#anyway that's enough introspection for tonight

[mizuno-marmalade]

sigh. ethel cain brainrot lately.. cainrot ig.. listened to two children in a motel for the first time last night and. hu o e g h. stop making me think about my childhood challenge !!!!1 im gonna stpo talking before i say something stupid bcus i am extra prone to doing that once my meds wear off lmao.

[mochatune]

I really love your characterization, I feel like you're really true to the source material whenever possible ❤ you're good at making cute moments without sugarcoating the unpleasant parts of characters!

I'm curious.. how would Peter/YB react to the reader confronting him about not actually loving them? Reader having been very accepting of him and having a sort of revelation when his Perfect Boyfriend facade slips. (I mean he'd absolutely just cut his losses and go full murder mode but I think it'd be interesting if he actually had any level of introspection.)

If the goal was to flatter me then it worked, like shit, what a beautiful compliment 😂❤️ I got you rn. There is a lot of ways to interpret this hc so I’m hoping what is written is what you were asking for.

——

- Peter had a lot of red flags you’d had looked past. He was perfect and went above the bar when it came to past men who had entered your life. He remembered your birthday, the anniversaries, even those cheesy days like national hug day and he spared no expense into making it special for you even when there was nothing to celebrate.

- this was honestly a big part in why you were so accommodating when he was less than savory to be around, you yourself are surprised with how much of a pushover you were in the past. Guess it shows just how low the bar is for you.

- things eventually just started connecting as you got to know him. The possessiveness being a big part, it felt like ever since getting to know him your social life sort of…. changed. It suddenly felt like there was less time for the other people you cared about, even your family wasn’t spared when it came to him. Everyone was a challenge for him.

- neither of you really ever really established a relationship, you always thought you two were just really close friends I mean … sure there were some moments where it felt like something more but it wasn’t something you were barely even beginning to consider after past relationships left you feeling drained. You were okay with this sort of situationship for the the time being you just hadn’t noticed how much he had really wanted.

- He was always the guy there for you to talk shit with when you were frustrated or the shoulder to cry on, he was practically your best friend ever since Lucy had passed. You still blamed yourself for everything despite no consecutive reports on the case for months now but hey atleast you had someone to help you grieve and move past the tragedy that had happened at that diner. He was always there for you, he said it himself and had done more then enough to prove it through his actions towards you.

- one day he just changed. It’s like the guy you’ve been building trust with for almost half a year now just turned around and showed you a side he’d been forcing himself to hide from you.

- suddenly seeing those eyes that made you feel like prey, it was weird and quite frankly you didn’t like it. You didn’t like how he was treating you like a piece of meat, like any other guy would. It felt like you were beginning to see him for who he was.

- all a guy had done was catcall you, it wasn’t anything. You ignored it and kept it pushing like you always do but he just couldn’t let it go.

- he didn’t do anything, not while you were watching anyways but you saw that change in demeanor. He’s done it before though it was always a flash of an emotion you could not name, it always intimidated you but never for long as he was back to his same old lovable self.

- he sort of just dumps everything on you, everything he’d been keeping in all those nights working up the nerve at the mere thought of embracing you as more than just a friend. All those times you had cried to him but not because of him, it infuriated him that the relationship he’d been making up in his head since practically forever with you was nothing more than a mere delusion he’d created to cope with never actually being with you. That was going to change. Tonight.

- he knew, he just knew you wanted to be with him as much as he did with you so when you told him you were put off by his behavior and that you did not feel for him even a fraction of what he felt for you, hearing that “you wanted some time away from him” threw him through a loop. Not a pretty one either.

- those eyes again, the ones he has flashed at the man earlier. The ones that had you feeling helpless. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

- it was like a gust of wind when he grabbed you with all his might, a meaty vein pulsing trough his forearm and the eyes of a killer gaping into your soul. A screaming fit paired with it, words along the lines of “why can’t you just accept that you love me” the words of a delusional freak that you know in your bones you should have never even given a single benefit of the doubt. That all this time that gut feeling in back of your mind was true all along.

- you’re in so much distress that it’s all a blur. The over-exertion of your muscles trying to fight back against the agonizing grip of a grown man paired with the ringing in your head from the screams, the wet on your face from the spittle of the man screaming intensely in your face. There’s a thud and suddenly everything is just black.

- you find yourself with a pounding headache and foggy vision bound against a soft surface, most likely a mattress. You try to move but you find your wrist cold from a handcuff keeping you fastened against the bed post. Everything from last night comes back and you’re reliving everything, a panic attack hits you before you calm down again having hope that there may be a way out of this.

- your captor, the person you thought you’d see comes walking in with a slight hop in his step. Almost as if last night never even happened, he has a tray of food. You aren’t sure what it is but you know you want no part in it immediately readying your voice to try and talk your way out of this predicament.

- there’s a stool by the bed your bound to, he sits on it and puts the tray on the bedside table right by your head.

- he tells you good morning in a sickly sweet voice you wish you’d never hear, almost as sickening as the deep purple bruise left on your arm after the mere grip put on you last night.

- you don’t offer a kind response back (who would let’s be honest) but it doesn’t seem like he minds. That flips a switch when the next words fly out of your mouth, almost as if you didn’t even think about who you were talking to before you spoke.

- nasty words continuously come out of your mouth begging him to let you go all the while barking like a chihuahua as if you were trying to hit a nerve. Who could take anyone seriously while they were tied down though?

- he laughs it off, this is why he loves you so much. You have a quality that can’t be copied, your spirit is so pure to him. He can’t help but communicate how much he loves you with a breathy voice and an ethereal stare.

- you’re next words were your biggest mistake, the ones that sealed your fate. You just couldn’t say you loved him back.

- his reaction, it’s not as bad as last night but still terrifying nevertheless. He understands it’s a process in a relationship but to spout such nonsense is enough to rile him up all over again.

- he’s more than offended at being told that he doesn’t really love you and only like the idea of you, you’re more than that to him. You’re essence, the mere presence of you is enough to blow him away. He huffs it away with a smirk, you don’t mean that.

- you’re too weak to fight the cloth clogging your airways, the all to familiar blackness coming back into the corner of your eyes slowly drowning your vision in it as your brain goes numb.

- begging to leave it just won’t work, he knows you really love him and that you want to stay here. You just need time and he’s more than willing to take care of anyone else who seems to think they knows what’s best for you and him.

- just like he did with Lucy.

- overall the guy is fucking delusional, say goodbye to the possibility of him having even a single moment of clarity when it comes to you.

[aventurineswife]

HAIIII

my jazz band (club) was boring bc my bestiest westie wasnt there (THEY DITCHED ME AND WENT HOME WITHOUT TELLING ME)

but anyway, u said to blow up ur inbox with requests or something, so >:3

aventurine (i think u can tell i like him with the fact i put him in every request) and any other characters u want with a reader who plays one or more instruments (this is based off me, i personally play flute, bass guitar, and cymbals, but u can pick whatever instrument(s))

maybe do a scenario where like characters didnt know reader played instruments, and character walks in on reader playing something

could u also make it romantic, please? :3

-:3 anon

Symphony of Surrender

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, March 7th x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Vulnerability, Emotional Healing, Gentle Moments, Inner Struggles, Self-Discovery, Complex Relationships.

Warnings: Minor Emotional Angst, Themes of Trauma (Aventurine's past), Slight Manipulation, Light Romance and Sweet Moments, Minor Character Introspection.

A/N: I'M SORRY WHAT?! 😭 DAMN YOUR BESTIE SHOULD'VE AT LEAST INFORMED YOU THO!!

The soft, melodious notes of a piano drifted through the luxurious, dimly-lit room. Aventurine, dressed in his usual flamboyant attire, had just returned from a late meeting. His mind buzzed with the usual mix of strategy and calculation, but something felt different tonight. The air seemed to hold an unfamiliar tranquility. Curious, he followed the sound of the piano, his footsteps light but purposeful.

As he entered the room, his eyes fell on you—sitting gracefully at the piano, your fingers dancing across the keys with a fluid elegance that struck him silent. The soft glow of the room illuminated the delicate movement of your hands, each note resonating with a raw emotion he had not expected to find in this space.

You didn’t notice him at first, completely absorbed in the music. Aventurine lingered in the doorway, watching you with an intensity he rarely allowed anyone to witness. His usual guarded demeanor faltered for a moment, the mask of charm and bravado slipping as he admired the way the music seemed to flow through you, as if it was part of your very soul.

Finally, you paused, the last note hanging in the air like a whisper. It was then that you turned to find him standing there, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, genuine expression—one of awe.

"Didn't expect to find you here," you said with a teasing smile, your hands resting on the piano keys. "I didn't know you were a fan of music."

Aventurine stepped closer, his earring catching the light. "I appreciate all forms of art," he replied, his voice a mix of amusement and sincerity. "But I must admit, I didn't expect this from you."

You chuckled softly, a playful glint in your eyes. "I guess I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

He walked around the piano, his gaze never leaving you. "I should have known. You're full of mysteries."

Your fingers hovered over the keys again, as if debating whether to continue playing. Aventurine watched you carefully, his eyes intense yet tender. He stepped behind you, leaning in just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence.

"I'd like to hear more," he said quietly, his voice low and almost vulnerable. The usual confidence in his words softened, revealing a hint of something deeper. "But this time... let me join you."

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze flickering to him. Then, with a small nod, you placed your hand on the keys, inviting him into this intimate moment.

As the music resumed, Aventurine found his own rhythm, not in the notes, but in the unspoken connection between you. Each sound was a step closer, each chord a bridge built between the two of you. The game of life was full of risks, but for the first time, Aventurine felt that maybe—just maybe—some risks were worth taking.

The Astral Express hummed with its usual rhythm, but inside your cozy little room, a quiet atmosphere settled. You had been practicing with your bow earlier, but tonight, something called to you—a need to express yourself differently. So, you decided to take a chance. With a deep breath, you reached for the guitar hidden in the corner of the room and began to strum, unsure of the melody that would come.

As your fingers found their way, the sound of the guitar filled the space with warmth. The soft, melancholic tune seemed to escape from you effortlessly, reflecting the longing and curiosity you often felt. You hadn’t played for anyone yet, not here, not on the train. But tonight, you needed to.

Oblivious to the quiet music, March wandered down the hallway, her camera slung over her shoulder. She had been busy capturing moments all day, and now her mind was buzzing with thoughts of her mysterious past. But then she heard it—an unfamiliar sound. She stopped, curious, her eyes wide. The soft notes of a guitar? Was it you?

March, being ever the curious spirit, couldn’t resist. She peeked around the doorframe, her heart racing with excitement and anticipation. There you were, completely absorbed in the music. Your eyes were closed, and your fingers moved across the strings as though it was second nature to you.

She took a small step forward, her breath catching in her throat. It was a side of you she hadn’t seen before. The way the music seemed to flow from your very being, the way your body swayed ever so slightly with the rhythm, captivated her.

You paused mid-strum, sensing someone’s presence, and looked up to find March standing in the doorway. A small blush crept onto her cheeks as she realized she’d been caught.

"You play," she said softly, her voice tinged with awe. "I had no idea."

You smiled warmly, setting the guitar down beside you. "Guess I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve too."

March stepped closer, her playful grin lighting up her face. "You know, I didn’t take you for a musician."

You chuckled, a little embarrassed. "I don't often show it. Just felt like playing tonight."

Her smile softened, her usual bubbly demeanor giving way to something more earnest. "It’s beautiful," she said, her eyes shining. "You really know how to capture a moment, don’t you?"

You nodded, a bit of warmth spreading through you at her compliment. "It’s like photography, in a way. Capturing a feeling, a memory."

March’s eyes sparkled with understanding. "I get that," she said, her gaze flicking to the camera resting on her shoulder. "But with you, it’s more than just a moment. It’s... part of who you are."

Her words lingered in the air, and you felt something shift between you—something deeper than either of you had expected.

Before you could respond, March suddenly grinned mischievously. "Mind if I join you?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden offer. "You play too?"

She winked. "I don't know, but I’ll give it a shot."

With that, she sat beside you, taking a seat with her camera beside her, and together, you found a new rhythm. It wasn’t just about music anymore; it was about the connection between you two, woven through each note, each laugh, and the shared understanding of a journey you were both still figuring out.

As the music played, you realized that this was more than a simple tune—it was the start of something special.

[ternfic]

The Atlantis Expedition

Chapter Twelve: Dust and Shadows

It had been quite a trick to get Business to leave the other room, nearly ending with Metalbeard physically hauling him out. He’d insisted on them letting him at least finish taking pictures first- the walls were covered with texts carved or painted onto them, and he was eager to translate them. “Why don’t ye give that brain of yers a rest?” the captain suggested, looking rather concerned.

“You seriously expect me to be able to sleep when I have something this fascinating to study??” Business protested. “What if there’s clues in here on the temple? I didn’t find much at the last one, you know.”

“…Ye’ve got two hours,” Metalbeard allowed.

“Would you mind doing it in the captain’s cabin?” Emmet asked. “I’m ready to crash.” He emphasized it with a yawn and a stretch.

“Sure,” Business agreed easily, and practically ran back onto the ship to get started.

“I’ll keep watch with you,” Bad Cop told the pirate.

“Ye sure about that, lad?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone forty-eight hours or longer without sleep. I’m pretty well used to it. Besides, I don’t think I can sleep either, not with the threat of those sky pirates out there.”

Metalbeard waited until the rest of their friends had retreated to their cabins for the night before speaking again. “Avoidin’ sleep ain’t the way to go about fixin’ yer nightmare problem.”

“That’s not it,” Bad Cop sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind tonight. I promise.”

“Well, alright then…” Metalbeard didn’t speak again, picking up on his introspective mood, and decided to leave him be.

The dizzy spells were increasing in frequency, but with them were coming back vague bits and pieces of memories, so old he wasn’t certain of the reality of them, but something about his current situation just felt familiar. Like when he and Alastar were just toddlers, still trying to figure out how to switch out with each other. Dizziness had been common then, back when they hadn’t been quite strong enough mentally yet to manage it.

It was unnerving. Good Cop was still gone, he could feel his twin’s absence clearly. So why did it feel like… he might have someone to share headspace with again…?

It was a terrifying, reckless, and stupid idea, but he did it anyway. He closed his eyes and ‘reached’ back into his own mind, searching. Hello? Alastar, please tell me if that’s you…

…hI.

He sucked in a sharp breath, going rigid. It was a good thing Metalbeard had wandered away some time ago; he could not deal with the questions right now, he had too many of his own. Letting out a shaky breath he raked his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his rattled nerves.

He was going to have to speak with Lucy at some point the next day.

Even with two of their toughest keeping watch for the night, between the anticipation of an attack and the excitement of exploring the new temple, no one rested easily. Everyone was up bright and early the next morning, even Benny. Business was still poring over the photos at the breakfast table, scribbling down translations as fast as he could decipher them. “What did you find out?” Benny asked, sitting next to him to peer at his notes.

“That machinery you guys repaired last night? That’s some pretty heavy-duty stuff- it looks like it might cause the entire temple to shuffle and reform its layout, something like a giant Rubik’s cube.”

Emmet’s eyes went wide. “No way, that’s awesome!”

“I also found this.” He opened the photo gallery on his tablet and flicked it to a certain image.

“It just looks like the same carvings that were all over that room,” Lucy said. Wordlessly, Business zoomed in to reveal a cleverly hidden hole.

“It looks like a keyhole!” Unikitty exclaimed. “Maybe that’s what the Thing is for?”

Bad Cop sat at the end of the table, mug of coffee in hand, sipping at it as the others crowded around Business’ notes, only half paying attention to the conversation. “Hey,” Benny said suddenly and he jumped, because what the heck, wasn’t he just at the other end of the table? The astronaut snickered. “I thought spacing out was my thing,” he teased, and Bad Cop scowled at him. “Seriously though, you okay? You’re not falling asleep on us, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“You don’t look fine,” Benny persisted. “In fact you look downright distracted.”

“It can wait, Ben.”

“Well, if you say so…”

“Look,” Bad Cop relented. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was concerned about those sky pirates catching up to us. Let’s just get this temple figured out, and then I’ll talk when we’re on our way to the next, alright?”

Benny grinned, floating upward. “Fair enough. Let’s go!”

Breakfast was hastily finished, and they hurried back into the temple. Lucy took off the chain with the key on it, sliding it in where Business pointed out. As soon as it was in place, something clicked, and she quickly yanked it back out as the door began to slide aside. Almost immediately the entire structure began to shudder, and they hurried through the opened door. Emmet nearly lost his footing when the floor gave a sudden lurch and the room started to slide. “Whoa!”

As soon as the temple settled again, another door opened, showing the way through. Business grinned. “Game on!” he shouted, and ran through the open doorway. The next room had three closed doors, each with a hole that matched Lucy’s key.

“Which one do we pick?” Unikitty asked.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Business answered. “From what I was able to translate, there is no wrong path, just different challenges.”

“Let’s open the one to the left then,” Lucy decided, and unlocked it. They continued on through the temple, every other room having a locked door or a building-related puzzle to solve. Every time they completed a challenge, the temple would reshuffle itself.

“I’m starting to wonder if this is a test of our patience as well,” Bad Cop grumbled. “How long have we been at this now? I lost count.”

“I be gettin’ the feeling we’re nearly done.”

“Guys, look! There it is!” Unikitty shouted as the last door slid open. “We reached the heart of the temple!”

“Oh thank goodness.” It was much like the sealed-off chamber in the first temple, nearly identical in its layout. Unikitty made straight for the magic generator to turn it on, as Business took photos of the script on the walls. She waited until the secret compartment popped open, revealing another key, this one made of stone and copper and rubies. She conjured another chain for it, and Lucy slipped the key onto it.

“You want to take this one, Unikitty?”

“Sure!” she chirped, and Lucy slipped it around her neck. Unikitty struck a pose, grinning, as Business turned his tablet in her direction to get a picture of the key. He chuckled as he turned it around to show her. “Ooh, that’s a good one,” she preened.

Benny floated over when Metalbeard made a sound of frustration. “What is it?”

“These symbols! They’re not makin’ any sense to me! There ought to be a map here, I’ve no idea what this nonsense be!”

The astronaut snickered. “Easy there, captain, we’ll figure it out.”

“I got a picture,” Business offered, holding up his tablet. “I think everyone’s a little frazzled from this gauntlet run right now, we can give it another look in the morning.” Lucy unlocked the door at the opposite side of the room, revealing a spiraling staircase back down to the main chamber. They had barely set foot outside of the temple when they were caught off guard by a sudden blast, and Metalbeard collapsed.

“Not again!” the cyborg captain howled in outrage.

The sky pirates descended en masse, half the crew holding the Master Builders at gunpoint while the other half searched them. Airheart smirked at them. “Fancy meeting you all here,” she drawled. Bad Cop’s fists were clenched, and Unikitty flashed scarlet. She barely managed to refrain from losing her temper; trashing robots was one thing, but she couldn’t afford to cause that kind of damage to living people. “No chair this time, Bad Cop?”

“No one invited you,” Benny growled. “Get lost.”

“Oh we will, just as soon as we have what we came for. Ah! My, those are nice necklaces you have there, ladies. Hope you don’t mind me helping myself.”

Lucy assumed a defensive pose, to a chorus of guns clicking. “We’d mind quite a bit.” Just as she wound up to strike, a shot fired near her foot, and she froze. Those weren’t the lasers that Bad Cop used, that just hurt a lot if one hit you. Those were actual bullets. Airheart smirked at her.

“Now you’re getting the picture,” she said, and snatched the chain from around Lucy’s neck. Unikitty’s was next, and she plucked Business’ tablet from his hands as well, despite his protests. “Thanks for the gifts, darlings, we’ll put them to good use!” She blew them a kiss before once more boarding the Sky Rogue, her crew keeping their guns trained on the Master Builders as they followed.

As soon as they were clear, Unikitty screamed in rage, kicking up sand and stone in her fury. Bad Cop made a beeline for his car, and let out a wordless snarl when it wouldn’t start. Benny pouted when his spaceship yielded the same results. There was no chance of pursuit that time.

Emmet watched helplessly as Benny and Metalbeard sulked, and Bad Cop kicked his chair across the deck. “…What should we do now?”

“Nothin’ we can do but wait,” Metalbeard grumbled. Emmet helped Benny and Bad Cop get Metalbeard seated upright. “Smart lass, using that electro-magnet thing to slow us down rather than an actual cannon.”

“She must know we’re Master Builders,” Lucy guessed. “She would have guessed we’d have the holes patched up quickly enough.”

“My spaceship…” Benny whined, and Bad Cop grumbled in agreement.

“Oh, ease up you two, I’ve got plenty of spare parts to repair them both,” Business waved them off. “I kept them in my EMP-proof case, after Metalbeard mentioned her using it that first time, I thought she might favor that weapon and took precautions.”

“And what good will that do in getting us that tablet back?” Bad Cop snapped. “By the time we’re done, she’ll be long gone!”

“It really is a good thing I was the last one out of the temple.” Business gave him a smug smirk as he slipped his smart phone from his pocket, flipping it up for Bad Cop to see. “The miracle of technology. I have them synched.” He brought up the picture of Unikitty with the key and shoved the device at his former henchman. Bad Cop instinctively grasped it, blinking at it.

“What good is a picture of the key going to do?” he growled after a moment.

“Uh, we’re surrounded by Master Builders. Masters of matter manipulation and creativity? They can just make a replica of it. Duh.”

Said Master Builders stared at him in something rather like awe. “That’s… that’s brilliant, actually,” Lucy said.

Business snorted at that. “I told you this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Bad Cop was silent for a long moment as the idea sank in. He handed the phone back with a soft “thank you, Sir.” Business stared; it was the most civil and respectful the cop had been toward him since Takos Tuesday.

Benny, having perked up at the news that his spaceship could be easily repaired, floated over to put a hand on Bad Cop’s shoulder. “You know, you’ve been awfully tense today, are you alright?” Bad Cop pointedly stared at Business, and Business promptly made himself scarce, muttering something about going to grab his case to get started on those repairs. “Come on man, you promised you’d tell me when we were done with the temple,” Benny reminded him.

“I did, didn’t I,” Bad Cop sighed. “Alright, but let’s grab Lucy first, I’ll need her help to get this sorted out.”

The astronaut looked confused. “Why Lucy?”

“You think I didn’t do my research on you Master Builders?” Bad Cop rolled his eyes. “Vitruvius was a master at delving into mindspaces. Lucy was his best student.”

“Ohh, I see.” Benny frowned. “Wait, you need her to go mindspace-diving?” The frown quickly melted into a look of astonishment. “OH! Does that mean Good Cop’s making a comeback?!” He bounced eagerly.

“…No.”

“What?”

“Lucy first, Ben.”

“Ohh, alright…”

[snarkythewoecrow]

It's technically Wednesday and I started a new WIP tonight!

Definitely been tagged for WIP Wednesday in recent weeks, but haven't had anything, so here you go, and tagging @buckybeardreams, @underwaterninja13, @theotherbuckley

Been struggling to write but got some words down tonight, so here you go. This is BuckTommy, only the first scene (which is sorta a ficlet by itself I guess) Some angst and introspection, and then some soft hurt/comfort will come later in the fic (please forgive typos it's super late and this is a draft)

“Oh, Evan.” His mother never seemed to say his name without a slathering of curdled disappointment, withering came to mind, thinking back now as an adult when he pictured her saying it, the sagging lines where there should have been creases from her smile. 

Neither of his parents had ever been able to say his name without some soured pinch to their lips.

Sometimes even Maddie seemed tired when she’d say it, no matter how much she loved him, not to the degree his parents did, with that trademark exhaustion, but enough to leave him feeling like a wraith for it, as if speaking his name sapped the life from her veins like it did his parents.

And love him or not, Maddie couldn’t fix him—not in the way he needed.

No matter how many band-aids she placed over his broken, bleeding skin, it wasn’t her love that had left his chest an echo chamber. That hollow place had been created for a parents’ love that had never taken root. 

So, he'd left—looking to fill that ache with something—finding a new family with the one-eighteen and starting over with a better name. Because where Evan had been said with a sigh, a grimace, annoyance—Buck could be said with a teasing and playfulness that his old name never could. 

Yet, beneath his skin, Evan had never felt more alone, scared of losing everyone and being forgotten, and so Buck sought comfort in the heat of others, in their skin, changing his shape to be what was wanted, trying to fill the void.

He drank from that well until he nearly drowned in it.

Except that a person, like a house, can’t stand divided—or more directly, ignoring a part of yourself didn’t erase it, nor any of the wounds that made you want to hide it away.

Especially when lightning stops your heart, and you dream of another life—one just a shy step to the left—close but just wrong enough to leave you rattled when you choose life, only to wake to your parents' faces as they say your name. 

That same cadence and tone—the whined note of pity as his mother says for the thousandth time in his life, “Oh, Evan,” somehow still almost sounding disappointed.

Perhaps she always would be—probably internally screaming at the unfairness that Buck had returned from the edge yet again and Daniel never could.  If that weren’t enough for another few years of therapy alone, he didn’t know what would. 

Their near-awkward attempts at caring in the After, how his mother’s voice still thinned across the bridge of his given name, nearly snapping and falling off the other side, reminded him of its wrongness of just how lonely that part of him would always be—a reality where Evan may never be said without pity or contempt.

A house divided—and it might have stayed that way, if one Tommy Kinard hadn’t arrived, looking like a brick shithouse with a sexy cleft, short-circuiting his brain and making him stumble over his own name.

“Buck—Buckley,” Buck had to clear his throat, scrubbing his palm over the pocket of his jeans before shaking Tommy’s hand.

“Your name’s Buck Buckley?” Tommy raised his brows, nose scrunching a bit. “Did your parents really hate you that much?”

Buck hadn’t missed Eddie, hiding his snort of laughter behind a fist, as he pretended to be working on the tailgate. Asshole.

He’d sent a glaring squint in Eddie’s direction, subtly flipping him the bird, then turning back to Tommy. “Uh, actually, somehow I have no doubt they did—or still do—but, um, yeah, anyway.” He rubbed the back of his neck before dropping his hand. “Hi, I’m Evan—um, Evan Buckley—though most people like Buck better.”

And then, Tommy had done something unexpected—his eyes tightened, the soft blue made brighter by the afternoon sun, seeming to search Buck’s own before suddenly turning softer, then crinkling at the corners. “Well, if it’s okay with you,” Tommy said. “I think I’ll stick with Evan—I got a feeling he’s a pretty interesting guy, too.”

[pinkpeccary]

SO they only reposted a couple but after rereading the main one i liked i left a long comment about what specifically i liked about it and how glad i was they reposted

and today they replied to the comment and an hour later reposted the other big fic of theirs i missed- idk if this is directly connected but it might be and regardless i'm so excited again love wins part 2

anyways tell authors when you like things!

back in january the author of a few fics i liked deleted all their works so i subscribed to them in the hopes they'd one day repost and today was that day LOVE WINS

[iguessitsjustme]

Love Sea Ep 4 & 5 Thoughts

Okay. As I’m writing this, I know I’ve been gone from tumblr for at least a week (I was back(ish) a day earlier than expected. Weeeeee) Possibly more. So it’s been a minute since at least episode 4 aired. So I’m lumping it in with my episode 5 watch next week. And if y’all think just because I’m not on tumblr, I’m not liveblogging…well of course I am. My wrist does hurt though so I’m not sure how talkative I’ll be. I am also having a bad brain day and I have had a whole weekend full of absolute shit. And my week is going to be…tiring. I’ll be on a plane, a road trip in a car, and then a train. All in the span of like…4-5 days. Don’t ask. Anyway that will be in the past by the time I post this. Time to watch. As always, liveblog under the cut and will likely have criticism. You’ve been warned before you click:

“Every meeting ends with a farewell” please tell me they aren’t going to try to be deep right now. They have not done nearly enough to build up Rak’s side of feelings for me to believe he’s feeling introspective at leaving this place. He pretty much hated it here for the most part. I could maybe understand if it was Mut since he just apparently immediately fell in love because he believes in love. And believing in love means automatically falling in love with the standoffish guest that you’ve been fucking.

Okay the heart of my issue with Rak and Mut can be perfectly encapsulated in this scene where Rak learns that Mut has a pickup truck. “And did I ever tell you I didn’t have a pickup?” Sir, what you feel for Rak is not love. Because if you actually loved him and cared for him, you would have heard his complaints about the motorcycle and the cargo tricycle and used the pickup truck for him instead. He literally told you the motorcycle hurt him to ride and still you did nothing. Because it means more for you to have this weird sense of superiority over Rak than it does to make sure he’s comfortable and not in literal pain. I had a more caring relationship with my former coworker than this. Because I did something where I thought I was in the right but it was a petty argument and honestly, I could see how much she was hurting from it. So I apologized and I let her know that she was more important to me than being right. And that was for a COWORKER (now friend yay). Mut can’t even manage to do that with someone he supposedly likes romantically.

Why does Rak not get to be upset about this? Mut just immediately shuts it down by saying “let’s not end on a bad note.” Sir, you caused the bad note and made no apologies. Instead you laughed at Rak for daring to want some comfort while having no control over his own life while there. Like seriously. If you caused the pain, you don’t get to dictate when the hurt is done.

And the flashbacks again. Will we get some every damn episode? We’re 4 for 4 now.

Rak baby boy this doesn’t make any sense. Does Mut have a magic dick? I do not understand.

What.

Noisy sidewalk people go AWAY

So Mook is paranoid for her valid concerns about STDs? He should get tested. So should Rak. If memory serves, both sleep around. Mut with guests and Rak when he needs to write smut. And Rak has slept with Mut already. I know they used a condom each time, but he should still get tested too. Seriously. Rak’s wealth and fame won’t protect him from STDs.

Noisy neighbor go AWAY

Man I wish this show would just let Rak be aro without making it about trauma and him just being scared to love.

Am I supposed to care about this random woman at the end? Cause I don’t.

And I feel meh about this episode as well. See you in literally the bullet below for episode 5 but it will be a week for me. Time is weird man. Time is weird.

Time IS weird past Rae. And you were right, it was a tiring week. I’m finally caught up on shows though..sort of. I still might start another show tonight. Or maybe listen to an audiobook. I think I’m gonna return my library book and see if they have it on audiobook. If I thought my wrist hurt last week, that’s nothing compared to today. Mistakes were made on my trip. One was unavoidable and the other was…well I did an exercise and that was a mistake.

Anyway now for episode 5.

Rak should wear his glasses all the time. That is all (speaking of glasses…where did I put mine…)

I had issues with that whole scene but honestly I’m too tired to type them all out. Mut is not as smart as he thinks he is and that’s all I have to say.

Rak, sweetie, the waiter just stood there. You know that. You were there.

I’ve had guys say this to me after I told them I don’t like them. You will never guess the outcome of that.

Absolutely the fuck not. There is no way that any person with a uterus wrote this line. Because what the fuck. Why is it that Mook isn’t allowed to be upset with being sent all over yonder on an errand for someone who is NOT her employer and this is the response to her being upset? Believe it or not, people that have periods can be angry because of the actions of other people and not just because of their period. Yes, PMS is a thing, but it is not the only reason for anger. Who wrote this line? I just want to talk.

Save Mook. Save her.

I hate how Vie perpetuates the horrible stereotypes of women in order to manipulate Mook. It’s awful.

So let me get this straight. Mut…forced Rak to go out to eat with him (even though they could have gotten delivery) and then when they’re shopping and Rak has explicitly stated that he wants to leave, it is a “date” because Mut is interested in Rak and he says so. But Rak has stated he does not like Mut. So the whole thing doesn’t work because Rak DOESN’T WANT TO BE THERE. It’s not a date if they both don’t agree it’s a date. And to Mut, you can’t use Rak’s novels against him. Those are characters in fiction. They don’t represent Rak’s real feelings. I hate Mut. Have I mentioned that? I mean I’m not Rak’s biggest fan either but Mut is just…dumb. Rak should be able to argue against this it’s so dumb.

Most novels don’t have sound?? I mean there are audiobooks but the sound in those is typically just words. Unless it’s different in Thailand? I don’t know. Also maybe this is a translation thing? (This is me after the end of the episode and I get it. He was talking about what the author says the sound effect would be. I admit it, I was dumb here. I don't think it came across quite right in the translation but this is fully on me for being dumb. But also the sound mixing at the end? Do NOT get me started. It was bad and I wanted to die.)

If someone put all of my alcohol and snacks back while I was shopping AND paying for it…I would murder them on the spot. I beg your finest pardon Mut, but let Rak have snacks? The alcohol I’m less pressed about because he does have alcohol at home but the snacks? THE SNACKS? I hope Mut rots in hell. This is The Ultimate Sin to me. *guards my snacks with my life*

If Rak’s skin still looks that good on a diet of alcohol and snacks, then I will eat my hat. Also Mut mind yo business. You ain’t his doctor. C’mere Rak. I’ll give you some snacks.

Save Mook. Save her.

This family drama is so poorly written. I feel bad for the actors who are killing it in this scene. They deserve a better script.

I did not hate the end of that episode. Or the scene in the dressing room. Mut's response to the drama was...he still has some work to do on boundaries but it wasn't bad. He did eventually respect the boundaries and they had some good communication in that dressing room. I don’t like that he had to be screamed at before he left Rak alone, but he didn’t walk to Rak which I was so scared he was gonna do and the show was gonna paint it as romantic.

The preview for next week has me concerned though. I probably won’t like episode 6. But that’s all for this week…and last. My wrist hurts and I need a nap.

[asexualtabris]

Hi! 5 or 12 for the Rook story time prompts?

hiii! Thank you for the ask! And thank you for making such a wonderful list of prompts! I'm doing 12 tonight, though I may do 5 tomorrow 😈

12. Rook making a new friend

Note: This takes place right after Thorne is conscripted. He has shed his slave name, but has not picked a new name to take yet. The is before he transitions, but I use he/him for him anyway. I guess it's Warden origin night 😂 Fennel is based on my cat Jazzy who has wobbly cat syndrome (though Jazzy is a black cat 🐈‍⬛) This got a little introspective, Thorne is adjusting to some major changes in his life.

G | 600 words

"And here's the pantry," said Warden Juliana Krist, waving an arm into the dark room. "You'll be in here a lot, seeing as you're starting on kitchen duty."

A few cats scrabbled out, threading between his legs.

"And there go the Regiment of Ratters." She said with a fond laugh. "They keep us rodent free."

He looked back into the pantry, a shine catching his eye. There was a small gray cat staring at the two of them warily.

"Oh, that's Fennel. He doesn't like most folk." Juliana told him, folding her arms across her chest. "Skittish little bastard. If you're lucky enough to see him walk and not flee, he waddles around like a duck. The other cats knock the shit out of him cuz he can't stand up right, so he hides usually." She shook her head and chuckled. "I'll be damned if he isn't the best hunter out of the lot of them, though."

He continued to watch the small cat, wanting nothing more than to comfort him.

Juliana watched him out of the corner of her eyes for a few silent moments. Finally, she sighed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Well, that's the full tour, then. Welcome to Weisshaupt...." She faltered. He still hadn't given the Wardens a name to use. "We're happy to have you in our ranks."

He stared pointedly at her hand on his shouler and she removed it quickly. "Let's head back up." She turned and headed back towards the stairs but paused and looked back when she realized he wasn't following her.

He stared silently at Fennel, whose eyes were the size of the moon. He squat down and fiddled in his pocket for a bit of dried meat he'd swiped from the kitchen.

"Uh... Elf?" Juliana called.

He flinched but looked over his shoulder.

"Ah, sorry, uh. You?" She tried again, looking a little lost. "Are you coming?"

He shook his head.

"All right...." She shifted her weight awkwardly. "Well, I've shown you where the barracks are. You're to report to the kitchens at dawn."

He turned back to the pantry and Fennel and held out a bit of the meat to the cat. After a few moments Juliana sighed softly and continued up the stairs.

He sat there for a long time. Alternating between tearing little bits of the meat up and placing a bit closer to Fennel. The first time he tried it, Fennel had shied away. Though this last time, the little gray cat didn't move, just stared at him with his big yellow eyes as he made his way back to his spot just outside of the pantry. He sat with his back against the wall and lost himself in thought.

This was home now. He would learn to fight. He would die in service to the continent.

Service.

Would his life ever truly be his own?

A quiet chewing noise brought his out of his reverie and he slowly turned his head to see Fennel chomping at the trail of meat he'd left out. He watched as the cat indeed waddled clumsily toward the next piece, his back legs heavy and cumbersome.

He thought Fennel was adorable and he felt his chest lurch with affection.

When the cat wandered close enough, he slowly held out his hand, offering it to Fennel to sniff. Warily, Fennel wobbled as he sniffed the air, then stepped forward to thoroughly investigate his knuckles with sniffs. When he passed Fennel's test, the cat began to furiously rub his head against his fist.

His lips twitched, the closest he'd come to smiling in years.

[beabnormal24]

Hi, hello, it’s me again here.

So, of course my competitive butt had to take my own comment about Yuki/Alex as a challenge and now I have 12k or more of a draft.

But I don’t know if I’m doing it correctly, I NEED HELP (also mental help, possibly). I was mostly inspired by AJR’s song ‘Turning out’, which I highly recommend because it’s A MASTERPIECE.

The general idea is: Yuki finds a stray puppy during a storm and he brings it to the prt clinic at the ground floor of his apartment complex where Alex has just started working.

They start to get to know each other but Yuki is still nit sure if he actually likes Alex or if he sees him as a best friend, since he’s never cared about actually getting into a relationship so he had never actually looked at the difference between love and in love.

But it’s also a big period of his life because both Charles and Pierre have moved out of the apartment that they used to all (as in Yuki, Pierre and Charles) live in during university because they have started working and have decided to move in either their respective partners.

Charles is already engaged with Carlos (of course there’s Charlos, it’s my fic) and Pierre hints at proposing to George (I don’t know where this ship came from in my mind but I wanted it, so I wrote about it), and Yuki is starting to feel lonely. [also, other side-couples are Sewis and Landoscar]

He has the company of a puppy called Kuri (because it’s Japanese for chestnut, and I imagine Yuki with a poodle with chestnut fur) and Alexander Albon, funny and tall and easygoing but he doesn’t know what it means to him.

So, lots of introspection as it’s common in my fics and fluff because Yalex has to be a comfort ship, sorry. (And I’m also planning on smut, hehe)

Anyway, here is a little snippet, let me know what you think about it (keep in mind that I am NOT British and I do NOT have a beta reader):

—

Karma may be a little fickle tonight, but it certainly pulls him to its side when the heavy rain turns into a light drizzle halfway through his way back to his apartment complex – which isn’t a long journey, per se, but Yuki surely isn’t one to look into a gifted horse’s mouth.

So, by the time he has reached the closed doors of the vet clinic, he is shivering much less than before and the biting cold in his bones has turned into an uncomfortable chill shiver running down his spine from time to time.

What is annoying is the hair plastered down to his eyes dripping wet and the fact that he can’t even try and move a few strands out because his arms are already stuffed full of the sleeping body of a tiny, harmed puppy.

Good God.

The doors stay closed when he finds a sheltered place under the brick's roof of the entrance, but Yuki knows for a fact that Sebastian is never able to leave this place until it’s ten in the evening, because there’s always some animal staying the night after an operation, and he would probably rather close the clinic for good instead of leaving them alone for more than eight hours.

Yuki had never got it, honestly, the sleep and the warm comfort of his bed seems like a much better prospect than staying around sleeping animals in pain, but now that he’s looking at the limp tiny thing in his arms, he may start to understand.

“Sebastian!” he calls out, reaching with his pinky finger to the doorbell. He cries his name a bunch of times, because the rain is starting to fall again and his voice might get covered soon enough, and there’s no way that Yuki is going to wait for him to close everything up – that might take hours, the puppy may be hurting too much by then. “Sebastian, please, it’s an emergency” he must sound like a possessed man, and the lady on the first floor will probably have something to complain about in their next condominium meeting. But she always talks too loudly on her phone on Sunday mornings when Yuki is trying to sleep away a tremendous hangover, so she can honestly go fuck herself – respectfully.

It still takes a few more minutes and a few more desperate calls for the door to open and the dim yellow light of the waiting room to seep on the steps. Yuki slips inside without even waiting for it to open completely, clutching the jacket close to his chest and exhaling deeply through his nose when the warmth of the air-conditioned room finally engulfs him. The puppy sighs against his chest, so it must appreciate the change in temperature, too.

“See, I told you buddy I would get you safe. Yuki always keeps his promises” he says softly, shuffling the bundle of leather closer to his face. The puppy smells pretty bad, a mix of blood and dumpsters rubbish from London neighborhoods, but its tiny eyes are staring back at him all lucid and wide and full of fondness, like it can actually feel love for him, and Yuki can’t even consider the possibility of getting it too far away from his nose.

Yuki may have just fallen in love, too. But it also might be the adrenaline of acting like a freaking hero in a rainstorm when he can barely reach the top cupboard of his kitchen with the help of a stepladder.

But Disney never made a movie about short heroes; he never had a figure to look up to during his childhood.

“Now Sebastian here will take really good care of you, yes? He won’t ever hurt you. Right Seb-” Yuki stops in his tracks when his gaze meets a pair of brown eyes that definitely do not belong to Sebastian, especially with the way he almost has to bend his neck in half to actually look at the face in front of him and not at the expanse of a broad chest hugged by a plain blue polo.

This is not Sebastian’s chest and not Sebastian’s hair and definitely not Sebastian’s lips and definitely definitely not Sebastian’s white coat. Oh.

“You’re not Sebastian” Yuki says dumbly.

Surely enough, there’s a tall lanky guy standing in front of the now closed door, looking only slightly stunned at Yuki’s sudden outburst, like it’s normal to have someone barging inside a vet clinic at half past nine on a Thursday night in the middle of yet another London’s rainy day.

Oh god, but what if this guy is the one who actually barged in? What if Yuki has just uncovered a burglar? But would a burglar open the door for him?

The guy stares at Yuki in silence for two long seconds before he starts patting his abdomen, pretending to check his whole appearance. “Oh, fuck I’m not Sebastian!” the guy exclaims, looking frantically at his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists like he’s trying to make out the shape of them.

Yuki snorts, shaking his head. This guy could never be a burglar even if his life depended on it, it seems. Besides, he might be slim enough to pass through anything, but he’s still too tall to go unnoticed.

“No, I’m not Sebastian” tall guy says, chuckling to himself. “I’m Alex. You almost made me have an existential crisis right then and there.”

“Identity theft is not a joke”

Alex raises an amused eyebrow at him, like he’s trying to make out the space where Yuki fits in his vision, and he smiles, wide and bright with big teeth and all. “You’re a cultured man, Yuki.”

Yuki furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “How do you know my name?” He asks, looking at the puppy in his arms to make sure- oh, right. “Oh”

Alex laughs again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He must have a tendency for it or maybe it’s just Yuki who looks funny in general. A lot of people have told him that in the past and he still doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

“You’re funny” Alex states, like it’s some kind of irrefutable axiom. He clasps his hands, taking a few steps forward to start inspecting the bundle between Yuki’s arms. “I heard there was an emergency.”

Instinctively, Yuki clutches the jacket closer, one finger gently caressing the single dot of white in the middle of the beige fur of his head. The puppy yelps softly, snuggling its little nose towards Yuki’s chest, and his heart swells like a balloon.

“Yeah, I really need Sebastian” Yuki says, “I mean, this little thing is hurt, and it really needs a vet.”

“Well, then, it’s a good coincidence I work here, no?” Alex smiles wide, teeth showing between his lips.

Yuki blinks at him. “Uh, no you don’t?” He says but it sounds more like a question than a statement. But, to be fair, he lives above the place, and he has known everyone around here for ages, he would’ve surely remembered someone as tall as this Alex, with such bright dyed hair and this adorable smile-

“Uh, yes I do?” Alex says back, grinning. “I mean, just since this morning. But officially I work here.”

“I’ve never seen you around. And I live here” Yuki says defensively, trying his very best to show at least a smidge of self-consciousness even though he will probably give up pretty easily if Alex keeps staring at him like this – big eyes, big smile, hair that look incredibly morbid.

He hasn’t seen a new face in a while, more so belonging to a cute guy, and there’s still a beer slowly swimming in his stomach, so he should be justified.

“I moved recently” Alex explains, not giving much information away to satiate Yuki’s curiosity. He arches an eyebrow, finally touching the sides of the jacket hanging from Yuki’s arms. Yuki lets him just because he doesn’t really know what to do anymore, and if the guy is really a vet as he’s claiming to be, then he should trust him more than himself.

It definitely is not because his brain is slowly turning to mush at their proximity.

“Now, let’s see what we have here” Alex says, carefully taking the jacket from his arms.

The puppy goes willingly without even whimpering once, instead snuggling happily as it’s deposited against the chest of a new stranger. Traitor, Yuki thinks, though he would probably react the same in its place.

“Hi little baby. How cute are we? So much” Alex coos gently, caressing with his index finger the same spot Yuki had been gently scraping earlier. The puppy gives another satisfied yelp. “Oh, are we hurt? Poor little thing. But now Alex will take good care of you, alright?”

Yuki just stands there looking at the interaction with his hands to the sides, suddenly feeling too empty after so long of hanging desperately on to the tiny animal. But it’s incredibly adorable and endearing the way Alex keeps comforting it, as if it can actually understand what he’s saying, its tiny tail wiggling against the jacket when he manages to scratch a good spot behind his ears.

The puppy must sense that Alex is a good person, and Yuki may be a little dramatic most of the time, but he probably trusts the puppy more than himself. Especially if it’s about a cute guy talking with a high-pitched voice to an adorable animal in pain.

“Now Alex will take you to the other room and we’ll check everything, yeah?” He looks at Yuki then, eyeing him up and down, probably taking in his conditions.

Only then Yuki realizes what he must look like, with his hair flat over his head, raindrops still sliding down his nose, the simple white T-shirt he had been wearing under the jacket now completely soaked, tight against his chest. His shoes make a weird squelching sound when he takes a step forward, his socks clinging uncomfortably to his toes and his pants scratching against his probably already bruised knees.

Fuck, he wanted to wear them for work, there’s no way he’ll wash them in time.

“Uh, sorry?” He mumbles, painfully aware of the puddle he has formed under his feet. He grips at the hem of his T-shirt, uselessly trying to straighten it out and immediately regretting it when his palms leave sticky red handprints in their wakes. Yeah, no, there’s no way this is recoverable.

Alex doesn’t seem angry about it, and as his gaze falls to the stained fabric, he frowns, concerned.

“It’s the puppy’s” Yuki says, cringing at the feeling of blood against his skin.

Oh God, it’s the puppy’s blood. A puppy’s blood is staining his clothes and his hands and he’s going to puke, isn’t he? Or worse, what if this cute guy thinks he hurt it? What if this cute guy thinks he is an attempted murderer? A murderer of puppies?

Yuki is honestly afraid of his own shadow most of the time, and he still sleeps with his night light on when there’s too many thunders outside, but how can he convince Alex of that without embarrassing himself even further?

To his delight, Alex smiles at him, shaking his head with a twinge of fondness that makes Yuki’s cheeks feel incredibly warm for the way he’s still shivering from the cold. “Come on, then” Alex says, turning around “You can clean up and dry off in front of the radiator.”

Yuki doesn’t have to be told twice.

[reqording]

12/17/23 1:22 am

it's been a long time since I've written. I'm 21 now, and tipsy at a salsa gala. You can definitely find videos if you try, but nothing of me dancing because I've kinda been way too scared to dance.

things have been okay. I passed most of my classes with A's, and if I put proper effort in, I could've passed them all with A's, which is enough for me, honestly.

I keep having romantic feelings on a whim, despite knowing that I'd rather wait to find the thing that is right for me. Sadly, logic doesn't always overwhelm infatuation. Luckily, having no rizz renders it meaningless anyway.

I paid money to be at this gala tonight, and I'm definitely glad I came, even if I am not dancing much. Someone approached me and asked me to help her friend learn to dance, and she said I was amazing. Easy dopamine baby. I'm still a little bit too shy to ask strangers, though.

Just talked to a friend, and he gave me some tips on confidence when dancing, but I'm not sure how much it can do to overwhelm the rustiness I feel when it comes to salsa. Regardless, it was nice to talk to him.

I keep seeing so many beautiful people here, and yet still can't understand the men who spend their time simply looking at women.

maybe when I read this again I'll be in love. Maybe, as a lofty dream, I'll be married to someone that I treasure, and have no need to contemplate these thoughts. And yet, I can't help but think that I will be alone. if between now and that loneliness, someone special does end up reading these words? I guess this is my time to talk to you. Not as the person desperately in love with you, but as the coldly rational person who will inevitably (apparently) fall for you.

please don't break my heart. there's only so much more I can take. That doesn't mean don't tell me if feelings fade or blah blah, just be honest with me and try to be there for me afterward, and I'll be okay.

I guess it probably tells something about me that I'm giving future people tips on how to break up with me gently, but I suppose I'm just a bit of a cynical fellow.

anyway. I've got a night of salsa dancing left before me, assuming I decide to harness it. However, I am having quite a time just pouting and contemplating, so who knows.

I wish I could stop spoiling my days by thinking of love.

I wish I could forget the faith I have in the fact that I will find someone someday, who will warm my arms, my neck, my heart.

I wish I could simply live like there's no tomorrow.

but one day, I hope, someone will read these words. They will be the person I love unequivocally. The person I want to give my whole heart and mind to. And maybe the first person who I show the fullness of myself can't handle it. Maybe you are the second, maybe the third, and yet all I need is for you to hold a genuine love for me, for the things I love and the words I share, and you will be the first in my eyes, the only thing that I can see, the one that I thank endlessly for blinding me, because to have you as my final sight would be an honor above any other.

how pathetic, honestly.

to sit here, pining, as I could be doing something about it. What if the perfect person is here tonight? Lonely and introspecting all the same?

alas, I am pathetic, so I suppose I will never know.

[aquarianlights]

Wow, hugs. I didn't mean to make you go that introspective, but I hope it helped you! I want you to know that I'm proud of who you are and the person you've become. Your posts bring a smile to my face like nothing else. I'm damn happy that you exist! Maybe you the person you are today needs to forgive the person you used to be. Not excuse it, but at the same time, not feel the guilt that you have for so long.

Oh. No worries! I am almost always that introspective. Haha. That's just me 24/7. A lot of people find me too serious tbh. 😅

You're so sweet and so kind. But, no. I absolutely deserve to feel the guilt for what I did. Frankly, I deserve to be punished, but I got away without anyone realizing I did the thing. And I couldn't speak up coz I wasn't in my right mind until months upon months later when I was finally out of there and away from that place and a person there. And I just sort of... never did. We weren't on talking terms anymore and I haven't spoken to them since. It is the only relationship in my life that has ever ended disastrously. Friends, family, romantic, etc. First and so far the last. So we respected each others wishes and didn't speak. I wouldn't know how to tell them anyways coz it wouldn't be just one person I'd be telling... and it would bring up so much grief and anger. And possibly put me in jail, but I'm honestly not sure about that one, whether there's actual laws surrounding what I did or not. I *think* there are but I haven't seen them enacted on anyone before so idk. But I'm sure they would come after me and they would have every right to. I deserve to feel guilty and awful for what I did and I won't ever forgive myself and that's how it should be. That's what is morally and ethically right. I need to think of it every day, at least once, until I die in order to respect the one involved that didn't deserve to be involved. The one that was innocent and got caught between a really complicated situation that I didn't know was happening to me at the time. I need it to repent, too. Not in a religious way coz fuck religion and all those cults. But repent as in absorb the pain I caused an individual for something that wasn't their fault and didn't even have anything to do with them.

There's so much more, but you get the gist. It's just what is right when you do something so terrible that you can't even say it aloud to anyone.

But your words mean so much to me. They really do. And I appreciate you so much. Thank you. Your words are like a warm hug right now and it is srsly much needed tonight. It's 1am where I am right now and I can't thank you enough for this. I hope you're having a wonferful day/night. And a wonderful life. I'm thankful you're alive and here, too. 💙

[officerwhitmore]

Vince shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling the familiar ache in his knees from a day spent sitting in a cramped vehicle for too long. The gravel beneath his boots crunched softly, and he allowed his gaze to wander over Anthony’s face as he relaxed. Vince could practically see the tension drain from the man’s body the moment the words ‘verbal warning’ left his mouth. His shoulders, which had been held tight with worry, dropped, and there was a new ease in the way he sat in the driver’s seat, like someone who’d been holding his breath for far too long and was finally able to exhale.

That kind of relief—the kind that came when a man realized he’d dodged a bullet—was something Vince was all too familiar with. He’d been on both sides of that feeling more times than he could count. Part of him hated that he had the power to instill that kind of fear in people, to make them tense up just because he wore a uniform. He didn’t want to be that kind of cop, but the job had a way of putting distance between him and the people he dealt with. Today, though, with Anthony, things felt different. Maybe it was the way the guy had smiled at him, or maybe it was the laugh they’d shared over the Jesús joke, but something about the whole encounter felt… good.

Vince let himself relax, smiling softly as he listened to him talk about Texas. He could admire the accent more openly now, that soft drawl that felt like a melody winding its way through the man’s words. Vince couldn’t help but smile wider. It was a little infectious, that accent, the way it lingered on certain vowels, giving everything Anthony said a warm, easygoing rhythm.

“Yeah, man, it’s definitely obvious,” Vince said, his tone dropping into something more conversational, maybe even a little too relaxed. “I mean, that accent? Come on. Bet it works wonders on… people.” A flicker of nerves stirred in his chest amidst the playfulness, and Vince immediately found himself second-guessing the words. The slight adjustment in phrasing had been deliberate—too deliberate, maybe—but he couldn’t help it. God, he hoped it didn’t sound too obvious. But then again, maybe he did. Maybe he wanted it to be obvious, just enough to see if Tony would catch it. “If I had an accent like that, I’d be milking it for all it’s worth.”

He let out a short breath, the cool evening air doing little to dispel the heat he suddenly felt creeping up the back of his neck. Vince shifted his weight again, this time leaning more on his left leg, trying to find a comfortable stance, both physically and emotionally.

“I knew a couple of guys from Texas back in my hometown,” he continued, his gaze drifting for a moment as he spoke, as though he could see those memories playing out in the distance. “They all moved up north, thought they’d make it big in the city. Didn’t really work out for them, though.” His voice grew quieter, almost introspective, and he felt a pang of something—regret? Sadness? He wasn’t sure—curling in his chest. He rarely talked about Chicago, not anymore, and he hadn’t planned on bringing it up tonight.

But it was hard not to think about it, standing here in the twilight, talking to a guy who seemed just as adrift as he felt sometimes. Vince quickly cleared his throat, as if he could physically push the memories aside. He didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to make things more personal between them than they had to be—which was rich considering he’d snuck his number under the man’s license in the hopes that he’d reach out and…

Well, he really hadn’t thought that far ahead, actually.

“Anyway,” Vince said, straightening up and flashing another smile, this one a bit more deliberate, a little forced as he tried to redirect the energy between them. “You’re welcome for not giving you a ticket. Seriously. Those things are a pain in the ass to deal with, and if I can avoid putting someone through that kind of hassle, I will. As long as you’re not, you know, endangering people or something.”

Tony’s mention of smelling like fryer oil broke through Vince’s thoughts, and he let out a snort of laughter, the sound rough and unpolished but sincere. He glanced down at his own uniform, catching a whiff of sweat and the faintest hint of stale coffee clinging to the fabric. He’d been on the job long enough to know that every profession had its own scent, and after a while, you just stopped noticing it. Still, he couldn’t help but tease.

“Oh, stop,” Vince said, his tone light, playful again as he waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you smell like roses and blueberry muffins.” He flashed a grin, letting the humor hang in the air for a moment before he gestured to the documents still in his hand. “Now, take your documents, okay? My arm’s gonna fall off holding them out like this, and if I don’t have enough hands to play Mortal Kombat, my kid’s gonna put me in a home.”

Vince wiggled his hand a bit, making the documents shake. “Plus, that’s the hand I use to…” He let the sentence trail off, a slow, playful grin spreading across his lips. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes now, a spark of that irreverent side of himself that rarely managed to surface during bad weeks like this. “Well, it’s my favorite hand.”

The joke was stupid, juvenile even, the kind of joke Stella would hate him for. Something about that last fact made him burst out into a quiet, wheezy fit of laughter he could hardly contain, and he shook his head at his own behavior, barely managing to keep the documents steady.

Tapping his fingers against the outside of his door to a tuneless beat, Tony rested his head back against the headrest and stared off into the distance. He was so damn close to making it home; he could have avoided being pulled over if the cop had been less attentive. Or not there at all. Or, yes, if he hadn’t been speeding, but that was beside the point.

That attentive cop, though, was now occupying his mind. It was better than dwelling on the financial pain this was going to cause him, at least, but he wasn’t really sure what to do about the directions his mind was taking things. The way the cop had managed to try and make a joke despite the fact he looked like he was falling apart at the seams — one harsh word away from eating lead — stood out in his mind. That smile he saw at the diner was utterly captivating, if he was being honest with himself. A wide, genuine, unashamed smile. But this was the complete opposite of what he’d seen behind the metal kitchen counter. This was a man whose smile screamed ‘help me.’ He didn’t know what all was wrong, but surely a fight with his spouse could have done that easily.

Despite the fact the cop clearly had a spouse, despite the fact he seemed to be in the thick of a shitty life, and even despite the fact he was a cop, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about that smile and his kind words. He swore the guy had flirted with him. That wasn’t just southern charm, not up here from a local cop, not like that. He swore it. But was he reading into it too much? Jumping to conclusions that his lonely, unhappy heart was wanting to see instead of objective reality?

It hit him then just how damn lonely he’d been. Whenever the stress and the fear of the reality of his situation faded into the background enough to feel anything else, it was often loneliness that reared its ugly head. Yes, sometimes it was anger or defeat or despondency, but often loneliness. He was confident he was over his breakup and over the end of whatever kind of relationship you might call his organization (Professional? Friendship? God knows what to even call all that), but what he had not gotten over was the silence that now filled his life.

It was one of the reasons he liked the diner. There were always people around, always talking. Even if he wasn’t actually part of the conversation, he could pretend he was, and he didn’t feel so alone. The number of times he silently participated in his mind in an overheard conversation should have probably worried him, but it didn’t. Going home to a silent, empty apartment was torture. It’s why he kept the television on, sometimes even while he slept. Anything to not feel the way he felt.

Sighing, Tony rubbed his face, dropping his hand back onto the top of the steering wheel, draped over it at the wrist, when he heard gravel crunching closer to him. All at once, his window was once more filled by the cop.

“Ayup, that’d be me.” He flashed the cop a smile, doing his best to play his assigned role of Anthony Castile, upstanding citizen with a nearly-empty bank account. Only one of those two things was actually true. “Not Jesus, but I did grow up knowing a few guys named Jesús.” He pronounced the name the Spanish way the second time, chuckling as the cop laughed.

When the cop announced he was letting him off with a verbal warning, he audibly exhaled and relaxed. Shoulders loosening up and dropping, he leaned forward a bit before straightening himself back up again. He was about to thank the man when he mentioned pretty privilege. Whatever comment he was about to make died on his tongue. This cop was definitely flirting with him, and now his brain couldn’t come up with the right combination of words to say for a moment.

“Oh no, I’m definitely going to remember you said that, officer. Gotta get that ego boost somewhere, somehow, you know?” He curled a hand around his steering wheel as he laughed, though the cop’s question caught him off-guard.

“Oh, y’know, Texas born and raised, moved to Washington when I was seventeen. It’s that obvious, huh? Guess it don’t matter how long I’ve lived here. I’m sure there’s a joke to be made about how you can take a man out of Texas, but can’t take the Texas out of a man. Or something.” God, was it ever a relief he wasn’t getting a ticket — and now with that worry out of the way, he felt like he could actually enjoy being able to flirt with the cop. As messed up as that was. It was a Goddamn traffic stop. He shouldn’t be enjoying it. But he was.

Tony let go of his steering wheel and ran that hand through his hair, tugging a few stray strands away from his forehead. “Thanks for not giving me a ticket. I appreciate it. Really mean it, too — those things are expensive. I was—” He faltered, not really sure he wanted to say what was going to come next. ‘I wasn’t sure how I’d pay it and eat at the same time.’“...Just looking forward to getting home. Long day and all. And I smell like a deep fryer. So, sorry if you’re down-wind, standing there.” He offered Vince a grin, hoping to return a smile to that cop’s face even after what he’d seen earlier.

[recreatedxmemories]

[babiesafezone]

putting this here bc too many ppl I know irl follow my main but like. it’s such a strange feeling to realize that the way you approach relationships has changed. Like I have no idea when my fantasizing went from “I want to be cute and innocent and good for them” to “I want to hold them and protect them and make them blush” but apparently that happened at some point

[kushielsmercy]

Happy Thursday folks, we've almost made it. Have a small stand-alone snippit from a fic I started this summer and finally admitted I'm never coming back to. Sorry Joe, you're staying kidnapped.

***

“Enough, enough!” Nile laughingly pounds on Nicky’s back, dizzy. “Put me down!” 

Nicky tightens his grip and spins them around twice more, faster, before giving in to her pleas and depositing her back onto the ground. Nile groans and falls onto her back, the Oregon sky spinning above her. 

“Gotta work on your sea legs, kid,” Andy calls from across the fire, cackling. 

Nicky turns on her, eyes twinkling. “Bella.’ 

“Don’t you dare,” Andy warns, holding her bottle of whiskey up in defense. She’s too late. Nicky swoops in, stooping to grab her thighs and lift her straight up, twirling in a circle. Andy does her best to look dignified, resting the whiskey on top of Nicky's head, waiting him out. He tilts his head back and she breaks, laughing as she pours liquor into his open mouth. 

Joe appears above Nile, blocking out the night’s sky. He grins down at her, glitter raining down from his hair. “You can’t be done already, this is your holiday.” She refuses to sit up just yet, but makes a grabby motion upwards to appease him. He obligingly passes a half-burnt sparkler over and then taps his against hers in a mock toast. 

“I still feel kind of weird celebrating,” she admits as Joe sits down beside her, watching Andy try to kick Nicky’s feet out from under him to steal back her cigarette. 

He hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “You’ll have many years to contemplate. But who knows when you’ll see that again,” he nods to where Nicky and Andy have come to a compromise, Andy riding piggyback while she holds the cigarette to his lips.

Nile snorts, sitting up and motioning for the last sparkler. Nicky had shot off the last real firework hours earlier with childlike glee.

“I guess it is July 16th anyway,” she says, “we could be celebrating anything. Fuck it. I’m celebrating electricity.” 

They’ve spent the last three months infiltrating a cult with known ties to a particularly nasty trafficking ring. Nicky and Andy were on the inside, trying to figure out where the money was coming from, while Joe and Nile had camped out in a shack a few miles away, listening to the others spit some particularly inventive slurs over the comms while they worked out the supply lines. 

Point being, Nile’s not feeling real patriotic. But they passed a run-down stand a few miles back advertising 75% O f all Fire orks!, the f and w lost to time, and Nicky had insisted they stop - the man’s never met an explosive he didn’t like. It’s close enough to the solstice that Andy had her annual itch to get blacked out next to a dangerously high fire, so, here they are. Celebrating something that isn’t quite the Fourth of July, but isn’t exactly not the Fourth of July either, existing in a liminal space between Nile’s waning national allegiances and a desperate homesickness ten years hasn’t been enough to shake. 

Joe, ever good at reading a room, lets the moment pass unremarked. He’s the best at that. Nicky gets caught off-guard by his own introspection, going suddenly quiet for days at a time. Andy doesn’t have much patience for the whole thing, she figures if she doesn’t know herself at this point then it’s all a lost cause anyway. Joe, on the other hand, thinks clearly, deeply, and at his own pace. Meaning he’ll probably have a lot to say on the complexities of celebrating problematic holidays a month from now, but that’s not going to stop him from making heart eyes at Nicky tonight. 

Nicky makes a grab for the last of the whiskey and Andy dodges, yanking all of her weight to the left so that they collapse to the ground together, rolling out of the fall. She springs up and gets a foot on Nicky’s chest, hamming it up as she downs the last of the bottle in victory. 

“My love, avenge me!” Nicky mimes dying, doing an appallingly poor job despite all his experience.

“Ah, but then who would carry on your memory?” Joe laments. 

Nile knocks her shoulder against his. “Looks like we’ve found the limits of your love at last,” she tells Nicky. “It was that gas station coffee.” 

Joe nods solemnly. “I can still feel its poison in my veins.” He lifts a hand shakily. “Even now, I’m too frail to walk.” 

Nicky bats Andy’s leg away, moving to stand up with the single-minded focus of the very drunk. “Good. Then it will be less work for me to get you on your back.” He struggles to get himself upright, which doesn’t bode well for his luck standing up anything else. 

Nile gags out of principle. By this point she’s all but immune to finding the two of them on any surface, at any time of the day, but she tries to remember she’s supposed to be offended at least once a week. 

Nicky collapses onto the ground beside them, rolling over to put his head on Joe’s lap. “I’ve missed you,” he says. 

Joe runs his fingers through Nicky’s hair. “And I, you.” 

These days, Nile knows that if she wakes first up and tastes rain, she should make sure Nicky has lemongrass tea. She knows Joe has never kept a pair of matching socks for more than a week but hates when one gets a hole in its heel, and that Andy loves cosmopolitans more than she will ever admit. She knows these people inside and out, but then occasionally they’ll do the most mundane shit and it’ll sneak up and hit her all again how long nine-hundred years really is. 

“Don’t you ever worry you’ll get tired of each other?” Nile asks absently, mostly joking. 

Nicky squints up at her, blinking through the alcohol. He pokes Joe in the chest. “She’s not making any sense.” 

Joe flicks his ear in admonishment. “Stop teasing her.” 

“No no, I’m serious,” Nile says, realizing as she says it that she is. Also possibly more drunk than she thought. “Like, what happens if you break up one day. How would that even work? I know you guys have the most epic romance in all of history, or whatever, but what happens if that ends? Am I going to have to swap weekends?”

“What’s romance have to do with it?” Nicky asks, propping himself up onto one elbow. 

Joe groans. “See what you’ve done?” 

Nicky hushes him. “I do not - choose - Joe. Choice is irrelevant.” 

Nile looks to Joe, who shrugs. “The last time I tried to remember my wife, some years ago, she ended up having Nicky eyes, his face,” he reaches down playfully, “his cock.” 

Nicky grinds up into his touch, relaxed and unashamed. 

“I am right here.” Nile pretends to shield her eyes.

Nicky makes a dismissive noise. “I would burn the world to the ground for Joe, and it would be an act of self-defense.” 

Joe makes a wounded noise then ducks down, pulling Nicky’s up to meet him halfway. Nile’s seen this show before, too much of this show before, and knows that’s her cue to leave. Or, in this case, wander the twenty feet away to where Andy’s set herself up with ‘smores. 

“They’ll fall asleep soon.” Andy passes her a sharpened stick with a marshmallow already speared. 

Nile shrugs. “It’s sweet, in a very X-rated kind of way.” She watches the marshmallow slowly brown, keeping her eyes carefully on the fire. “I just, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get something like that, you know?” 

“I don’t have a damn clue,” Andy says, reassuring as always. “But the world’s probably safer if you don’t.” 

[mateoangelortegarivera]

Mateo had been informed that tonight would be, to quote a friend, 'hell,' but he still didn't really know what that meant exactly. He'd had his wisdom teeth removed and his appendix, so maybe it would be something like that. What he knew for sure was that he was supposed to turn into a wolf, and he knew he was coming to meet the Head Wolf before it all went down that night. Jogging down the path, he greeted the alpha with a high-five and an immediate hug. "You must be the alpha man! Very cool. You're like my boss now, right?" Mateo nodded, grinning, and held up his camera in one hand, the tripod tucked under his arm. "No, no, it's okay. I won't need hands." He set down the tripod and as he set it up, explained, "This baby's been with me from the beginning, since I was recording in my closet, you know? She's seen it all." The camera was dented and didn't always work the best, and he certainly had enough money these days to get a new one. Truth be told, he did have a new, had a whole camera man, sometimes camera crew depending on the project, but coming to Lunar Cove to visit his friend before all this crazy wolf stuff happened had been a personal project. "Left Diego back in LA. Homey is the best cameraman out there, crazy skilled, but this was a solo trip, you know? A man and his camera. Real introspective like. Anyway--" he stood up straight, the camera set up now on its stand and put both his hands in the air like he was being arrested. "Hands free." He clapped his hands together. "I bought rip-away pants, and I brought bug spray in case there's fleas. And I've been thinking about my wolf name. What do you think of Mat-Wolf-eo?"

closed starter for @mateoangelortegarivera​ where: not far from the Den when: night of the full moon

To say Nico had been alarmed to hear about a newly bitten wolf was an understatement. Of course, he knew statistically, it was bound to happen sometime under his watch, accidents happened—but the timing really couldn’t have been worse. Add to that, the flurry of gossip about the new wolf in question. Hearing terms like "liability," "youtuber," and "bro" (with emphasis that implied a special intensity), Nico wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to deal with this. Comforting someone who was entering a world they knew nothing about was at least familiar, but usually that person didn't have the potential to then impart worldview-shattering knowledge on millions of strangers on the internet. He was still mulling over how he might gently deal with that, when he heard his name called by one of the wolves coming back from patrol. Nico abandoned the food on his plate to head down the path and meet their new arrival. He was cheerful as he rounded the bend and spotted him at the trail head, raising a hand in greeting. "Hey! You must be Mateo—" Nico slowed, and took in the equipment and tripod, before looking to the man carrying them. "Oh. You really... You brought a camera..." After a brief pause, he added softly, almost apologetically, "You know you're not going to have hands soon, right? Someone should've explained that..."