you downplaying to look cool in front of us?” Slightly nodding towards Axel.

I glance over at my dog, who immediately perks up like he knows he’s being talked about. “A solid 60 percent.”

Diego laughs, but he kneels down next to me, softer now. “Y/N, you’ve made insane progress. But we’re still building up. You don’t have to prove anything today.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, even though it’s a lie. “I’m just trying to… feel strong again.”

He doesn’t challenge me. Just gives a nod and offers his hand to help me up. “Okay. Let’s do this. But the moment I see that shoulder falter or your breath get shaky, we’re pausing. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The warm-up is fine. Easy even. Jogging laps around the indoor track with Axel trailing behind me like a shadow. My lungs are steadier than they’ve been in weeks. I feel… almost like myself.

Then we shift to shoulder presses.

“Let’s start light,” Diego says, passing me the small dumbbells — the baby ones, I tease in my head. I hate how small they feel in my hands.

“Come on,” I mutter to myself, planting my feet. “You’ve done this a thousand times before. Hell, you used to double this weight for warm-ups.”

“That was before your bones tried to throw a party and forgot to invite safety,” Nico pipes in from the corner where he’s leaning against a table, flipping through my training notes. “Let’s not reenact the crash scene here, yeah?”

I shoot him a look but secretly, I’m glad he’s here. He grounds me. Keeps me from letting the fire inside burn too hot, too fast.

I managed the first set. My form is shaky on the second. By the third, my shoulder screams. My breath catches.

Diego notices before I say anything. “Stop. Drop ‘em. Right now.”

I obey, lips pressed tight. My pride stings more than my shoulder.

“Sit,” he says, nodding to the bench. “Now tell me what your body’s saying.”

I slump onto the bench, sweat trickling down my spine. “It’s saying I’m not ready.”

He kneels again in front of me, tone low and honest. “No. It’s saying you need time. Which isn’t the same thing.”

Nico steps closer now too, crossing his arms. “You’re not failing by resting, Y/N. That’s the bravest thing you could do right now — listen.”

I exhale shakily, brushing my sleeve across my face. “I just… I don’t want them to worry. The boys. They were scared enough. If they knew I was training again, they’d—”

“—They’d be proud,” Diego finishes for me. “Because you're doing this smart. You're building up again. You’re not throwing yourself into a cockpit half-healed. You’re working for it. Quietly. Strongly.”

I don’t respond right away. Just nod and lean forward, elbows on my knees, eyes on Axel who’s still watching me with that serious, almost human stare.

“Just… don’t tell them yet,” I finally whisper. “Let this be mine a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico says, his voice softer now. “Your story. Your pace.”

“Besides,” Diego adds, grinning again as he hands me a bottle of water, “when you finally show up at the garage again and toss your helmet on like nothing happened, they’re gonna lose their damn minds.”

I chuckle. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”

I pick the dumbbells back up before they can stop me. Not for another full set — just one more press. One more reminder that I can. I lift them once, clean and steady, before lowering them again.

“That’s enough,” Diego says gently. “Today, that’s enough.”

And for once… I believe him. Because I know I’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after that. I’m not chasing the old me anymore. I’m building someone stronger.

—

I hadn’t realized how much I missed the scent of race fuel and burnt rubber until I stepped through the paddock gates again.

The buzz. The noise. The heartbeat of a track that never really goes quiet.

The second my shoe hit the pavement inside the circuit, it all came rushing back — that itch in my fingers to feel the steering wheel again, the thrum in my chest that didn’t hurt anymore but still pulsed with memory. I wasn't driving today — still under the "you're technically held together with sports tape and medical optimism" clause — but I was here.

That counted for something.

Nico was walking just to my left, sunglasses on, hands in the pockets of his black team jacket, looking every bit like my silent, slightly too-calm bodyguard. Meanwhile, Paul practically bounced beside me on the right, grinning like a rookie who’d been handed keys to a spaceship.

“I swear, I thought you were just a myth,” Paul said, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder. “They said ‘Ghost will meet with you before FP1’ and I was like, cool, should I also expect a unicorn and a sentient AI?”

My voice changer cracked slightly as I tilted my helmet toward him. “Sentient AI would be less chaotic than most of this team.”

Paul snorted. “And here I thought you were gonna be mysterious and intimidating. You’re… kind of hilarious.” I shrugged beneath my oversized hoodie. “Don’t get comfortable. I bite.”

“That would explain never taking that helmet off.” he said with an exaggerated look of fear. “Let me just go prep for my debut with the racetrack cryptid watching me from the pit wall.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Your job today is to not crash my car, Aron. It likes being pampered.”

“Anything else I should know?” he asked, just as we turned down the garage hallway.

I smirked under the helmet, then nudged him with my elbow. “Lots. Don’t downshift too hard into turn six — it’ll get twitchy. There’s a subtle bump on the exit of nine, trust your rear to hold but don’t overcorrect. And if you talk back to Diego during the debriefs, I’ll personally short-sheet your bed for the rest of the season.”

Paul stared at me, eyes wide. I tilted my head playfully. “What?” “That was… disturbingly specific. How do you even know about short-sheeting beds?”

“Because I’m creative and mildly vindictive.” Nico coughed — poorly disguised laughter — and muttered, “He learned it from Oscar.”

I pretended not to hear him and turned my attention back to Paul. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be on the pit wall the whole time, headset on, translating Diego’s feedback into ‘Paul Speech.’ He’s been dying to lecture someone other than me.”

“Oh great, I’m the replacement victim,” Paul said, mock sighing. “But really, thanks. This means a lot, Ghost. Being the reserve is weird — you never know when you’ll actually be used. I thought I’d be invisible.”

I reached up and tapped the visor of my helmet, voice softening through the modulator. “Invisibility doesn’t mean unimportant. You’ve got this.” He smiled then, really smiled. That bright, pure grin that reminded me so much of Jack it almost stung.

“Alright, cool,” he said, straightening his posture like he was trying to match the height of his moment. “Let’s go make you proud.”

“Oh, you’re already halfway there,” I replied. “You didn’t trip coming off the shuttle. That’s one more point than I had on my first day.”

“I knew you were a disaster once,” he laughed.

“Once?” Nico muttered beside us. “That implies improvement.”

“Rude,” I said flatly through the voice changer, flipping him off.

We turned into the garage then, the loud hum of tools and chatter dimming the second we stepped through the threshold. The mechanics looked up, a few nodding in recognition as I passed, others just giving me that respectful kind of glance — Ghost’s back. Even if I wasn’t driving, I was here.

Paul peeled off to go suit up. I took a breath, looking over at my car — technically still mine, even if someone else would be behind the wheel for FP1. It gleamed under the overhead lights, waiting.

My fingers twitched. Soon.

Nico said something, but I didn’t hear him — not really. Because just then, the gravity of being back settled in my chest. Not pain. Not fear. Just this warm, solid weight of home.

And I didn’t even realize how tightly I’d been holding onto that until I let myself feel it again.

—

The hum of the garage had dulled to a low buzz after FP1 wrapped. Tools were put back in drawers, pit boards were stacked, and Paul was somewhere in the back being debriefed, grinning like a kid who’d just aced his first big test.

I stayed where I was on the pit wall, not wanting to really speak to the media or answer questions. I didn’t need to hide here. But, it still gave me that edge of comfort… a thin line between me and the rest of the world. Especially when emotions threatened to press a little too close to the surface.

“You looked good out there,” a voice said behind me — calm, familiar, warm.

I turned slightly, already recognizing Franco’s tone before my eyes landed on him. He gave me a soft nod, leaning his elbows against the barrier beside me, helmet tucked under one arm.

“I wasn’t out there,” I said, the voice changer wrapping my words in static.

He tilted his head, blue eyes sharp and quiet. “Didn’t say you were driving. I said you looked good out there.”

I paused. Then exhaled through my nose and pulled out the mic cord completely, letting it hang from the railing as I leaned forward a bit, matching his posture.

There was a moment of silence before I added, softer, “You know it hurt… at first”

He didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“It hurt a lot to sit here and not be the one buckling in. To know that the car — my car — was about to be driven without me. And that I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t fight it.”

My hands clenched slightly at the memory — the ache in my ribs still faint under the surface, the scar on my arm pulling a little under the hoodie.

“I kept thinking about how many races I might miss… how slow recovery’s felt. How I used to fly in that thing. And now I’m grounded. Watching. Coaching. Like I’m some kind of whisper in the background of my own team. Truly a ghost by name. ”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just reached out and tapped his knuckles lightly against mine — an anchor.

“But…” I said, slowly, breathing in deep. “Then Paul started talking. Asking me questions. Getting excited. Like… full-on spark-in-his-eyes excited. And I realized I could still be part of it. Just from here. From the wall. From the headset.”

I looked down at my gloves, flexing my fingers. “He listens. Like really listens. And seeing him figure things out… watching him light up after his first laps? I don’t know. It felt… right. Not perfect. Not the way I wanted to be here. But right… okay.”

Franco nodded once, voice soft. “You’re still racing. You never stopped.”

I looked at him.

He smiled faintly. “Just because you’re not in the seat doesn’t mean you’re not driving this thing forward. He wouldn’t be out there doing so well without your help. You’re shaping him. You’re shaping this whole team.”

The words hit me harder than I expected.

My throat tightened a little behind the helmet. “I think… for the first time since the crash… I don’t feel broken being here. I feel like I still have a purpose. I want Paul to do well. I want him to prove himself. I want him to have the chances I had. And if I can help him get those… then maybe this isn’t all just pain and waiting.”

Franco reached up then and gently knocked on the side of my helmet. “That’s the champion mindset. And the good teammate mindset.”

He grinned. “Even with the scary voice mod.”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s for dramatic effect.”

“You’re terrifying,” he deadpanned. “Inspiring, but terrifying.”

We both chuckled, the kind of laughter that eases tension like a pressure valve finally letting go.

Then Franco leaned back and said quietly, “It’s okay to feel both, you know. The pain and the pride. You’re allowed to miss it. And you’re allowed to find joy in what you can do right now.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “For saying that.”

“Always,” he replied, and for the first time that day, I let myself take my helmet off — slowly — and just breathe.

He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t stare. He just offered a genuine smile, no different than the one he gave me when I was Ghost.

“You’ll be back in the car soon,” he said. “But until then? This version of you — the strategist, the leader, the teammate — is just as badass.”

I blinked at him, then smiled.

“Don’t tell Diego or Nico that. It’ll go to their heads, like some mother duckling they might pull me from my seat.”

Franco smirked. “My lips are sealed.”  I smiled back before following him back across the pit towards the garage. 

—

It was race day when the others finally found me.

Sure, they knew I was here. The media had caught glimpses of "Ghost" in the paddock all weekend, whispers and blurry photos circling online. But catching me for a real conversation? Actually pinning me down? That was a whole different challenge to them.

Until a very familiar flash of papaya orange caught me out.

I was tucked away in a quiet corner behind one of the hospitality buildings, sitting on a crate, sipping from a water bottle, my legs stretched out in front of me.

A shadow fell over me, and I looked up — only to see a smirking Oscar Piastri standing there, arms crossed.

“Well, look who I finally found," he said, tilting his head at me with a grin. "Thought you were supposed to be taking it easy during your injury. Yet here you are. Hiding like a delinquent.”

I didn’t get a word in before he stepped closer, peering dramatically at me.

“I hope you at least have your brace on under that hoodie," he teased, tugging playfully at the sleeve. "Would hate to have to carry you back to the medical center and explain to the physios why you’re broken again."

I scoffed behind the voice modulator, batting his hand away. "Relax, Mum," I said dryly. "Brace is on. Doctor's orders. I’m being good."

Oscar chuckled, dropping down onto the crate beside me with a quiet oof, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine.

"I dunno if sitting here in your emo corner counts as being good," he quipped. "But it’s good to see you. Missed you, you know."

I smiled — small, hidden — but it was there.

"Missed you too, mate."

We sat there for a beat, the sounds of the paddock — tools clanging, fans yelling, engines roaring in the distance — fading into a quieter hum around us.

"You look good," Oscar said suddenly, voice softer now. "Healthier. Stronger."

"Feel stronger," I admitted, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie. "Still a long way to go. Still can’t race yet. But it’s... better being here. Even if I’m not in the car."

Oscar nodded, watching me with that patient, careful look he only ever used when he dropped the sarcasm.

"I’m proud of you," he said simply.

Before I could say anything back — feeling dangerously close to getting a lump in my throat — another familiar voice floated over to us.

"There you are!"

I turned just in time to see Charles approaching, helmet in one hand, hair a little messy from pulling it off, suit half-zipped down. His face was lit up with relief, though there was a thin line of worry etched between his brows too.

"I have been looking everywhere," Charles said, crouching in front of us, resting his elbows on his knees so we were eye-level. "You are impossible to find sometimes, you know that?"

"Occupational hazard," I joked lightly, voice still crackling with the modulator.

Charles huffed a laugh, but then his gaze softened as he studied me.

"You are really here," he said, almost to himself. "And you are doing well."

"Trying," I said honestly. "It... wasn’t easy at first."

Oscar nodded beside me, nudging my arm. "But she's kicking ass. You should've seen her, Charles. Advising Paul like a damn pro. Ghost engineer era unlocked, I can’t wait to see what they can do during the race together."

Charles smiled — a real, warm smile — and reached out to squeeze my hand where it rested on my knee.

"I am proud of you, mon amie," he said. "More than you know. It takes a lot of strength to be here. To stay when it hurts."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing gently into my chest — not painful, not overwhelming. Just... steadying.

"I needed to be here," I whispered. "For the team. For myself. Even if it’s just helping from the wall. It feels like... I'm still part of it."

"You never stopped being part of it," Oscar said quietly.

Charles nodded, squeezing my hand once more before letting go. "And you never will."

For a moment, the three of us just sat there in the shade, the chaos of race day spinning on without us. It didn’t matter. It could wait.

Because here, hidden behind the noise, tucked into a small, forgotten corner of the paddock, I was reminded that even when I couldn’t drive, even when my body wasn’t at a hundred percent — I wasn’t alone. And that was enough. For now at least.

—

The race was chaotic.

From the second the lights went out, my heart thundered in my chest, the noise of the engines vibrating through the pit wall. I sat perched on a high stool right beside Diego, headset snug over my helmet, live feed on the monitors in front of me.

Paul's voice crackled through the radio — tight, a little anxious. His first F1 race. His first real chance. He'd qualified P14, and while it was a hell of a debut, he wanted more. We all did.

"Focus up, rookie," I murmured into the radio, voice softened by the modulator but still carrying the firmness I knew he'd hear. "Eyes forward. Breathe. You’re better than half the grid out there."

"Copy," Paul answered, clipped but trying to sound calm. I could hear the nerves anyway, layered under every word.

The first few laps were brutal — midfield battles that could turn ugly fast. Paul held steady, sharp and clean even under pressure. But he hesitated at key moments — lifting just a fraction when he could’ve pressed the attack.

"Car ahead is struggling with rears," I said, low and steady in his ear as Diego fed me data. "Watch him out of Turn 7. You’ll have him on exit."

A beat.

"Okay," Paul breathed. "Okay, Ghost. I trust you."

I smiled behind the visor, chest tight with pride.

And sure enough, two laps later, Paul slipped past in a beautifully patient move, climbing to P13.

The race ebbed and flowed, the pit stop cycle throwing chaos into the midfield. Every time Paul's focus wavered, I was there — guiding without overwhelming, steering him without grabbing the wheel.

"Car in front weaving under braking. He’s nervous. You stay clean. He’ll crack first."

"Brake balance forward two clicks. Save your fronts, we’re gonna need 'em later."

"Trust your exit speed. You’re faster in S2. He can’t stop you if you set it up early."

It was like music, almost — this silent, invisible dance we did together, woven between the roar of the engines and the crackle of the radios.

Lap by lap, Paul clawed his way forward. P12. Then P11.

When we hit the final stint, fresher tires on and the car lighter on fuel, Diego leaned toward me, excitement flashing in his eyes.

"One more position," he said into my private channel. "We get points."

I keyed my mic again, calm even though my heart raced like mad.

"Paul. Eyes up. P10 ahead. You are faster. You are faster. Stay close. Pressure him."

Paul’s breathing was heavier now, the strain of the race wearing on him, but he responded instantly. "Copy, Ghost. I’m on it."

I watched, fists clenched, as he chipped away at the gap — lap after lap, tenth by tenth.

Finally, into Turn 4, he made the move — bold, late on the brakes, perfect.

P9.

Inside the points.

The final few laps were a blur of adrenaline, shouting, encouragement.

When the chequered flag waved, Diego practically threw his headset into the air beside me, and I couldn't hold back the yell that ripped from my throat over the radio.

"YES, PAUL! YES! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT!" I screamed, voice cracking with pride and joy.

Over the team radio, Paul whooped, the pure exhilaration pouring out of him.

"OH MY GOD, THANK YOU, GHOST! THANK YOU!" he shouted, breathless. "I COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!"

"You did that," I said, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt under the helmet. "You kept your head, you fought smart — you earned this, Paul. You earned every bit of it."

He was still yelling and laughing as he pulled the car into parc fermé, tires screeching slightly. The mechanics and engineers around us were clapping, cheering, and I stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed.

He did it. We did it.

I pushed through the crowd toward the car, heart hammering.

Paul barely waited for the car to cool down. As soon as he wrestled himself out of the cockpit, he tore off his steering wheel, slammed it into its mount, and sprinted toward me.

"Ghost!" he shouted, voice hoarse with emotion.

I didn't even have time to react before he threw his arms around me, nearly knocking us both off balance.

Our helmets clashed with a loud crack, making both of us stumble a little, but neither of us cared. Paul clung to me like a lifeline, arms tight around my back, helmet pressed to mine.

I wrapped my arms around him in return, gripping him just as hard, laughing breathlessly even as something in my chest squeezed and ached with pride.

"You absolute legend," I said, voice trembling. "I'm so proud of you, Paul. So, so proud."

He pulled back just a little, enough that our visors almost touched.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Ghost," he said again, voice thick. "You believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could do it."

"I knew it from the start," I said quietly. "You just had to see it for yourself."

For a moment, the noise of the world faded away — the shouting, the music, the celebration. It was just the two of us, standing there in the middle of it all, holding onto each other like it mattered.

And maybe it did.

Maybe it mattered more than either of us could say.

Masterlist

Taglist @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo @reiluvr @mymmyrym @ferrarisstrategy

[bunnivez]

Modern! Zoya…

Her first job was as a tattoo artist. Most of her costumers were women, they would specifically ask for her to do their tattoos; both because of her amazing work and the other… to get a close look at her. Whats better? Zoya is aware of the many women she is pulling (๑>؂•̀๑)

Imagine you two meet randomly bumping against each other and turns out you work at the shop right next to the one she works at!

Or you got recomendad by your friend to go to a certain shop to get your tattoo done, telling you to specifically ask for a woman named Zoya since her work is more professional and she is more trusted to give you great results.

She used to live in an apartment until she got a husky… I mean she it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford an average house but damn, she now has to pay more…

Has a love-hate relationship with her dog TRUST. Often complains of their sudden howling and the amount of hair they shed.

“It’s 1:30AM why the fuck are you howling like that!? You sound like you’re dying!” “Oh my f… You know i’m tempted in leaving you bald so I don’t have to deal with having your hair on the couch.”

At the same time however, they are also her best buddy and friend. There are times where she even lets them sleep with her on bed… For at least an hour before Zoya falls asleep and accidentally pushes s them off the bed in the middle of the night.

Yes she is a messy sleeper, god knows how the heck she ends up with on leg on the headboard and the other hanging on the bed. She snores like a dad…

Like even her huskey got scared for a second and kept barking until she woke up.

Listen, when going out she has this whole badass outfit, rings on her fingers, chains, unbuttoned blouse, a whole ass fit that screams “DADDY”

And then there are times where she just pulls up to the grocery store with an “Idgaf” outfit… Yet somehow she still looks hot. Jorts, a black baggy shirt, socks with the damn sandals or crocs combo (ಠ_ಠ)

Has a tongue piercing and you cannot tell me otherwise. If not, it is definitely her nipples.

Dark or alcohol filled chocolates girly. She isn’t a fan of overly sweet stuff.

Once choked on boba balls.

Honestly she can be romantic at times. She takes you to dates often— if not she plans something you two can do at home. Like cook, watch movies, play games or something.

Motorcycle rides with her are very common, more so with the fact that she doesn’t really own a car… Which she did confess that she may or may not be the best at driving.

Who knows how the heck she managed to stay alive with the many incidents she’s had while driving.. I guess she’s immortal.

Has an electric guitar, she posts videos on TikTok playing it and they get pretty high views! Like 406.1k views or something.

Her reposts mainly contain of two things; brain rots, lesbian.

Takes the most silly pictures of you and posts them on her story.

Source ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

HAHAHSGSBSGAVAWHABE, IMAGINE HER LAYING DOWN WHILE YOU SIT ON TOP OF HER TO DO HER MAKEUP.

Holds you like a stuffed animal when sleeping. It’s actually so cute but it’s kinda hard to break free from her hold.

YOU GUYS PLAY ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, AND WHOEVER LOSES IS IN CHARGE OF COOKING.

Her cooking is actually pretty damn good! I feel like she is especially a specialist when it comes to cooking meat.

If you are too shy to order your food whenever you two are out, or pay, DO NOT WORRY, SHE LITERALLY IS YOUR SAVIOR, NO KIDDING. This woman gives no fucks at all, too shy to order? She’ll do it, hot your order wrong? She’ll go up and tell them.

Have I mentioned she gets up at 5AM just to do pushups?…

The type to randomly smack or grab your ass, she doesn’t care about the size.

I don’t recommend watching romance movies with her… she will cringe at any kissing scenes acting like she wouldn’t or doesn’t do that with you 24/7.

Not the best at dancing… Girl is STIFF.

I have the feeling she is the type to not admit that she is in pain during her period. She will act all tough and all until she can’t anymore.

(We need more comforting the ptn women on their period instead of the other way around, they also need comfort 😔)

Oh yeah did I also mention she was close to breaking your phone once? It all happened when you were scrolling through TikTok and saw a thirst trap (*cough* Rhea Ripley *cough*) and when I tell you grabbed your phone and threw it… IT HAPPENED.

Says she hates kids but has a soft spot for them actually. They remind her of Horo when she was wayyy younger.

Randomly sends you weird TikToks…. Like it’s so random and she says nothing about it.

She isn’t a fan of dresses, but she once tried it for you and it was a sight. It hugged her curves right and she kept flexing her muscles. If you take any pictures she seriously will kill you. (Especially if you send them to her friends).

If you are out she WILL text and call you every 36 minutes if she can’t come with you. And if she is too busy to pick you up she will face time you on your way home.

Has like so many posters of her favorite bands, korn, kiss, Deftones, ect.

Randomly gives you kisses when you least expect it. They are so random, you could be distracted and she will kiss your cheek, or your forehead, or the top of your head.

If she sees anyone eyeing you while in public she will pull you close and give the person a nasty look.

[katyawriteswhump]

I hear your voice (and it carries me)

for @steddieangstyaugust day 17 prompt: 'Keep breathing, please."

Rating: M WC: 1700 CW Drug-use Tags: Established steddie, alternate canon season 4 (with details fudged and twisted for my own plotty purposes.)

What if Vecna came for Steve first, not Chrissy? (No actual death, I promise, just guilty-pleasure pop and major angst…)

...

Eddie climbed through the window that Dustin had left open and into Steve’s hospital room. His boots smacked too loud on the floor, and his every muscle tightened.

Steve was wired up to a series of bleeping machines. Plaster casts smothered three of his limbs. His neck was in a brace, and his face was half-lost beneath an oxygen mask.

Eddie knew, of course. Steve had arrived here in a far worse state than this. 

Still one helluva punch in the gut.

He tiptoed to the bed and located Steve’s Walkman, which had been dumped on a trolley. He slipped it back over Steve’s ears, careful not to disturb the mask. Dustin and Robin had played a showstopper in convincing Steve’s mom that Steve would want constant pop. 

Unfortunately, the medical staff kept taking the darn thing off.

Eddie didn’t switch the cassette on right away, however. He anxiously smoothed Steve’s hair.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “I panicked, Stevie. I was too fucking scared. I should’ve broken your fall, and I should never have let you… I… I shouldn’t have…” He pressed his lips to Steve’s cool, clammy brow. A fat tear dripped from his nose. “Keep breathing, Baby. Keep breathing, please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Dustin’s yell blasted through Eddie’s walkie-talkie. Eddie scrambled to turn the volume down.

“Henderson, what the heck?”

“Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds early. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

…

One week earlier

Steve lay flat on his back on Eddie’s bed, shirtless, and with his jeans tangled round his knees. Eddie was sprawled on top of him—a smokin’ hot mess of sweat and hair—and kissing Steve stupid.

Steve should’ve been in a happy place. He was sucking Eddie’s face off, grinding himself up into Eddie, while Eddie pawed hungrily at his ass. Eddie wanted in, and Steve wanted nothing more than for Eddie to bone his brains out.

If only he could shake these stupid jitters.

Christ, the blood pounding in his ears drowned out the mega-loud Aerosmith track on his latest mixtape. He was also dog-tired, and sick of it. The nightmares had ruined his sleep for days.

And they were all total bull.

Yeah, Steve felt guilty about shit. Not only about Barb, though that was a biggie—there was so much he’d screwed up in his life. He sucked. He got it, blah, blah, blah.

No way was he buying into crazy hallucinations where Eddie yelled and hated on him. Let alone ones where Robin transformed into a squelchy tentacle monster. He was going out of his tiny mind. It was the only reasonable explanation, and the only answer right now was…

Eddie broke the kiss. “You okay, Babe? Still got a headache?”

“I’m fine.” Steve dabbed his lips, shivering because Eddie was too far away already. “I’ll be fine. Gimme more of the good stuff, okay?”

Eddie turned down the music. “Seriously? You mainlined poppers earlier—enough to lay low a daddy buffalo. That shit means business.”

“So I do. Stop being a freakin’ pussy.” Steve wedged his hand between Eddie’s thighs and purred. “I can totally handle it, and if I do turn to mush? Means I can take even more of this big boy.”

“I’m not sure, Stevie… Oh shiiiit.” 

Steve mercilessly squeezed Eddie’s dick, batted his lashes. Yeah, he’d beg if he had to. Anything to feel less tense and haunted, to feel he was actually in the room with Eddie. 

He never had to.

Eddie pulled a dopey face, started rummaging through his stuff. Steve dragged his jeans up with fumbling hands. He maxed out the stereo volume—snickering because Eddie was gonna literally piss himself when the track-after-next started—and wandered toward the kitchen to get more beer.

….

Eddie located a shoebox full of snazzy lil’ multicolor poppers and a sachet of Special K. Then his frazzled brain caught up with him.

He’s already had waaay too much. Okay, he’s still revved as fuck, but THAT’S NOT NORMAL.

He ditched the shoebox, grabbed a jar of Acetaminophen. After tipping all but two pills out, he peeled off the label. He’d tell Steve they were hardcore tranqs. Shifty, but… Screw it, he cared about Steve more than he’d ever cared about anyone. Yeah, Steve had bugged him for downers. Eddie should never have caved. He vowed, one way or another, he’d wean his boy off ’em.

He was, admittedly, launching his campaign the coward’s way. Had to start somewhere, right?

“There you go, Honey,” he said, wandering out. “Boneless bliss just moments away.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. He dropped the jar. Steve stood motionless in the middle of the trailer. His eyes were lidded, twitchy with the occasional flash of white.

“Steve?” Eddie dashed forward, started shaking him. “Talk to me, Steve. Wake up! Can you hear me? I don’t like this, Stevie.”

Shit! He’s ODd already!

Eddie jostled him, pleaded with him. Right till the moment Steve levitated up into the air and smacked into the ceiling.

Eddie staggered back. The Black Sabbath track blasting from the stereo ended. Silence reigned.

One of Steve’s arms twisted the wrong way at the elbow and popped. Eddie screamed, then actually pinched himself, because this had to be a horrible dream, and then…

‘Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth’

Belinda Carlilse. Belinda fucking Carlilse. Yeah, Steve loved to sneak pop-tastic hits onto his mixtapes. Eddie would always crack up, plus he didn’t hate them either.

One of Steve’s legs contorted with a sickening snap.

‘They say in Heaven, love comes first

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth…’

Steve’s eyes flashed from white to brown. He fell, landing with a horribly crunching smack.

In the blur of the next few minutes, Eddie called an ambulance. He leaned close over Steve’s blue-ish lips, sensed the faintest warmth, though didn’t dare touch him. His eyes bled. He looked so… broken. Eddie prayed to some WASP deity he’d never believed in that he was the one having a really bad trip.

He went with Steve in the ambulance and held his limp hand on the ride. They’d already got that mask on his face, the brace around his neck. At the hospital, Eddie watched Steve’s gurney disappear through swinging doors. He collapsed in the waiting room, buried his face in his hands.

Steve’s parents arrived soon after. They joined the doctors in bombarding Eddie with thunderous glares, until the truth finally glimmered.

They believe I did that to him.

Even if… WHEN… Steve wakes up, they’ll say we were both high as fucking kites. They’ll blame the satan-worshipping freakshow.

Convinced the cops were on their way, Eddie fled via a fire escape. While he was holed up at Reefer Ric’s, two teens were murdered. The whole town now believed Eddie was the monster behind those crimes, too.

“Way to go making a play for the FBI’s Most Wanted list,” Dustin said, when he brought Eddie supplies. “If you hadn’t run, those deaths would’ve got you off the hook. Not that you’re exactly innocent. You know your fun-time sweeties repressed Steve’s breathing as badly as the neck injuries? Sent him into that coma?”

“Wow, you’re a real genius! Never dawned on me. Oh, hold on. IT’LL TORTURE ME EVERY GODDAMN MOMENT, OF EVERY FREAKIN’ DAY, FOR THE REST OF MY CURSED LIFE.”

At least the kid had a theory about the attacks, supernatural sorcery shit that blew Eddie’s mind. Also, one of Dustin’s friends, Max, was apparently lined up to be the next victim. For some wild reason, the only thing keeping the killer at bay was endless Kate Bush.

“Eddie,” asked Dustin, while Eddie stared into a box of Cap’n Crunch he’d literally no appetite for. “Is there any music you reckon might help Steve?”

…

‘In this world we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'’

Steve was beyond sick of Belinda.

She ebbed and flowed through his consciousness pretty much constantly. Trouble was, whenever she was randomly gone, as she was now, the swirling red fog around him thickened. He was confused, and yeah, he was frightened. He’d not heard any squelching footsteps or booming synth voices lately, but he sensed that thing was still out there.

He occasionally heard talking. People poked and prodded him, and breathing was sometimes a scary battle. He tried to talk himself once or twice, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. He was lost and sick and hurting and… so lost.

Right until he felt somebody stroking his hair. Then a moist feather-soft brush on his brow. 

Eddie.

He’d recognise Eddie’s kiss anywhere, whether rough or dumbass levels of sweet. Eddie was here. Eddie was with him. Steve strove harder than ever to fight free of the choking fog.

“Keep breathing, Baby.”

Eddie’s voice. Broken and distant, but it was him.

“Keep breathing,” Eddie whispered, “please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Steve’s blood literally jumped. Shit, was that Henderson? “Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

Too much. Steve’s head was too muddled, he didn’t understand. He finally fluttered his eyes open and latched his blurry focus onto Eddie. Who startled like a coyote bit his butt. Steve would’ve laughed, if he’d gotten the lung power.

“Steve? Steve!”

Eddie seemed spooked. Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed. He was in a hospital bed. He’d got some weird plastic mask thing on his face. When he tried to lift his arm, pain lanced hotly. 

Oh God, oh God!

He fixed on Eddie and felt himself calm a little. “Please,” he murmured, his voice a barely-there rasp. “Don’t go.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand and smiled gently. “Not if I can help it, darlin’.”

Steve faintly registered a door flying wide. A voice cried out, echoed by a wailing alarm. He somehow found the strength to grip Eddie’s fingers, even as Belinda Carlisle launched up in his ears again:

‘Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore…’

Eddie’s hand was torn away from Steve’s loosening grip, and Steve slipped back into the fog.

...

(Steve is okay, Vecna got distracted and El whipped his ass anyway, then Eddie get off, and it all ended happily... promise!) You tube link to 'heaven is a place on earth' for other 80s pop obsessives

Thanks for reading! All my ST fic on AO3

[cntloup]

SUGAR

Mafia!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Rival's Daughter!Reader angst, toxic relationship

Simon was never a man for fancy ball events but as the right hand man of John Price, had to be by his side at all times especially at times like these, meeting with the rival. As they arrive at their destination and get the formalities of greetings and introductions out of the way, he goes to settle by the bar where he can have his eyes on the whole room, just in case. He orders his usual Kentucky Bourbon. As he stands there, drink in hand, his eyes searching the room for any kind of threat, that’s when he sets his eyes on her... and he should have taken her for what she really is... a threat; he should have ran right then and there but he never did. He had heard about her, the daughter of their rival, but never seen her beauty and grace up close. She looks elegant with a charming smile... and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. She feels a set of eyes on her and looks for them in the crowd and finally faces him. She's heard about him too. She starts walking towards him to greet him properly and that’s when it all started.

“This can’t happen.” he mutters in between kisses as they hide in the hallway “Why not? Cause we’re rivals? Who the fuck cares? If anything I’d be happy to fuck him over.” “who?” “My dad of course. Who else? I hate his fucking guts.” he’s surprised to hear that then replies with a chuckle “Why? Not the lifestyle for you?” “Fuck no! I feel like I’m in a cage. His puppet that he gets to play with and show off whenever he pleases.” he thinks that he can understand her struggles as he has his own trauma too.

And you play a twisted little game, But I know in a way, You need to complicate it, Believe that though we never eat, We still know how to feed, We still know how to bleed, oh

At that time he thought that she’s too sweet and innocent for this life, but that’s where he was wrong. The arguments, the push and pull, the manipulations started not too long after they first felt something for each other which he thought of as pure. He felt used and abused, he started to feel paranoid even more than before, never trusting anyone, even doubting his peers, sometimes even Price. His head full of thoughts like ‘Is she just using me for information?’ ‘Am I just a guard dog to him?’. But there was another side to her; so loving, patient and understanding of his pain and torment... also she was an enchanting seductress. Fuck, she was intoxicating. She had him completely wrapped around her finger.

My arms keep you in the room, Barely let you move, Show me what you do, oh, Tonight, we're second-guessed again, Let me wrap the chains, Addicted to the pain

As he pulls her into his room, never taking his lips off of her, nibbling and kissing any part of skin he can reach, he kicks the door close and corners her against the wall, not letting her move an inch. “What the fuck are you doing to me? My mind is in shambles cause of ya! Do you hate me or love me? One day you stay by my side through everything even when I’m at my worst but the next day you act like I don’t even exist as you come to the meeting with another guy on your arm!” he grunts as he puts one hand around her throat squeezing just enough to make her dizzy, just how she likes it. She smiles devilishly with no reply and pushes her lips against his and he can’t stop her, he never can. He’s addicted, fucking addicted to the pain she puts him through, addicted to her taste, everything about her. If she wants to see how far he can go, if she wants to test him, he’s more than willing to play this game with her.

Do you wanna see how far it goes?, Do you wanna test me now, my love?, You must be crazy if you think, that I will give in so easily, Things we buried low, Coming to the surface now, my love, You must be crazy if you think that I will give up the game, Oh, whoa

Sugar, I've got a taste for you now, Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: sharing a bed

It took all of ten minutes for Jason to cave and climb into Nico’s too-big bed. His weight dips the mattress to one side, and as he slides under the blankets, Nico gets hit with his fan’s frigid breeze. 

“Told you,” he mutters, flipping over onto his left side. He sticks his hand under his pillow. 

Jason makes a face, wrinkling his nose and giving Nico a sort of side-glare, before he settles fully down, hugging Nico’s spare pillow. “I don’t like disobeying Miss Sally.” 

Two months ago, Nico would’ve been right there with him. He’s lived under her roof long enough to know which rules they can nudge, though. “Percy constantly lets Grover share his bed.” 

“Percy and Grover are different,” Jason says, his voice just a shade above a whisper. “You know it’s different.” 

Nico shrugs. “Sally doesn’t know that.” 

Jason looks far less amused than he should. “I’m serious,” he says. 

This is what Nico gets for dating a serial rule-follower, he supposes. Rules are rigid and unbending, in Jason’s mind, no matter how insignificant. He approaches “entrance” and “exit” signs like he’ll get arrested for mixing them up. 

It’s something they’re working on, together. It’s something Nico can help with. It’s always tricky, with Jason, working around the thorny patches of his logic, but Nico knows firsthand that once Jason can tame that anxiety, he’ll feel so much better. 

Nico is also aware it took him almost half a year to even start changing his own habits regarding rules, or moreso his perception of them, and that was only after a few years of built up trauma around it. Jason has his whole life to unwind. 

But, there is still progress, which Nico makes sure Jason knows he’s proud of. It’s easy to start with things Jason wants that he sees as outside the rule-boundary, things like sneaking dessert out of the pavilion at camp so they can eat it somewhere peaceful, or sharing Nico’s oversized princess bed so he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor.

Sometimes it feels a little bit like treat-training a dog. Nico did something similar with Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus, after all. It’s a guilty thought to have. Jason isn’t a dog, and Nico isn’t his owner, isn’t trying to train him. He’s just…he wants Jason to feel free. He hates when Jason mentally butts up against one of the walls of his cage and physically recoils from something that would make him feel better. Make him feel good, and human, and normal. 

“I want you up here,” Nico says. He matches the gravity of Jason’s tone, watches Jason’s eyes dart around, lit by the dimmed string of star-shaped lights over the bed. Nico reaches out, slowly, and pokes Jason’s wrist. “I know I’ll sleep better if you’re here.” 

Jason swallows. He shifts his weight on the mattress, his foot kicking out just barely into Nico’s space. “What if Miss Sally comes to check on us, and she sees-? Will she get mad?” 

“Maybe.” He wants to temper Jason’s fears, not lie to them. He hasn’t seen Sally get mad at anything other than when the dogs chew on shoes, or when he and Percy fight too loud in the backyard. This, something easy enough to explain, he doesn’t think she’d mind. “But she would never punish me, or you, over it. Over anything. The worst she’d do is give us a stern talking to, and maybe make us sleep on the couch next time.” 

“The couch is an option?” 

Ugh, no, the couch is not an option. Nico taps his fingers against Jason’s wrist bone and wrinkles up his nose, tucking himself up more in his comfortable blankets and pillows. 

Jason, finally, breaks into a little smile. “You’re spoiled now.” 

“Hush. I’m allowed to like having a bed, and I’m allowed to want to share it with my b..with my boyfriend.” 

The room hushes over, the sound of the fan hiding how hard Nico’s heart thumps. 

It’s still new, that part of this. It’s still hard to say it out loud. Pushing out of his comfort zone is something Nico is working on himself, though. 

Jason beams. He’s probably blushing, though it’s too dark to see and Nico’s half buried his face in the pillow to hide his own face.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. 

Jason turns his hand around and laces their fingers together. He finally lets go of the tension in his arms, lets himself sink into the bed. Nico feels how the blanket moves with it. 

“You’ve convinced me,” Jason whispers. “But if we do get caught, you’re doing the talking.” 

“Deal,” Nico says, and squeezes Jason’s hand. He peeks, just to see another glimpse of that smile. He likes Jason’s smile. It doesn’t even ache to admit it anymore. “Go to sleep, now.” 

“Can do.” 

(Sally pokes her head in at eight AM, after Nico and Jason miss breakfast. She blinks, at first confused to see the empty pallet at Nico’s bedside, then understanding when she sees the bed itself. 

Jason is fast asleep at the edge of the bed, peaceful and relaxed, hugging a pillow to his chest, the blankets tangled around him. Just over the slope of his shoulder, she sees Nico’s curly head of hair nestled close. 

She’s careful not to let the door squeak as she leaves them in peace.) 

[randomgurl2326]

Ignorance Is Bliss Pt. 1

A/N: Thank you to the beautiful Anon for requesting this fic. This has been one of my delusions that help me sleep at night. So, may I please introduce you to the ‘she fell first but he fell harder’ trope that we all love. With, of course, Ema and Mickey helping and hoping for them to get together💚💜

As the h/c girl closed her locker, Ema was yet again tired of the ongoing “will-they-won’t-they” of the l/n girl and the Spindell boy. “All I’m saying is, maybe you should tell him because you’ve been hopelessly in love with him since fifth grade.”

Y/N pointed at Ema and said with a cheeky smile, “ah no, sixth grade, get it right. Also, there is no way in hell that I’m going to tell him, alright?”

Worth that the Winslow best friend sighed, and the two best friends walked to French class.

Meanwhile with a Mickey and Spoon…

“…a-and she has this thing where whenever she’s talking about something she likes that she does with her hair, y’know, like this,” the rambling Spindell boy said while demonstrating what his object of infatuation does with his own hair, not quite show ing it right.

Mickey chuckles and shakes his head, “y’know, telling her how you feel would be a great idea. Maybe, I don’t know at the park or something. Oor-9r, hear me out, just telling her would be nice.”

“Oh, dear Mickelous, that is simply just not possible. You see, you cannot simply fathom how much platonic-ivory oozes from her when we hang out together. Also, Y/an does not like the park because of children and the grass makes her itch; it would probably have to be during the night while under the stars.”

“Oh yeah, totally platonic when she looks at you like you actually hung the stars in front of her. Just like that show she likes with Azipy- Aziry-, nope, can’t say it.”

Arthur sighs, “Mickey, my bestest friend in the universe, she doesn’t like me and she never will, okay? Now come on, we’ll be late for wood shop and I’m looking forward to making a bird house that can stand this year.”

As they walked down the hall to their next class, Mickey sighed and started to formulate a plan and text Ema:

M: we need to come up with a plan for these two — sent at 10:45 a.m.

E:

Ik, I can’t take it anymore — sent at 10:46 a.m.

Meet me in the MILF room after lunch, well conspire there — sent at 10:48 a.m.

M:Ok, and btw, I hate that name — sent at 10:50 a.m.

Also y do u sound like an evil genius?? — sent at 10:50 a.m.

E:

Ikr, horrible name. And, idk, I just do sound like one ig — sent at 11:00 a.m.

Meet u after lunch — sent at 11:01 a.m.

After Lunch…

“Okay, now, that was a rough forty-five minutes to get through,” Mickey said this as him and Ema walked into the abandoned boiler room, a.k.a. The MILF Room, a.a.k.a. The Spindell Spot.

As the Winslow girl sat down on the couch she managed out, “yeah, that was unnecessarily hard. It’s like they want to look into our souls and have us tell them everything. Y/N really needs to stop looking like she’s about to run over a dog.”

“It’s seriously out of hand how much information they can try and gauge out of us. Spoon is the worst. He literally has that look on his face where he look-“

“Looks like he’s the most innocent and pure thing on the world? Yeah, I’ve seen that look. He’s literally the devil in disguise,” Ema then pulls out her laptop to take notes on how to get the two oblivious, love-sick, diabolic, little love birds, “so, you ready to do this?”

Mickey smiled and sat down next to his other best friend, “ready to finally get them to stop pining over each other and being self destructive? Hell yeah.”

And so, the two of the four best friends created a plan to get the other half together.

“…by the way, when do I have to get you and Rachel together,” the Bolitar boy than got smacked by a book by the alt girl and continued with their scheming.

To be continued…

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this, but I want to make my little anon chalupa(and my readers proud) so I’m doing this. Please give me feedback on how I could improve the is one.

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

LOST - Another Story

Rating: M

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Well. Welcome back to Lost - Another Story. I don't think I've posted a chapter since Jan 2022. But here we are! I've been rewatching the series and feeling the sting of being without my favorite Lostie, Amelia. So here is the next installment. I hope you enjoy!

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Homecoming 

I must have fallen asleep, because when I hear voices I open my eyes and sit up. My whole body being completely stiff is also a damn good sign, too. My pack is squished up awkwardly where my head was once laying with a sharp edge right where the base of my neck was. Terrific.

“Over here. Jack!” Someone calls. I can't see who it is. I rub the back of my neck and feel how tight my muscles are; this is why I don’t sleep at the caves. Man if only I had some aspirin then this place would really be worthwhile.

“Where's Jack?” Locke says as Charlie approaches, “We need the doctor.”

“He's right there,” I say while pointing, “Right there.”

“What happened?” Charlie asks me, and I gesture to where Locke is walking into the caves carrying Claire.

“Jack!” Someone else yells and I rub my temples. This is awful to wake up to.

“Doctor!” Locke calls and Charlie rushes over to Locke.

“Claire?” Charlie says and I scramble to my feet.

“Is she alive?” Michael asks.

“What happened?” Walt asks me, and I just shake my head. I couldn’t possibly explain it all in such a short amount of time,

“Is she alright?” Charlie asks and Jack is at my side.

Jack goes over to Locke and picks her up instead, “Where did you find her?” He asks.

“About a mile north. We were looking for the dog,” Locke replies.

“Was she conscious?” Jack asks.

“She collapsed in my arms.”

“Did she say anything?” Charlie adds.

“Charlie, man! Is she injured?” Hurley interjects.

“Is she alright?” Walt asks and I look at him and shake my head again. He backs off and I sigh loudly.

“Everybody needs to back off, okay? Just give her some air,” I yell to everyone around as Jack wipes Claire's brow with a cloth. I’m surprised when they actually listen. Doctor perks I guess.

“Claire, can you hear me?” Jack asks, “Wake up now. Hey, Claire, Claire. Wake up now.” Claire opens her eyes and Jack looks at her, “Hey.”

Claire screams and scrambles away and I clap my hands over my ears. I hate Clarie’s screams in this one. This is not a good day for me. A headache is painfully stabbing me at the base of my neck. Stupid backpack. 

“Claire? It's okay. It's okay,” Jack says in a panicked but soothing manner.

“Claire. You're safe,” Charlie adds, looking at me nervously.

“Who are you? Who are you?! Who are you people?!” Clarie screams and everyone exchanges looks.

“I don't understand. I don't know any Ethan. I don't remember. I don't remember any of you. I don't remember any of this,” Clarie says all panicked. 

“What do you remember?” Charlie asks and I give him a side glance.

“Um, I was on a plane flying to LA from Sydney,” Claire says with all the certainty she can muster, which isn’t a whole lot.

“Claire,” I say as I kneel down beside her, “We were all on that plane. It crashed here -- on this Island. That was almost a month ago.”

“No, I'm, I'm due,” Claire begins to say, but I rest a gentle hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly she doesn’t flinch away like she had the rest.

“Your baby's fine--” Jack interjects, but I finish, “--He's kicking, everything's normal. Okay?”

“Well, if it's been almost a month then why hasn't somebody come to get us?” Claire asks and Jack glances at me to give an explanation. I stare back plainly. Jack, Locke and Charlie look around not knowing what to say, and I notice Jin and Sun looking on and beginning to converse with one another.

Boone and Locke leave the group and I get up to follow them. I’m sure Jack begins to say something, but part of me has absolutely no time for his bullshit, despite my inherent uncomfortableness around Boone.

“You think she escaped?” Boone asks and I realize I’m right at the start of their conversation. Boone has his back turned to Locke who is sitting on something on the ground. I sit as well. Locke nods to acknowledge my presence then answers Boone, “You were right beside me, Boone, you know as much as I do.”

Then Boone turns around and spots me. My stomach does a funny flip, and not in a good way. He doesn’t say anything to me, other than his line: “Well, where did she come from? I mean, we were out pretty deep. Nothing's out there,” Boone pauses and Locke gives a faint smile, “She didn't say anything at all about Ethan?”

“Apparently she doesn't even remember Ethan,” Locke responds.

“The guy pretends to be one of us -- he drags her through the jungle for almost two weeks -- she doesn't remember him?”

“Apparently.”

“You think he's around?”

“I sure hope not,” Locke and I say at the same time. This is when Boone and Locke begin to engage me.

“Is he coming back Amelia?” Locke asks. I’m a little stunned because I wasn’t sure Locke believed that I knew literally everything.

“It’s not my place to say,” I reply cryptically, I don’t want them to think I’m a traitor or something, despite the fact that the truth of what I am has surely spread far and wide throughout the camp by now.

“C’mon Amelia,” Boone says, taking some steps closer to me, “We won't tell anyone, besides, you already know a secret of ours.”

I sigh heavily and Locke looks at me surprised, to my relief Boone answers Locke’s questioning stare: “She knows about the hatch Locke, she knows everything.”

I’m about to answer, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Why did I come out here anyway? What was the purpose? I really can’t remember and I’m starting to feel as sick as I did when I was eavesdropping on Locke and Boones hallucination experiment conversion. I open my mouth but Jack suddenly shows up to come to my aide.

“She doesn’t have to tell you anything, Boone,” Jack says mildly defensively and Boone backs off immediately. I jump to my feet and walk quickly away with Jack. We’re heading back to the beach. 

About halfway there I’m suddenly struck with a memory, and a question I meant to ask Jack a while ago. However, I hesitate for a moment, because there are a few questions I want to ask but I’m unsure of what order I should ask them in. I mull things over for a moment, and ultimately decide to thank him, first, then ask my weird time travel questions.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” I say out of the blue and Jack seems stunned at my words, “I didn’t think you would, considering you always wanna know future stuff.”

“Boone is slimy and I didn’t want him to take advantage of you,” Jack responds quickly and I wonder if he’s growing a soft spot for me and all of my weirdness and uncontrollable knowledge.

“I wanted to ask you something, though, and maybe it’s a little weird but I gotta know.”

“Sure, go for it, we’re almost back to the beach though.”

“Yeah I understand, uh so before this is before the crash. When I was 14 my whole family was killed in a terrible explosion. Sewer Gas,” I pause to take a suddering breath and Jack gestures for me to continue on speaking. This is hard to talk about. 

I take another breath and continue, “I was thrown 50 feet from the outside oof the house, where I was taking out the trash. They were waiting for me to come back when they died. I broke my neck and several other bones while sustaining 3rd degree burns on most of my back and some on the back of my arms. I wasn’t expected to make it after being thrown from that distance. But the ambulance arrived and I was rushed to the ER where I was X-rayed then immediately put in emergency surgery. I was partially paralyzed. The surgeons expected that I wouldn’t regain full range of motion even with the surgery. But they did it anyway. Once I had woken up, a doctor came to see me. He told me his name and that he was the one that operated on me. He said that the surgery was an immense success and that they didn’t see why I wouldn’t make a full recovery after a year or more of physical therapy. I was heavily bandaged and still a little sedated but still managed to catch the doctor’s name when he told me. That doctor was you, Jack. You operated on me and told me that you’d be with me, observing, every step of the way. Then you disappeared and I forgot about you. You saw me just a few weeks ago, lying with bandages over 80% of my body. But here I am now.” I look up at Jack who is staring straight ahead. We slowed down walking as I kept speaking, and now we’re just at a standstill with Jack staring off into the jungle with a far off look in his eye.

“Jack?” I ask tentatively, “Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Jack replies and whips his head to look at me and a wild expression is painted all over his face. I smile grimly, trying not too seem too hurt about this load of information I unceremoniously just dropped on him. I feel tears rising up from my throat and I do my best to push it back down. 

Jack doesn’t say anything for a really long time. I kind of stand around awkwardly as I watch Jack’s brain go through some very obviously deep thoughts. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I brought it up, or what the point was. I mean, is there a point? Is there some sort of pull I can use to get Jack to finally take me seriously? It wouldn’t be bad to finally have Jack fully on my side, and maybe this is what I need to influence things. To make a difference, to make something change. Even if whatever happened, happened. 

“Do you have anything to say?” I ask Jack. This seems to shake him from his thoughts and we start walking again.

“I never put those two things together. You looked familiar, but…” Jack trails off and I can’t help but roll my eyes. He’s so dramatic.

“Does this mean you’ll take me seriously? I mean, this time travel stuff isn’t bullshit. You’ve experienced my younger and current selves within a month,” I reply with a bit of amusement. Honestly I’m not sure why I never put two and two together until now either. I guess I just pushed that time of my life away because it was so damn traumatic. 

“Well I have undeniable evidence,” Jack says with his weird breathy laugh. I smile to myself. 

“Man of Science,” I mutter and Jack tilts his head in my direction but doesn’t say anything. 

In the morning, Sayid, Charlie, Jack, Locke and I are gathered around on the beach. I arrive after the rest of the men, and Jack regards me with a new expression. It fills me with hope and maybe, just maybe, it will solidify my existence enough for the Island to provide me with plot protection. It’s a fairly beautiful day and the ocean looks particularly pretty. I can’t get caught up in the scenery, we have a plot to move forward.

“The girl is pregnant. Very pregnant,” Sayid says, “Are we supposed to believe that she escaped from him?”

“What are you getting at?” Charlie says very indignantly and I roll my eyes. I’m over feeling bad about line stealing so I try to speak up, but Sayid beats me.

“Ethan infiltrated us. Whoever he is and wherever he comes from, he's intelligent. Who's to say he didn't even send Claire?” Sayid shoots back and I bite my tongue. I’m not surprised when Jack looks over at me.

“You're off your head, mate! That-” Charlie begins to say in protest, but Jack cuts him off.

“Charlie, calm down. That's a stretch, Sayid,” Jack says, all along with a side glance at me. I wonder if he’s looking for facial confirmation. I decide to give him a half nod. Jack presses his lips together tightly.

“Then tell me, doctor, how many times have you diagnosed actual amnesia and such a selective brand of it?” Sayid replies and I hold back a smirk at the fact Sayid is questioning the doctor. The spinal surgeon. While I get they’re trying to make Jack the hero, I know for a fact there is no way he remembers this sort of stuff from med school. Hell, I don’t and I’m in it. Or was I guess, now.

“Okay, it's rare,” Jack says, finally stopping his weird side glances, “But she's been through a major trauma. It is possible that her memory reset to the crash.”

“And the chances of that memory returning?” Locke asks, but the question is not to Jack, it’s to me. Jack unashamedly looks at me now, everyone does. 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t ever explained,” I lie, obviously. But maybe they’ll buy it with Jack on my side, “Producers, y’know?”

Charlie rolls his eyes and I’ve completely decided I don’t like him as a character anymore, “You know what? You guys can talk about Claire all you want. I'm actually going to go spend some time with her. I get the impression she might still be a tad upset.” 

Charlie goes running off. I don’t say anything to the rest of them and take off after him. I know what’s happening next and maybe I can back Ethan off of Charlie. Chances are I can’t, but I’m willing to save Charlie’s neck this one time. Only because Ethan gives me the hella creeps.

I see Jin up ahead walking with his fishing net. Charlie comes running up with me right on his tail. Charlie scoffs at me and I don’t bother engaging. I only hope Ethan doesn’t knock me out with a rock as well.

“Oi, Jin. You heading back to the caves?” Charlie exclaims and I wave at Jin. Jin nods his head at me slightly and I’m hoping Sun has told him good things about me, otherwise, I’m probably in trouble. Early series Jin isn’t one to mess with.

“안녕,” Jin replies and I can only assume it means hello. At least from my old google translate days when I watched the show. 

“Safety in numbers, right? Of course, you have no idea what I'm talking about. How nice it must be to not be involved in the bloody insanity that surrounds us at every turn,” Charlie says with a glance at me. He’s starting to ramble and I look around slowly in preparation, “It's quite beautiful, really. You take care of your wife. Everything else is someone else's problem. No need to be involved in the decision-making process. No tree-shaking behemoths, French transmissions, just sweet, bloody ignorance. You don't know how lucky you are, you know. Must be nice. You wake up and…”

Suddenly we hear a whirring sound. Predictably, they both look around like wild prey looking for their predator. I know better, steeling myself for an attack.

“What?” Charlie says and Jin gets pegged with a rock and collapses. Ethan appears and walks up to Charlie and me.

“Charlie, I want her back,” Ethan says, then whips his head to me, “Amelia, funny to see you here.”

“Wonderful to see you too, Ethan, really fantastic,” I say very sarcastically and with a roll of my eyes.

“What? I…” Charlie says and looks worriedly between the two of us. I stand in between Charlie and Ethan. 

“I want you to bring her back,” Ethan replies, taking a step towards the both of us. Charlie grabs onto my shoulder in fear and I internally smirk at his spinelessness. 

“We both know that’s not going to happen,” I try to say as bravely as I can, “We’ll kill you first.”

It’s not a lie and there's no way for Ethan to call me out on any bluff. For once I’m using my knowledge as a threat, to protect the people I care about. Even if Charlie did punch me in my stab wound that one time. Ethan is going to be killed, and I’m going to be the one to do it, not Charlie. I’ll make sure of it, maybe it’ll send my dear friend Ben a message.

“What did you do to her?” Charlie says nervously and it breaks me out of my thoughts. I try to shield Charlie as much as I can but I don’t feel him grab a stick and try to hit Ethan with it, “What did you do?!”

Then, and this is what I’m not expecting, Ethan grabs me by the neck and lifts me up against a tree. I grab at his hand and claw at his arm. I try to not panic but it’s kind of hard not to when pushed so pathetically up against the tree. I knew this would happen, but certainly not to me. I’m starting to not be able to breathe and Ethan starts to speak.

“You bring her here. If you don't, I'm going to kill one of them. And then, if you don't bring her back before sundown tomorrow, I'll kill another, and another, and another. One every day,” Ethan says and finally drops me. I collapse to the ground to see Ethan turning to Charlie, “And Charlie, I'll kill you last.”

Ethan leaves and we’re left alone. I’m surprised when Charlie rushes to my side and helps me sit up. He leaves a hand on my shoulder until I look up at him with a more steady sense of breathing. Charlie holds out his hands and I use it to pull myself up.

“You need to be more careful Charlie,” I say exasperatedly, “Ethan is not someone to mess around with.”

“You two seem pretty cozy,” Charlie says hostilely, “Are you sure I can trust you?” 

I scoff and then laugh. Charlie regards me with a stand-offish expression. I just shake my head and reply, “He knows me only because his leader knows me. Where Ethan is from, I’m a threat.”

“Where is he from? What the bloody hell do you mean Amelia?!” Charlie shouts and I hold up my hand and take a step to back away.

“Listen Charlie, sooner or later you’re going to have to accept that I’m on your side. I came out here to help you because I knew Ethan would do what he did. Knock out Jin, and push you against the tree. I didn’t know I would be taking your place in that, though, since I came along,” I try to stay as calm as possible. While Charlie isn’t a loose cannon like Michael, he does get pretty violent pretty soon. I want to make sure I’m not going to get shot.

Charlie seems satisfied with my answer, and I watch as he seems to mull things over. He looks over at Jin and I glance as well. I know Sun is going to take care of him but I feel bad just leaving him here. I don’t know what happened between the two scenes, and I want to make sure Sun will find Jin. Or at least that he’ll wake up. 

“What about Jin?” Charlie asks, voicing my concerns out loud, and in fewer words. 

“Sun will find him, he’ll be okay,” I reply, still looking at Jin lying unconscious on the jungle floor.

“We need to get back to the beach,” Charlie says and I nod.

“Lead the way,” I say as I gesture the way we came from. With one last look at our surroundings, I follow Charlie at a hurried pace back to the beach.

I must have zoned out because I’m startled when Charlie shouts, “What do we do? We go out and we bloody kill him!”

Locke raises his hands slowly at Charlie, “Calm down, Charlie. We don't want the others to get upset and…”

However Charlie interrupts him, “Forget the others. He's out there right now, Locke.” He’s practically spitting venom. 

Then Jack butts in, “I think he's right. The man threatens to kill one of us unless we bring him Claire, and what, we just wait for that to happen? We tracked him once before, we can track him again.”

“You both seem to have forgotten how that turned out,” Locke says and turns to Jack first, “He bested you physically,” he turns to Charlie, “He hung you from a tree,” and finally he turns to me, “now Amelia is getting choked up trees with a healing stab wound. Running into the jungle unarmed is not going to get the job done.”

I sigh indignantly and jump in before Charlie speaks, “I’d like to mention that I was helping Charlie not get shoved up that tree. Also, you need to stop worrying so much, Ethan’s threats are empty.”

Locke regards me for a moment before replying, “Just how do you know this?”

“Because she’s a bloody spy that’s how!” Charlie shouts more at me than at Locke. Jack quickly steps up to me and places himself between me and Charlie.

“Those are some serious accusations, Charlie,” Jack says in a pretty menacing tone, “Locke, do we really need to go through this again?”

“Go through what?” Locke says with an air of innocence. Man he has been pissing me off more than he ever did in the show. Maybe he is just far more insufferable in person than an actor could ever portray.

“Oh right,” Charlie says while rolling his eyes, “She just knows everything. This is bullshit Jack.”

“Hey! I’m trying to help here, Charlie,” I shout at him, moving Jack roughly to the side so I can shove my finger into Charlie’s chest. He seems taken aback, “You better be fucking careful about what you say to me-”

“Why? So your big bad boyfriend Sawyer can come get me?” Charlie interrupts, Jack stares at me in surprise.

I scoff and I honestly don’t know how I hide my surprise at his comment so well, maybe because my next angry statement is out of my mouth before I can register it, “Because dipshit I know how, when, where, and who is gonna die so I’d be careful running your mouth to someone who could save your fucking life.”

The group is silent and staring and I realize that perhaps I’ve made a really big mistake. It’s quickly replaced with anger when Charlie spits at my feet and walks away. I make a move to run after him but Jack traps me with his arms hooked under my armpits and I do nothing but kick up sand. When I relax he releases me and I jump back from him, smoothing my shirt down my back to avoid anyone seeing my scars.

“Well, that was eventful,” Locke says, nonplussed. I roll my eyes and decide to get back to the predetermined dialogue. 

“So what does get the job done?” I say in the calmest tone I can muster. I must not have done a good job because Locke’s face slips a little.

“We circle the wagons, tell a select few about the threat. We post some sentries here and back at the caves,” Locke finally says regarding Jack and me. Jack glances at me so quickly I almost miss it.

“Tell a select few? He does what he says he going to do and that blood's on our hands,” Jack shoots back and I want to kick him. I almost don’t want to argue because I figure what’s the point if the script is still going to play out. Maybe the combined stubbornness of Jack and Locke is too much for my “powers.”

“Okay, Jack, we tell everyone. But, you want to protect them, you need to start thinking defense,” Locke says and I sigh.

“We move everybody off the beach, back up into the caves,” Jack responds and I decide to jump in for another fruitless attempt before Locke speaks up.

“Jack that is a fucking stupid idea. Ethan is definetly hiding in the jungle,” I roll my eyes and Jack makes a tight-lipped expression at me. Maybe I shouldn’t be so mean after he just defended me.

“And to add, what if Ethan isn't alone? What if he delivered his threat so that we would gather like sheep to the slaughter in a confined space where they can roll in and take us all in one fell swoop,” I say again, stealing Locke’s line and feeling super smug about it. I sort of hate him right now.

“Okay, Amelia. Obviously, you have a plan. So, let's hear it,” Jack says and I am momentarily shocked by the change in what Jack says. Either way I continue with the story.

After our conversation Locke and Jack go their separate ways. I don’t really know what to do so I follow Jack in silence. We walk all the way back to the caves in silence. It’s kind of odd and I feel weird not saying anything. He still doesn’t say anything to me when we make it to the caves and and we sit down. Jack starts sharpening a knife and I stare into the waterfall. I don’t know how long we sit there. I feel like Jack wants to say something, but before he can Kate approaches.

“You look hungry,” she says and throws Jack a fruit. She nods in acknowledgement of me. I raise my hand as a stupid wave.

“Thanks,” Jack responds shortly. I look at Kate to see her expression but I don’t find one I can decipher easily. 

“Locke told us what happened. Why do you think he wants her back?” Kate asks and I almost think to get up to leave.

“I don't know,” Jack says and Kate seems to get a bit antsy. 

“Maybe it's time you use that key you know Amelia has been hiding. There are 4 nine millimeters in the Marshal's case and-” Kate says and I’m surprised. However Jack cuts Kate off.

“Uh-uh. No. I hand them out, someone hears something out in the jungle and gets scared, the chances of us shooting each other are much higher than of us shooting him,” Jack says calmly but I know he’s not. I sort of forgot about the case, I tucked it away so carefully in my tent it was like out of sight out of mind. 

“We're beyond sharpening knives here, Jack,” Kate reasons and her voice shakes me from my thoughts.

“I am not putting guns in untrained hands,” Jack responds with a sense of finality. He gets up and walks away leaving me and Kate to look at each other. Eventually Kate nods to me and I get up and go with her. Wherever the hell that is.

“I thought those guys had a full on perimeter set up?” Hurley says somewhat nervously. I gnaw at my fingernails. It’s a habit I’ve seem to pick up over the past couple of days. It’s not enough to distract me from the ever growing sense of guilt and doom, but its something.

“Locke said it didn't matter -- he came in from the water,” Kate sighs and I inhale sharply. I’m worried for my own life. Ethan said he would kill Charlie last, meaning I was one of the potential targets. He needs to die, and soon.

“You sure it wasn't an accident? I mean, maybe the guy just drowned or something,” Hurley tries to say but Kate just shakes her head. 

“His neck was broken, both his arms, all the bones in his fingers.”

“Yeah, okay. Got it.”

Then Sawyer strolls up to the scene and throws his arm over my shoulders, “So, Steve drew the short straw,” he says.

“Dude, that was Scott,” Hurley replied and Kate scoffs at Sawyer. I look up at him and he grins at me. Then both Hurley and Kate walk away, discussing Ethan and what Locke should or should not be doing. Sawyer pulls his arm off me once Kate walks away. I cross my arm and look up at him.

“Are you only doing that to piss off Kate?” I ask with a tad bit more malice than I intend. This seems to take Sawyer by surprise.

“What do you mean blue eyes? I’m not doin’ anything,” He seems to understand because his words have a sense of playfulness to them. I’m not having any of it.

“Well you seem to only come around and flirt with me when Kate is around,” I huff and my face turns red, “It’s not nice to toy with a girls feelings.”

Sawyer’s smile turns into a shit-eating grin and I suddenly feel very hot, “Now what do you mean by that?”

I stumble backwards as Sawyer takes a step closer. I just realized what I said now I can’t think of anything to say to get out of it. Instead I just end up sputtering pathetically while trying my hardest not to sink into the ground with embarrassment. Sawyer chuckles and grabs my waist when he finally approaches. My skin is prickling where his fingers make contact with the sliver of skin under the hem of my shirt. All I can do it stare wide-eyed at Sawyer as he leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Here I was thinkin’ you were always around ‘cause you had nothing better to do,” Sawyer’s breath is warm in my ear and I can’t suppress the shudder that makes its way up my spine, “Now the truth is out, you have a little crush on me. Don’t ya blue eyes.”

“Let go of me-” I say sharply. I don’t really mean it but we’re standing in the middle of the beach where everyone can see us. I feel extremely embarrassed, I’m sure I’m making glass out of the sand below me with how hot my body is from embarrassment.

Things get worse when I hear Jack suddenly shout something at Sawyer. He launches back from me and I hide my tomato face in my hands. Then Jack is upon us.

“The hell are you doing Sawyer?” Jack says angrily and I peek out behind my fingers.

Sawyer shrugs noncommittally and with a lopsided smile says, “Nothin’ Doc, just teasing ole blue eyes here. Completely harmless.”

“Whatever,” Jack responds. I’m surprised he lets it go so quickly. However, now turning to me Jack says, “Amelia I need the case.”

I drop my hands and Sawyer looks upset, “Right. Yeah it’s in my tent. Let’s go,” I reply and can slowly feel my face cool down. Jack turns and I move to go with.

“Hang on a tick,” Sawyer says and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Jack stops and turns again to face Sawyer.

“What now Sawyer?” Jack seems more annoyed than when he first came over.

“I seem to recall retrieving a case from a lake with blue eyes here. Could that be what you’re referencing?” Sawyer replies and I roll my eyes again and decide to respond.

“Yes but as I seem to recall, you willingly gave it to me. So if you’re wanting it back just because Jack is interested then you are out of luck dimples.”

Sawyer doesn’t seem to be in a fighting mood today, so he just shrugs and walks away with a cheeky wave to Jack and I. I raise my eyebrows back to Jack. He doesn’t say anything as he turns around and starts walking down the beach to my tent. I jog to catch up with him and walk in silence until I retrieve the case from the hidden place in my tent.

As Jack and I approach, I see Boone sharpening a spear with a knife while Locke is next to him. We bypass Boone and head straight for Locke. My grip on the case tightens significantly as we pass Boone. I can feel his eyes on me but I stare straight ahead. I don’t think Jack knows what transpired between us, and I don’t intend to tell him anytime soon. When we stand in front of Locke he looks at the both of us with a curious expression.

“John, want to take a walk?” Jack says and immediately Locke stands up. We walk away a bit. Once we stop I stick one of my hands into my pocket. I feel for the key and the metal is cold when my fingers brush it. I slip it out of my pocket and hold it in the opposite hand the case is in. Then Jack speaks again.

“What do you think happens after the sun sets tonight?”

Locke mock ponders for a moment, “Oh, if we don't bring Claire to him? Rhetorical, Jack. Same thing happens tonight as happened last night.”

“You think you can track him?”

“Well, I'm sorry?”

“We know where he attacked Jin, Amelia, and Charlie. Do you think you can pick up the trail?”

Locke pauses before he responds, “Maybe, but I wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't?” Jack replies. He seems upset and I try not to look at him. 

“Jack, I'm not a cold man. I feel for the loss of one of our own, but nothing fundamental is changed,” Locke says slowly, “Wherever he is, wherever he comes from, we're on Ethan's turf. He has the advantage. To him we're nothing more than a bunch of scared idiots with sharp sticks.”

“What if I told you I had a way to get the advantage back?” Jack says and i finally look at him. Jack holds an expecting expression and the case feels a bit heavier in my hand. I’m getting nervous about shooting Ethan, but if all goes to plan then Charlie should have no way to get a gun.

“Then I would ask: what way might that be, Jack?” Locke says and I can see that his eyes drift to the case in my hands for a moment.

Jack turns to me again and I crouch down and set the case on its side. I fit the key into the lock and open it slowly. Carefully I slip the key back into my pocket and show the men the contents of the case. Locke lets out a low whistle and I look expectantly up at Jack.

“Why, doctor, you've been holding out on us,” Locke says then turns to me, “Or doctors I suppose.”

I smile slightly as Jack replies, “I'm guessing you know how to handle one of these?”

Jack picks a gun up out of the case and holds the it out to Locke who then takes it apart and puts it back together. Jack nods and I close up the case and lock it once again. I carefully put the key back in my pocket again and hold the case with two hands as we all stand. Jack and I walk away from Locke and start making our way to the caves. Locke returns to his place beside Boone and they start making conversation. I glance back and notice Boone side-eyeing me. I inhale sharply and turn away. And so the games begin. 

Once Jack and I arrive at the caves, Charlie and Sayid join us. We talk for a little while. I nervously bite my fingernails until Locke shows up. I’m not sure why we didn’t just go to the caves together. I guess Locke had to say something to Boone before we left. Then Jack starts to explain the plan we have with Claire. Unfortunately, Charlie is upset and decides to speak his mind.

“Are you insane?!” Charlie says angrily and for once I don’t roll my eyes at his opposition. From his point of view it’s a terrible plan, especially since he cares for Claire. However…

“It's the best chance we have, Charlie,” Jack says, almost finishing my private thoughts out loud.

“No bloody way!” Charlie shouts and Sayis puts a hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to capture Ethan, we have to ensnare him. And the only way do that is by giving him what he wants,” Sayid says calmly but it doesn’t calm Charlie.

“You have no idea what you're talking about. This guy, he will kill all of you. You can't protect her…” Charlie says, but then Claire waddles in and speaks over him.

“Charlie, I can talk for myself,” she says and I smile at her.

“Claire, they want to use you as bait,” Charlie says, trying to reason with her after he shakes Sayid’s hand off of his shoulder.

“I don't remember Ethan. I don't remember what he did to me. But if I can help stop him from hurting anyone else, I have to do that,” Claire sounds brave but I can tell she’s nervous. Now to make sure Charlie can’t mess up my plan.

“I'm coming with you. You said there were 4 guns,” I say. Jack and Locke look at me.

“You ever fire a weapon, Amelia?” Locke says with a smile that is supposed to put me down. I straighten my shoulders.

“Actually I have, didn’t you hear about the polar bear?” I say defiantly and Locke just shrugs. I notice Charlie seething out of the corner of my eye and have to suppress the smile. +1 for Amelia Kassman.

“Alright, we should do this. Let's figure out a game plan. Alright, Sayid, you're the soldier. Locke, you're the hunter. . .” Jack begins and we flesh out the plan. While nervousness is still eating a hole in my stomach, the determination for what I have to do is pushing me forward. I’ve only ever shot a polar bear, and that was purely on luck since I knew exactly where it would be.

“Amelia’s right,” Locke says as we make our way back to the beach. I already knew where we were heading.

“About what?” Jack asks, and I glance over at the two of them. We arrive at the beach as Locke makes his next statement:

“We have 4 guns, we should have 4 men.”

So we walk over to Sawyer and Kate joins us halfway through. She doesn’t ask where were going, but I know she is somewhat aware of the plan. Sawyer spots the group of us walking. He catches my eye first and gives me a wink. My face turns red again as he stands up to meet us halfway.

Once he approaches, Jack says, “We need your help capturing Ethan.”

“Help? Moi?” Sawyer asks with a dramatic hand to his chest. I stifle a laugh.

“You know how to handle a gun, or not?” Jack asks, not having any of Sawyer’s bullshit.

“Yeah I think I can handle it,” Sawyer says and Jack hands him a gun. The line changed and I notice. He was supposed to say he shot the polar bear. I almost forgot about that. Then Sawyer says, “Where'd you get the hardware, Hoss?”

Jack doesnt respond and Kate speaks up, “I want to come.”

“Sorry, we're out of guns. And no one goes out there unarmed,” Jack replies as he shakes his head.

“How much ammo you got?” Sawyer says, glancing at me then back at our tents. Damn, I completely forgot Saywer has another gun.

“100 rounds give or take,” Jack says with a noncommittal shrug

Sawyer raises an eyebrow, considering their options. “All 9's, right? 9 millimeters -- the guns?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?” Jack responds, curious.

“Because, if the lady wants to come...” Sawyer trails off, retrieving a gun from his tent. “Lifted this off the Marshal back in the old days. Remember him, don't you? Surly guy, kind of square of jaw, carries a Sig 9.”

Jack's expression tightens with a mix of acknowledgment and disapproval. “Yeah, I remember you shot him. And missed.”

Sawyer chuckles. “Yeah, well, bygones. And hell, 5 guns are better than 4.”

We prepare to head out into the jungle and I glance over at the feeling of being watched. I notice Charlie staring at us with a mutinous look in his eye and I feel glad to be the one who I going to shoot Ethan to save some heat from Charlie. Maybe he won’t like me as much, but maybe if I’m able to explain it to him, he’ll finally understand what I’m trying to do here. Once we’re all gathered up and ready to do with the guns in our hands Sayid starts to explain the plan to Claire.

“He'll be surrounded at 5 points. Everyone will be in visual contact with you,” Sayid says, first turned to Claire. Once she nods in understanding he continues, “Make sure you stay in the area I've shown you.” Sayid turns to the rest of us and says, “And remember, guns are a measure of the last resort. We want him alive.”

“That’s not going to happen.” I think.

I turn back before we head out, and just like originally Charlie is watching us leave. The sky is cloudy as we walk into the jungle. We walk in line, Jack leading with Claire, then Locke, Sayid, Kate, Sawyer, and me bringing up the rear. Right before we make it to a clearing it beings to rain, pouring. Just like it happened before. My heart is pounding in anticipation, and Sawyer must sense the energy I give off because he looks back at me every so often. Everytime I give him a brave smile, trying not to seem too nervous about killing someone. Not that he knows that.

We arrive to where Jack things a suitable spot is. A clearing with trees that are easy to climb. Sayid climbs a tree and Claire stands in the middle of the clearing in the rain waiting for Ethan to come. Sawyer, Jack, myself, Kate, and Locke are hiding just out of sight, positioned all around the clearing. I ready my gun, waiting for Ethan to approach. After wating for a while Ethan suddenly appears and starts chasing Claire.

We all take off after Ethan. Jack circles around and runs in to tackle Ethan, which ends in him losing his gun. The rest of us come to help as Jack and Ethan slug each other. My pants are muddy and my hair clings to my forehead. I linger behind, wanting to make sure nobody sees me load the bullets into the chamber to prepare for what Charlie is supposed to do. My hands shake and I try my best to steady them. I don’t want to miss.

Then Locke shouts, “Over here! Over here! Jack's got him! Hold your fire. Don't shoot. We want him alive. Claire!” Locke runs over to her, making sure she’s nowhere near Ethan. “You alright?” He asks Claire and she gives a very shaky nod. I wait for Sawyer’s line patiently. Nobody seems to notice I’m hanging back. Perfect.

Sawyer comes running up with Kate following, “Over here!” 

“Hey, hold your fire!” Sayid shouts at them, and they lower their guns slightly.

“Easy,” Sawyer growls and Jack lands a particularly good punch on Ethan. Jack finally eases up and gets up off of him. Everyone moves in closer to make sure he is down.

“Winner by a knockout. Nice one, Doc. Now, maybe somebody can tell me just who or what this son-of-bitch is!” Sawyer says, his hair getting into his mouth as he shouts. Then, Ethan starts to get up, and everybody points their gun at him.

“Uh, uh, uh, jungle boy. Not even for one second,” Sawyer says, raising his gun higher and aiming right where I’m going to shoot. His line was my queue and I pull the trigger.

Ethan is shot in the chest 6 times. Everybody whips around as Ethan collapses into the mud and the gun is still smoking in front of me. My hands are shaking and Sawyer looks at me in disbelief, but with a tinge of pride. Everyone else, however, looks at me even more terrified than they did when they found out I was from the future. 

“Amelia?!” Jack shouts, the first words anyone seems to make out. I know he is supposed to say Charlie, so my plan worked out perfectly, even though I had to kill somebody. I’m sure that won’t be the last time.

I tuck the gun in the back of my jeans and without saying a word I begin trekking back to the beach. Halfway back the rain stops and I’m grateful for it. Nobody called for me, nobody ran after me, so obviously they were all pretty stunned. To be honest I’m surprised at myself for handling murdering Ethan so well. I didn’t really like him, well actually I hated him, and knowing Juliet delivered him as a baby doesn’t do much to dampen the feelings I have. Eventually, I make it back to the beach, still soaked to the bone and sweaty at the same time. I immediately head towards the case and put the gun back where it once was, after properly emptying the chamber, double checking the safety, and ejecting the mag. Then I lock it all back up, slip the key into my pocket, and decide to sit in the sand to dry off until the party eventually comes back.

Jack eventually comes and finds me, toes dipped into the edge of the waves. I don’t say anything when I hear him approach. I knew he would, it’s what he did when Charlie was the one to shoot Ethan, and I know this Island well enough by now that if I take someone’s place then it’ll just fill in everything that happens anyway. He sits by me, keeping his feet well away from the waves kissing the edge of his boots. I can feel Jack’s gaze on me, searching for answers in the depths of my earlobe. 

"Why did you do it, Amelia?" Jack’s voice is soft, but his tone carries a weight of disbelief.

I turn to meet his gaze squarely, feeling the weight of his disappointment. "Because he deserved to die," I reply evenly, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t regret what I did. Not yet.

Jack shakes his head, his expression conflicted. "He could have told us where he came from, what he wanted with Claire, why he…"

"Do you really think he would have told us anything, Jack?" I interrupt, my voice edged with frustration. "I wasn't going to let that animal anywhere near her again. Ever. For Charlie’s sake."

"But we–" Jack starts, but I cut him off.

"But we nothing," I assert, feeling my patience wearing thin. "Anything you want to know, I know. You just have to be willing to actually listen. That’s been the problem the whole time. You don’t seem to trust me."

"I trust you," Jack insists, his voice tinged with defensiveness.

I sigh, feeling the weight of our strained relationship pressing down on me. "Well, it really doesn’t seem like it," I retort. "For whatever reason, you and the rest of this camp are very wary of me. Maybe it’s the Sawyer thing for those who don’t know, which I find hard to believe that anyone doesn’t actually know." I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "People give me wide berths. Even if I’m the only other doctor on this Island, the rest of these background characters don’t trust me."

"Background…?" Jack starts to question, but I plow on, needing to get this off my chest.

"That’s beside the point, Jack," I continue, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "I just want you and Locke to listen to me for once. This whole ‘I’m going to do whatever I want because I know best’ attitude isn’t making me want to share anything. It’s only driving a wedge, and Sawyer seems to be the only person I can trust to not blab."

The words hang heavy in the air between us, the tension thick and suffocating. I can see the conflict in Jack’s eyes, the struggle to reconcile his trust in me with his sense of duty and responsibility to the rest of the group. But until he’s willing to truly listen, to see me as more than just a kid or another survivor he has to protect, our relationship will remain strained, and the truth will continue to elude us.

He doesn’t say anything else and I’m glad for it. I didn’t really want to talk to him beyond the predetermined dialouge anyway. After a few minutes, he leaves, a hand brushing over my shoulder in some sort of goodbye. It makes my sink prickle with anger, but I do my best to push it down. Things have changed, I can feel it. With Jack, with Sawyer, with everyone.

Maybe now they’ll take me a little seriously.

LOST ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in updates!

[guardian-of-fandoms]

Rescue Bots as Ducktales 2017

Kade: I’ve done nothing with my life! I’m a failure!

Dani: Aww, that never bothered you before.

-

Cody: Great party, can’t wait to tell my therapist about it when i’m older, BYEEEEEEEEE

-

Frankie: To the Naos! That’s greek for temple.

Cody: Okay, stop assuming i know things. Like, base line, assume i know nothing. 

-

Graham: Are you saying Kade would rather eat us than hot dogs?

Kade: I do hate hot dogs...

-

Cody: We’re.. okay?

Dani: Oh my gosh, no magic can kill me I’M THE CHOSEN ONE!

-

Graham: Please, not everything is a dark family secret!

Charlie: KIds, i’ve got a dark family secret.

-

Heatwave: Cody’s crashed so many times, i’m convined he may be immortal!

-

Cody: Do you know how many evil robots i have faced?! HAHAHAHAHA too many....

-

Kade: TREASURE!

Dani: ADVENTURE!

Graham: HISTORACAL ACCURACY!

-

Chase, playing detective: Look what the Cat dragged in.

Dani: ... You asked me to come here???

-

Kade: Dad won’t even let me touch the toaster!

-

Dani: His life is like a Haiku!

Kade: Yeah, it’s fake garbage that structurally makes no sense, He’s obviously lying!

-

Graham: You know who my best friend is?

Kade: Me!

Graham: Sleep.

Kade: (offended gasp)

-

Kade: IF I DON’T MAKE IT TELL MY SIBLINGS I WAS THE BEST ONE!

-

Dani: Sure, i’m not the best at cooking, or age appropriate stories, or child endangerment,  BUT NOBODY’S PERFECT!

-

Cody: Talking animals wearing clothes!

Kade: Oh no, did we die? are we in cody heaven?

-

Cody: He tried to kidnap me, so i trapped him in an improvised ball pit snare trap.

Frankie: Alright!

-

Dani: Make our markes on the world!

Kade: Not have to answer to anyone!

Cody: Be horribly alone.

-

Graham: I’m still not counting out a Methane Gas Leak.

Dani: NOT EVERYTHING IS A METHANE GAS LEAK

-

Cody: You... realize there’s a difference between quitting and dying, right?

Dani: Not to me.

-

Kade: Heatwave, who’s side are you on?!

Heatwave: Oh, neither, this is just way more entertaining to me than that movie.

-

Woodrow: Just because it’s a myth dosen’t mean it’s not true!

Graham: Well, actutally....

-

Woodrow: That’s what they want you to think!

Charlie: Who is “they”?

Woodrow: Exactly...

Charlie: ... what?

-

Graham: Are we supposed to examine every rock in this tunnel?! ... actually, that sounds pretty fun- WAIT THAT’S NOT THE POINT

-

Kade: WAIT YOU WERE TRYING TO HELP HIM KILL US?!

Dani: If i’m gonna be sacrifed, i wanna do it right!

-

Heatwave: Most kids wouldn’t get this excited over impending doom. Kade usually just cries.

-

Doc Greene: SHUT UP EVERYONE, I’VE DONE SOMETHING BRILLIANT!

-

Doctor Morocco: STOP LAUGHING! I’ve wasted an entire reel of film, and you’re not even in frame!

-

Frankie: Do you think i put glitter on my top secret notebooks just because it’s pretty?

Cody: (sheepishly nods with glitter covered hands)

Frankie: Well, sure, it’s a perk, but-

-

Charlie: I’ll be in my office if you need me. please don’t need me.

-

Graham: oooooooh, do i spy some Shale?

Dani: how is that better than subway monsters?

-

Kade: I’ll try to listen to you next time, and not, y’know, pull a kade.

Heatwave: Seriously, that’s a thing now?

Kade: It’s all about branding.

-

Blades: It’s a cautionary tale on Mole Monsters! And everyone could use a lesson on chainsaw saftey!

-

Cody: This appears in like all of my dreams. i’m cradeling a moon made of my own tears???? who knows what that’s about.

Frankie: ... i have some theories.

-

Chase: I’m afraid that dosen’t belong to you, Evan and Miles!

Miles: I’m afraid i don’t care!

-

Frankie: Then i shall keep your secret, for i believe in science. but i also belive... IN LOOOOVVVEE!!!

-

Charlie: Where’s kade?

Dani: Sleeping.

Graham: Who’s kade?

Dani: (slowly looks over at graham)

(charlie runs off)

Dani: ... WHO’S KADE?!

-

Graham: Do you need me to get a briefcase?! ‘Cause i can go get one, and become the vice president of being Chill! ‘Cause i’m chill!!! I’m straight chilling!!! LIKE A VILLAIN, EVEN!!!! (manic laughter)

Kade: Oh no graham’s broken...

-

Woodrow: I guess you could say i’m well versed in the custodial sciences, hehe...

Cody: ... WE TRUSTED YOU!!!! CAME ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE, GOT ATTACKED BY A SQUID!!! 

[abraxo-official]

New Vegas thoguhnts (so far)

- I don't know why Doc Michell is giving me a psych evaluation but I trust him

- sunny smiles is just *chefs kiss*. A lesvian and her dog should be the tutorial standard

- poison damage is so, so much worse. Can the air stop killing me.

- the hate people give victor….. Tbh half of goodsprings would have a field day if they found out about synths

- the karma system is giving me LIFE. I want to be judged this harshly in all games tbh

- low poly bisexuality my beloved

- once again, going for a melee build because guns scare me

- how was I able to clear prim with just a machete and the 29 NCR guys across the street just….couldn't???

- I cannot take vulpes seriously. What type of accent is that???? How does he sound and look like a middle schooler while simultaneously being 40???? He is a mystery not made for us mortals to comprehend

- accidentally got jumpscared by Boone’s voice. I can now understand why y'all are attracted to that man

- couldn't figure out how to negotiate with the khans so I just resorted to murder

- why is victor so obviously following me. And why are my only voice options rude to him? Let me be nice to the man that rescued me????

- Veronica!!! My baby!!

- Roni how are you killing person ome with a single punch. Are you ok.

- I do not know how to play caravan.

- I have learned that I also do not know how to play blackjack

- Mr. House making you pay the literal eqivilent of a down payment on a house just to enter new Vegas is so in character that I'm not even mad

- Fisto quest: acquired

- No one told me that the followers are just?? Right in the middle of freeside??? I was so sure they were out in the desert randomly?

- The kings hate my autistic rizz and lack of personal space

- NCR money is so funny to me. Equivalent of when the US just started to try and print more money to save the economy during the thirties. Go girl give us nothing lmao

- yeah ok securitrons are hot I get it now

- the voice acting is truly just. Wow. Makes or breaks that character. Perfect. The amount of psychic damage I get is enough to kill a man. No notes

- slightly unrelated but there is a really old style Coca-Cola truck parked outside the restaurant I live next to and its giving such nuka cola vibes I can't even

- found the little bitch lady that sold me a room and also boones wife. I’ve never hated an old video game lady more than her.

- again, why does access to Vegas cost as much as a house in diamond city????

- what in the goddamn?

- why are the Benny sex dioloauge options like that. It doesn’t matter who’s playing this they would not fucking say that

- Six writing in her pip-boy: Dear Diary, I smothered a man in his sleep today

- Dear diary, I also met a autistic robot who wants me to continue the work of the the guy I just fucked to death

- VULPES JUMPSCARE!!!!

- why does he wear a hat like that?? It’s supposed to go on your head, not ominously hover above it??

- oh yay the NCR wants me too

- Mr house does not sound like how I expected him to

- oh fuck the police have missiles now

- Mr house giving me a whole ass mention and then telling me I can fill it up with my little gay friends is the most in character shit I’ve ever seen. Get this man a pride flag.

- Roni I love you but why did you just imply that victor was also created to be a sexbot for Mr house?????

- I fucking hate the feinds

- why are the gun runners charging me egg prices for a ripper??

- I. Have been searching. For 3 days. To find fisto. The map keeps leading me into random corners of freeside. What.

- I’m so great at hiring prostitutes

- ima take so many pictures for the autism sign man

- followers of the apocalypse save me followers of the apocalypse

opinions on factions so far:

- Mr house is a selfish little weirdo

- Caesar >:(

- NCR seems like their trying to help but are really fucking confused about everything

- yes man???? I need more yes man???

- brotherhood are ok. Just there. Chilling.

- followers are the best. If I wasn’t playing as a woman I’d marry you arcade

- the kings are exactly as you would expect. Such silly goofy guys.

- powder gangers >:(

- great khans seem cool. Got to have the drug dealers on your side.

- theres too much drama between caravan companies. It’s giving the Industrial Revolution. To me.

[aita-blorbos]

[WARNING: Child Injury/Endangerment, alcoholism, animal death, Christianity]

Am I the jerk for lying to my dad? (Sorry for not using the right word, I’m just not comfortable swearing.)

I’ve done everything I can to be a good kid and keep God and my parents proud of me, but I always seem to misunderstand what people try to tell me.

So when my dad wanted to take me on a father-son hunting trip, I thought it was a chance to prove I could be the son my dad wants me to be, but I couldn’t bring myself to shoot anything. All the animals were so cute! I saw bunnies playing with their kids, and a deer came up and licked me on the face. It would’ve been so fun!

… except my dad kept drinking and pressuring me to shoot something. He finally got so frustrated with me that he grabbed the gun from my hands and shot not only the deer, but also someone’s hunting dog. Then he took both of them back to our campsite and ate them, saying if I wanted to eat I should’ve shot something myself.

He was still drinking, and I told him I wasn’t comfortable being around him and guns with him drunk. He started going on a rant that sounded like he was projecting his frustrations onto the booze.

Not knowing what else to do, I shot the liquor bottles so he couldn’t drink anymore, and he got even more mad. He ended up shooting me in the leg and thinking I had shot myself. I was relieved I had ignored him and brought a first aid kit, but the first thing he did was drink all the rubbing alcohol, and… I said I hated him.

He passed out and slept through the night.

While he was sleeping, a bear came to our campsite. He showed more interest in my dad than in me, and I felt bad (and maybe for a brief moment thought maybe I should’ve let my dad get attacked, but it was only a brief moment), but I shot the bear.

Dad slept through the rest of the night and through the next day until the sun started going down.

He didn’t remember anything from the night before. He didn’t even own up to shooting me in the leg. He just said that if he didn’t remember it, it wasn’t his fault.

Then he saw the bear. He begged me to make him proud and tell him that I shot that bear… but I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to be proud of me anymore. I lied and said he shot the bear.

We went home and finally got the doctor to look at my leg. I was in a cast for almost a year, and the doctor said I’ll probably walk with a limp for the rest of my life because it was almost 24 hours before I got medical attention.

I’m… I’m sorry this has gotten longer than a lot of your other submissions, but I… I don’t know what to do. I was raised on “Honor thy Father and Mother”… But what if my father isn’t an honorable man?

So… am I the a- … the jerk for not wanting my dad to be proud of me? For lying so he’s not proud of me?

[very-super-silly]

the outsiders headcanons!! :)

**(spoilers ahead)** + tw about alcohol and smoking

um this is just a big yap about these sillies <3 (kind of on crack, beware)

Darry

corduroy <3

really really really hot showers 

def had a thing going on with paul at one point 

source (musical): “remember that purple madras shirt i gave you? it looked pretty good on you”

“yeah, i do. i use it to clean my toilet twice a week” 

*gets decked and the rumble starts* 

they’re such exes coded bro 😮‍💨

love language is words of affirmation and acts of service (very based off the musical)

bro really needs a hug 😭

he hugs pony and soda all the time tho 

super tight hugs

emerald green is his favorite color

hasn’t drank alcohol since his parents died 

he only ever drank at those soc parties paul invited him to anyways

Ponyboy

basically addicted to pepsi (canon?) 

after johnny and dally died he’d only wear their jackets 

be nice to me - the front bottoms

“We are running, we are running, but you’re a killer. And i’m your best friend. I think it’s unfair, your situation. You say im changing, sorry i didn’t know i had to stay the same” 

lowkey kinda fucked his liver a bit by regularly taking FOUR acetaminophen’s instead of his scrawny ass’s one 

he also highkey has a smoking addiction 😭 (canon??)

he needs to sleep next to someone, whether that be soda, johnny or even darry

otherwise it’s hard for him to sleep, and “the dream” happens more frequently 

he and johnny would hug and stuff all the time

like they’ll just be standing talking to the gang and pony’ll be standing behind johnny hanging with his arms wrapped around his neck, and with his head resting on his shoulder 

johnny and pony sitting in the same booth at the diner and johnny just leans his shoulder on pony’s

im projecting my love language of physical touch smh 😔

platonically or not which ever way you swing pookie

after johnny died he got a tattoo on the inside of his wrist saying stay gold

stick n poke, thanks two-bit

darry doesn’t know

Sodapop

would blow bubbles in all his drinks with straws 

pretty good cook even though darry is usually the one cooking

better at baking

chocolate cake 😍

love language is physical touch 100%

queer (unspecified)

he actually loved sandy, so after he found out she cheated and fucking left him, he kind of stopped being super flirtatious. Just for a bit. And now, he’s not really searching for serious love 

has a small tattoo of a soda bottle on his left arm

thank you two-bit for your weird ass connections (and odd skills)

bro pulled up with the “hey man I know a guy”

the guy was him

Johnny

 Used to have a dog (a terrier of some type) but it either died or his parents gave it away 

likes strawberries 

if a certain chain of events didn’t occur, johnny would wear cherrys hair clips and bows. 

coquette king 

love language is also physical touch

i mean have you seen the movie

loves hershey chocolate

doesn't read the same books pony does, but like sitting with him while he reads (not reading over his shoulder, just like next to him or like in the same room. he prolly sleeps)

has spent so much time at the curtis’ in general it’s more like his home that his actual home

he sleeps over at others peoples houses a lot, or wherever one of the gang is crashing that night tbh

Dallas

he probably has like several thick rings that he wears in place of brass knuckles so the cops can’t arrest him for having them 😭

im looking at you kwp

love language is probably quality time 

i mean he wanted to go to the drive in with johnny and pony

he hates touching people/people touching him

he wouldnt like, die (😨), if someone touched him, I just mean he goes like “brotha eugh” yk

he’d hug johnny tho, like full on, proper tight hug

two-bit: dally you’d do that for me too right 🥺

dally: NO BITCH 😨

lowkey “lights out” by mindless self indulgence coded, but that’s more steves song

Two-bit 

average purple grape enjoyer

the one friend who would find a big stick on the side of the road and keep it

ENGARDE BITCH

love language is gift giving

100% the type of person to buy you flowers

bisexual

canonically the best fighter out of the greasers, however his first instinct isn’t to fight.

confirmed by daryl tofa <3

he's highkey an alcoholic lol

in the book he drinks a lot and renni and daryl tofa also confirmed that lmao

Steve 

 He has like. sharp movements if that makes any sense. kind of aggressive like he’s about to jump you at any moment tbh

love language is quality time and physical touch

source: steve playing cards and stuff with soda

yk what steve and soda had something going on in the movie im ngl 👀

tho in the musical two-bit and soda def had somth 👀👀

only soda can properly hug this man

if anyone he has beef with touches him they leave with a black eye

like first of all, they got beef, and second of all, they have the audacity to touch him and contaminate him with their crusty cooties? nuh uh

Cherry 

Really soft hair 

it’s normally down with a headband, but sometimes she braids it and does stuff with it 

she does bows and clips and stuff

really likes banana ice cream but if anyone asks her she says vanilla is her favorite 

lowk lesbian representation in modern media 🤩

bisexual tho 

ch ch ch ch ch cherry bomb 🍒‼️‼️ (anthem drop??)

definitely has a ginger cat (they’re pookies) <3

gives straight As but she has a couple Bs, B-s

she reads murder mysteries 

Marcia

Macha girlie 

it’s because her theme is green in the musical

im so funny

likes sloths 

romanticizes a lot

really looking for someone who understands her wacky thoughts

loves gossip, but not harmful or hateful gossip

just the tea yk, like “omg, did you see cherrys hair clips the other day?? they were so cute 😊 i love the style she’s going for”

LESBIAN 🔥🔥🗣️💪🗣️💪💪🔥🔥🗣️🗣️

her and two-bit r 🌈 ICONS (bc they’re besties)

rip marcia you would’ve loved chapell roan

Bev

A GIRLS GIRL 🗣️🗣️

trust even tho she was against cherry at the end it’s because all the socs were against cherry 😔

hypes you UP

def matches your freak

has a thing for great white sharks

interested in meteorology 

if you disrespect her, you’re cooked 

i mean did you HEAR daryl tofa in justice for tulsa 😭😭 bro didn’t even do anything

or anyone close to her, you disrespect her friends you better watch out 😨

will crush you with her high heels

“killer queen”-mad tsai, “breakfast”-dove cameron

Melvin

GRANDMA YOU FUCKING MORON I DON’T NEED MONEY I NEED DIMES, DIMES DIMES DIMES MOTHERFUCKING DIMES (canon) 

type of person to unironically say “where my hug at”

he’s a super senior 😭

“did it hurt when you fell from heaven” again, unironically 💀

bro solos all in the rumble change my mind

you can’t

good at digging holes

iykyk

jk I’m not finna gatekeep it’s from melody roses tiktoks about melvin

can pull up with some MEAN eyeliner

prolly hits pose 28 while standing around

drives a red 1961 chevrolet corvette 

should not be allowed to drive (he will probably run you over)

always gets a chocolate milkshake from the local diner 

with whipped cream and a cherry on top

not a headcanon but if melvin has no fans im dead

ok bye, tysm if you read all that 😭

[floral-hex]

BABY WATCH 2024!

First 24 hours with the new kitten. Thought it was a she, but did a closer inspection earlier and I’m leaning towards a he.

Anyway, the good stuff: he is the sweetest, most well behaved kitten I have ever seen. He’s an angel. He spent most of last night sleeping on my chest. I haven’t had such an actively affectionate cat in ages. The two I have now are sweet, but they don’t really cuddle. This little dude does. This little dude is awesome. He follows me around, doesn’t get into things he’s not supposed to, and instantly knew how to use a litter box. If he wasn’t so young, I’d think he was an abandoned indoor cat. But he’s baby. My baby. Still needs a name, though.

The not so good stuff: I DO NOT need another cat! I live in a small apartment with two other adult cats and a small dog. New cats are also expensive! He’s gonna need shots and to get fixed and, to be painfully honest, I really don’t know if I can afford that now. Shit, I’m basically out of (human) food until I can get some cash on friday. It’s rough. I’m really anxious. I love this little guy. I didn’t just pick a random kitten. I’d seen him outside a couple of times and I just… I hated the idea of this way too trusting little guy trying to survive out in the world. He just kept crying out at me and following me. There are other stray cats around, but this one is so small and so sweet and he followed me home and he loves me so much I literally started crying while holding him bc I didn’t want him to ever have to fight just to survive out there. I hate it. I mean, I love him, but it does make me feel kind of sick inside bc I know it’s not exactly a smart decision to take in a stray right now. Life sucks. He’s curled up next to me in bed now and if he wasn’t so tiny and sweet and wonderful, I might be okay not keeping him & letting him stay outside with his friends. I’m glad he’s not a human baby or I’d really be freaking out right now.

Anyway, I’d die for him now so it’s a done deal. My baby now.

[whentherewerebicycles]

oh i am powerfully grumpy today let me list the reasons why to break their hold over me! and then i will list the substantive good things that will counterbalance the grumpiness.

WHY AM I GRUMPY

didn’t sleep well and got up too early (this, as you will see, is probably the root of all other ills)

was pretty cranky with ruthie at 5am because she wouldn’t poop and wanted to just wander around outside & take a little walk instead. which fine but i was so tired and grumpy already haha. and then i always feel like a CRUEL MONSTER after i have spoken to her a bit sharply because she is a sweet little girl and sometimes you just don’t have to poop ok! also sometimes when i have been short with the dogs i am like oh great this is like a two-second glimpse of the lowest setting of sleep-deprived parenthood i bet i am going to handle that GREAT. (you can see here how i was already in that Mood where your crabbiness starts magnetizing all other free-floating crabbiness in the ether towards it)

got a little cranky on the phone with my mom because it felt like she was taking a liiiittle dig at me about the salary cut i’m taking (i don’t think she intentionally was i was just already kind of grumpy and sensitive) 

i am experiencing some lowgrade anxiety about the HSG test tomorrow, partly because i have read that is going to be moderately painful and partly because i am worried it will reveal bigger problems

my lead just straight up stood me up for a meeting today lol... i was on the teams call for 10 min just waiting and then she didn’t respond to any of my messages so i hung up but can’t really wander away from my laptop in case she calls me back... i’ve been just kinda Over It for a while but man it is annoying when she does stuff like this. also lol she did the thing in a meeting yesterday where i offered to review this tiny inconsequential project real quick with my boss and my lead jumped in to be like “to make the best use of [boss]’s time, i think it’s best if i review the content first to ensure everything looks okay” which is code for “i am going to make one formatting change and then schedule a meeting with our boss without inviting you where i imply that your work was so shoddy i had to make MAJOR changes to salvage it.” i was just like sure girl. whatever. enjoy these last few days of getting to powertrip over me. you are so close to being in my rearview mirror forever.

i only have like 1-2 pointless work projects left before my last day (next friday) but they are so pointless and so hazily defined that working on them plunges me into a deep work despair spiral even though i am SO close to being done with this stupid job. i know i need to just pull myself together and finish them but wow. i hate this.

some IRL friend stuff is making me a little bit irritated and i just need to sit down for a minute at some point and decide if/how i want to react to it. it’s genuinely not a big deal it’s just one of those situations where there have been multiple small annoyances that are not exactly anyone’s fault but cumulatively just make me feel a little put-out. however i am aware that if i’d slept 2 more hours last night i might feel totally different about it so i am just bracketing it today.

phew okay. now WHAT ARE SOME OF THE GENUINELY GOOD & MEANINGFUL THINGS IN MY LIFE THAT ARE FILLING ME WITH A SENSE OF GRATITUDE THAT I GET TO BE ALIVE IN THIS WORLD IN THIS MOMENT?

i wrote for 3+ hours this morning and feel really intrigued by the project... not sure if i have a sense of where it’s going yet but it’s been quite a while since i’ve been in that headspace where you wake up and reach blearily for your phone right away because you’re just HUNGRY to review the writing you did the previous night & start working on the new draft. i am very, very much hoping that a change of job and scenery will jumpstart my creativity a bit... i think it’s just challenging to write when literally nothing is happening in your life. you have all this open unstructured time, which means you don’t value any of the time you have (because if you don’t write in THIS empty moment you can always put it off to the next empty moment!), and then you are just sitting at home not experiencing any social or intellectual stimuli so i feel like you don’t get that “lots of ideas sloshing around in my brain... new encounters triggering new ways of looking at or connecting them... back-burner brain stuff simmering while doing other activities” stuff going. ANYWAY this is all to say it feels good to be writing again & feeling excited about writing whether or not this one sticks. i am just happier when i am engaging in the practice of making things even if i am not finishing things.

part of why i started writing again is that i got two extremely long, detailed, thoughtful comments on my last story from another writer that just made me feel so, so good and creatively energized. all comments are soooo good/valued but i feel like there is something extra special about getting that kind of extremely detailed feedback from a talented writer who picks up on why you did certain things and has a very clear sense of the really, really time-intensive revision and redrafting work that goes into weaving multiple layers into a story. i read the comments yesterday and at first was happy but also kind of in a funk about it - like it was SO nice and affirming to receive them but i have also kind of built that story up in my mind to be the best/most fully realized thing i’ve ever written and can sometimes get down on myself feeling like i’ll never be able to top it or even repeat it. but then i read the comments several more times and started thinking about some of the specific scenes or choices the person was highlighting and just remembering how many times i patiently reworked not-great versions of those scenes to just steadily make them better and more effective. and i was just like okay listen. it just takes hard work and time. i have to put in the hard work. i have to invest the time. i have to give up the fantasy that the first version i write (or the second version or the tenth version) is going to be, or should be, perfect. i’m so proud of that polished final work but to get there i had to really keep the draft shitty and unfinished and patchworked-together and rough around the edges so that i could have the flexibility to rearrange things and torpedo what wasn’t working and generate new ideas through new combinations of rough material. so get over yourself and get to work, you idiot, or you really will never make anything again because you’ll have gotten wrapped up in some fantasy of doing things perfectly the very first time. ANYWAY it was a journey haha but those comments got me moving again and it really made me remember again how much i value being part of a creative community where you get to have that kind of engagement with other readers and writers.

i think it’s going to be a stupidly gorgeous day out! and then a stupidly gorgeous next week or two! soooo nice to have nice weather!! spring is here!!! i scrubbed down the deck last night before bed finally and am now just awaiting the delivery of the outdoor rug and side table.

 i had a really, really good catch-up call yesterday afternoon with a former mentee i worked closely with for a few years in my last job. i thought she was probably reaching out to ask about a letter of rec or something but it turned out that she actually just wanted to tell me about how this project she started years ago with me has continued to grow/evolve and has led to these pretty major institutional changes around making caste a protected class at our university. she was just like, ‘i’ve been thinking about you so much all year because everything we’ve been doing is rooted in the research ethos you taught me in that program. and then it just occurred to me that instead of just thinking about you i could reach out to tell you about how much you shaped this work.’ it was just so good to hear from her and so amazing to hear about this stuff she and her co-organizers have been able to achieve in the last couple years!! it made me feel really good/happy (for her but also obviously it’s just nice when people say nice things about your teaching impact!) and i also feel like it kinda lit a fire under me a little bit... like this past year has been so isolating and i think one thing i’ve missed is the way that students’ passionate commitments push YOU to be more engaged in your own life/community and more awake in your own life. i feel like this student in particular always pushed me to be more honest you know... she’s one of those people who is continuously pursuing difficult, important work because she believes it’s the right thing to do and she knows she has the skillset to do it. so i just want to hold onto that feeling you know... like as i begin to become more involved in the life of a campus community again and more connected to students i just want to keep pushing myself out of this period of isolation and into the world to do meaningful work.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

🐱: Do they have pet names for each other, if so what are they? How does their partner feel about their pet name?

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

Pet names- I did answer this one previously, but I like talking about maybe other things I could come up with for them. So Allie is actually in of itself a pet name because Eddie wanted Alejandra to match names with him. They’re that obnoxious PDA couple who want to do stupid matching things, and he started calling her Allie because he didn’t want to call her “Al” for obvious reasons.

I think for Eddie, she doesn’t really shorten his name beyond just plain Eddie. I guess mainly because that is his preferred nickname, so she wouldn’t see any reason to shorten it beyond that. In my story as well, I have a little tidbit where Al Munson would try to shorten Eddie to Ed or Eds to purposefully irritate his son, so Eddie reacts pretty viscerally to it. Because let’s be honest, narcissistic neglectful parents will do shit like that, and I feel like we need to speak on that aspect because I do not want Al Munson to know peace while I write him.

I also just really can’t stand the nickname Eds lmao. 🤣 I’m so sorry to anyone who uses it, but it squicks me so badly and I don’t know why.

Pet question- Technically yes and no. Eddie fell in love with Allie’s childhood mutt named Scruffy, because he’s never had a pet before (he and his uncle are more the trying to keep themselves alive type rather than attempting to keep a pet alive type).

Scruffy loves the shit out of everyone, Eddie included. And because he’s such a lovable rescue dog, that’s now Eddie’s son. However, Allie’s personal crusty white dog Tiffany absolutely hates everyone except Allie, and that includes Eddie. He tries to get along with her but ends up teasing her, and thus because he’s Eddie and acts out of pocket, Tiffany can’t stand him and likes to snap and growl at Eddie. He calls Tiffany the Rat Dog, and he insists that Allie leave Tiffany behind when she moves in with him eventually (but she won’t, Tiffany is her beloved child).

Eddie also loves Allie’s cat, Ripley. Ripley’s a sweet orange girl tabby that is pretty docile. Usually if Eddie spends the night and he sleeps on Allie’s trundle, Ripley will cuddle up next to him. She likes to sleep right by Eddie’s ass and he finds it hilarious. He’s not much of a cat person, but he loves playing with Ripley using a little string or aggressively petting the cat until th erg start swatting at one another. Fun fact: if Ripley would have been a boy cat, Eddie says he would have named the cat Jonesy.

[wordweaver33]

I know she had 15 good years with us. But Lilo deserved to live for a century.

Lilo’s life story actually starts years before she was born. When I was 3, my mom took us to see Balto in the theater. She had no idea that would trigger a Special Interest in dogs for me. So I spent the next 13 years asking my parents for a pet dog (while also reading everything I could get my hands on about dogs).

I was 16 when they decided it was time. I started looking at shelter listings in earnest, and one Saturday we decided to go to the shelter just to look. We were Absolutely Not getting a dog that day, especially since my sister was off on a day trip and couldn’t come with us.

I went in hoping to meet a specific (different) dog, but in the same kennel was a tiny, 10-pound, mostly-black dog, called Coco at the time. My mom thought we should meet her.

The shelter worker brought her out to their meeting area with us. She was so nervous but still wanted to sniff me. From that moment on, there was no other dog for us.

My parents started on the application and the shelter worker told us that she had a stack of applications for this puppy, but as far as she was concerned we could take her home right then. That was our dog.

Since we weren’t expecting to get a dog that day, we had nothing prepared, so the first thing our new puppy did was go straight to the pet store for supplies. She was definitely overwhelmed, but she sat in my arms and went along with everything. At home, we carried her up the front steps and showed her her new house. She promptly claimed it as her own with two gross piles of anxiety poo. My mom and I rolled up our sleeves and started cleaning. She was our dog now, and that was what we signed up for.

It took us a long time to settle on a name, mostly because my sister hated all my suggestions. When we decided, she and I were sitting on the kitchen floor watching our new puppy explore. I said, “Look how curious the puppy is,” quoting the line from Lilo and Stitch.

“What about Stitch?” my sister asked.

“But she’s a girl,” I pointed out.

So we went with Lilo.

Before she got to us, Lilo had a rough go of it. She was about 11-12 weeks old when we got her, but she had spent a week in the shelter and at least a week with a family before that. Really, she was too young to leave her mother and litter, and probably missed out on some crucial developmental steps.

Now, we can never know for sure what happened with that first family, but I’m convinced they abused her. They told the shelter that they were giving her up because they couldn’t take care of her and their baby at the same time (fair, though why would you get her in the first place?). But Lilo had so much anxiety when she first came to us. She was scared of any men taller than my father, and the way she cowered in certain situations told me she had probably been hit.

Lilo’s anxiety never completely went away, but it got a lot better. She soon learned that she was safe with us, that there would always be food and treats, and that we would always give her affection in addition to all the things she needed.

It was probably partly her anxiety that made her so high energy, but a lot of it was genetics. She loved to run so much that sometimes she would slip her leash just so she could sprint down the road. She loved playing and training, and she got the zoomies almost every day. My dad and I even built her an agility jump out of pvc pipe.

Lilo didn’t really show affection the same way other dogs do. She was always an introvert, and often needed time on her own to recharge. But she always wanted to be in the same room with us, and sleep in one of our beds. She always got so excited when any of us came home. She showed us in her own way that she loved us.

She started to slow down when she was around 8. Naps became a higher priority, and she could only hang out with my new puppy for a certain amount of time before she needed a break. But she still loved going for walks and short hikes, and hanging out with us or the next-door neighbors (her best friends).

In the past two years, Lilo started to show her age. She had a scary bout of old dog vestibular disease, and her joints gave her a lot of trouble. She took more naps and was more particular about how she spent her time.

This past weekend, she got too tired. Too overwhelmed. She needed to be carried up and down the stairs again, just like when she was a baby. We scheduled a vet appointment to assess her quality of life. I came and spent the day with her, and she insisted on going to see the next-door neighbors. My mom thinks she was saying goodbye.

The next day, the vet agreed she was ready. All four of us got to hold her and pet her and tell her what a good girl she was as she crossed the rainbow bridge. She wasn’t even anxious at all at the very end.

We gave her a good life. She went from being an anxious, abused puppy to a happy, healthy, well-adjusted dog. But I still wish we could have had more time with her. She was the best dog ever. I hope now she’s running around, taking naps, and waiting to see us again.

Lilo Fallulah

11/18/2008-7/23/2024