#anyway. ruminations on my own fic lmao.

[lunar-years]

Realistically I do not think Roy actually proposed to Keeley in the canon timeline but I do think there’s a non-zero chance he had a ring.

[sessakag]

I just wanna say that I absolutely LOVE Butterfly. It’s kinda the only fanfic I care about at the moment lmao I am LOCKED IN. The story itself is great, all of the characters (even the ones everyone hate rn) are interesting, the writing is phenomenal…I could go on and on.

I have a few thoughts I wanted to get out of my head. These aren’t suggestions (cuz it’s your story and I trust where you’re gonna take it), it’s moreso just kinda be me rambling lol:

Sasuke- I know you’ve mentioned he’s going to show up again later, but I’m so anxious to see the role he’s going to play. I don’t really want it to be a romantic thing with Hinata (I am a firm NaruHina lover lol) but I would love to see him be some kind of a protective friend for her? In my head he and Hinata already know each other; like they had some type of group therapy for traumatized teens or after she was removed from her dad’s care she was temporarily in a group home where she met Sasuke and they got to know each other idk. He knows her story and the pain she deals with, and is able to relate in a sense. So he doesn’t want to see her be taken advantage of. Idk, again this is NOT a suggestion lmao just rambling.

Strength- I would argue that Hinata’s the strongest character in the story so far. Even stronger than Naruto. She’s been thru absolute hell and suffers with severe anxiety and depression. The fact she struggles with suicidal ideations and is still making the choice to live is a testament to her strength. I hope that as the story progresses, Hinata starts to recognize that in herself.

Naruto- love the way you write Naruto in this; the chapters in his pov are some of favorites tbh. As someone mentioned before, I too would love to get a few jealous Naruto scenes. Especially since he’s starting to actually *see* Hinata and recognize his attraction to her. I’m assuming that as the story progresses, Hinata will grow into her own person and become somewhat independent of Naruto (like getting her own friends); is that something Naruto might feel threatened by? Since he does have a selfish streak and is immature, I wonder if he would have an issue with keeping Hinata all to himself.

I think those were the main ramblings I had. Chapter 8 is my absolute favorite so far cuz of the cute NaruHina moment we got. I know smut is probably a ways away but I cannot WAIT till we get to it cuz you are one of my favorite smut writers tbh. Anyways that’s all for now. Can’t wait to see what you have in store for us!

Thank you so much! 🙈💕💗so so so happy you're enjoy the fic that much 💕makes my heart do cartwheelssss 🏃🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️💗☺️🫶🏽 and thank you so much for dropping love in my inbox, I absolutely adore you all that do I swear 🥹

Ahhhh, you have some really interesting ruminations🙈

Sasuke- Surprisingly a lot of readers have been waiting to see how Sasuke fits into all this🤭I've gotten some incredibly creative scenarios and prediction from commenters and anons that I've actually added to his role and even moved his entrance up in the timeline😄This is a very interesting scenario and I really, really like it a lot! So many people really want a protective friend Sasuke and I can't say the idea isn't unbearably adorable 💕

Strength- You hit the nail on the head for sure🫡💕Hinata's inner strength is one that's often overlooked, underestimated and underappreciated when compare to more overt forms of strength, or socially constructed ideals of what it means to be strong, and I've really, really been wanting to make a point in the world of fanfiction, specifically the Naruto fandom of fanfiction, that strength is not always aggression, violence and bitchy attitude 🤦🏽‍♀️ because I've seen, for years now, this narrow, short sighted standard of who is strong and who is weak being perpetrated and it's always, always bothered the crap out of me 😤With Butterfly, I'm hoping to open minds and break molds we've been taught to believe are absolute👎🏽but are actually highly subjective👈🏽 I swear, so many of my fics are 'break the mold' type fics, lol, I think I just like to nay say the nay sayers, ya know, shine light on areas and topics that many may make negative assertions and toxic assumptions about while in reality, know very little about the subject matter at all. I think it opens the door for more compassion, understanding and inclusion ️🫶🏽 and honestly, that's what I'm all about.

Naruto- I love, love, love me a Naruto POV 🙈idk what it is about Naruto in particular since I love most make POV but it is soooo much fun being in his head 🤭Butterfly!Naruto and Prey!Naruto are two of my fave Naruto POV's to write in, both are so much fun in different ways 😄For sure Naruto's gonna have his jealousy moments, he's too hot headed and selfish in Butterfly not to🤭Its definitely not out of the realm of possibility that he'll feel some type of way about not being the center of her attention🤔right now, he's the golden boy, he's got the coveted place at her side, he's got exclusive access nobody else has, losing that, well, he might not be too keen on it🤭although, he's been trying to introduce her to his friends and help her with her speech problems, so maybe he'll take it as a source of pride that he's help her find her confidence🤔that's why I love this Naruto 🤭he really can go either way. Like, on one hand, he can be sweeter than cotton candy, some real tooth rotting sweetness, but on the other hand he can be a selfish asshole making scummy choices just to get what he wants😅he gets tunnel vision, and the only thing that matters is reaching his goals by any means necessary. He's just a really fun character🤭

I super duper appreciate you leaving your ramblings here!! I enjoy each and every one of them! Chapter 8 is near and dear to me too!! I enjoyed writing it so, so much, the cuteness almost melted my laptop 🙈💕 I cannot wait to do more sweet bonding scenes for them ️🫶🏽 that's honestly why my fanfics be so long, I get so caught up in just enjoying and marinating in NaruHina love 🙌🏽its like a virus I never wanna get rid of 😫 Smut is indeed a ways off, but I can't wait to get to it too 🙈 and tys, I'm honored to be one of your faves💕 Thank you, thank you for dropping by!!! I really loved seeing your ramblings! 🫶🏽

[memberment]

Good evening

Guys I just got home from work and proofread everything I needed to including this next Dandelion chapter and I'm trying so hard not to just fucking SOB over it.

I hate it here I want out LMFAOOOOOOO THIS IS SO SAD WHY DID I WRITE THIS FR

10:59 update......

I'm thinking about an absolutely diabolical twist for the Trin series(it doesn't actually change the story in any way, if anything it actually makes it make so much more sense). Like, I've been ruminating on it since last night but idk if it's gonna throw people off. But at the same time like part twos and threes never do as good anyways so do I really even care?? Like, I'm just out here telling stories in fanfic font bc I would rather throw myself in the street than make OCs and not share my fun little stories.

I think I may commit to it.

I don't wanna say it on here though bc it's one of those plot twists you get will not forget even though part three is like FOREVER out.

The more I think about it the more I wanna do it. Someone tell me I should do it.

Oh my god I am shutting up and finishing reading Dandelion, y'all will hear my virtual screams in approximately one and a half business hours.

(11:43) I'm actually fucking sobbing and I didn't even start the last few chapters. Like, I'm actually crying over this. It's not funny.

(12:00) Never by mag lo coming on while I'm finishing up reading this is not funny. I'm devastated. I hope you all hate me after this oh my god I feel like I just ruined my own life. WHY IS IT SO MUCH WORSE AFTER BEING DONE WITH THIS FIC FOR ALMOST TWO MONTHS. Jesus Christ. Yeah. No more angst from me for a long while. I'm banned.

(12:20) Me skimming through tags on fics debating if I want to pick up something new. Everything being totally normal. Suh happy. Trying not to stew in my own misery. And then I see such a vile tag my stomach twists and now I'm just like okay I'll go fuck myself I guess I'll go write or do my homework. I'm sorry, I adore ao3 and I'm never gonna be a hater, BUT SOME PEOPLE ARE WILD. LIKE I AM TALKING SO BAD I'M ACTUALLY CONSIDERING DOING MY HOMEWORK OVER THAT. LIKE I ACTUALLY JUST WIPED THE TEARS OFF MY FACE AND GOT OVER HOW SAD I WAS BECAUSE OF HOW GENUINELY SHOCKED I WAS. Like wow oh wow.

Anyways. Updates here if there's gonna be any. Also Dandelions up if anyones reading this LMAO

It's 1:40 in the morning and the beginning of Morning Glory is making me fucking unwell. I was not joking when I made that joke about like ten dreaded weeks of angst, Jesus Christ.

(2:12) This is my second time posting this exact part. Like I know I've posted this exact part. But I seriously love Christophe and all of his dialogue with my whole heart.

(4:31) I do not recall making Dova this tragic and I'm literally about to sob over him. LIKE WHY???? WHY DID I DO THAT??? WHY ARE HIS LITTLE SUBTLE BITS OF STORYLINE SO ACTUALLY PAINFUL AS THE STORY GOES ON????? (I am allergic to happiness I am my own canon event at this point)

(4:48) THE ABSOLUTE DEVASTATION THAT COMES WITH WANTING MORE STORY BUT IT SIMPLY NOT EXISTING BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO WRITE IT IS DEVASTATING.

(5:02) Welp. I'm ruined and am now compelled by god to start working on Morning Glory again. We're at 73k rn. And only two chapters that aren't the prologue are under 4k. That's fucking terrifying. Like I have 17 minus the prologue rn. WE ARE LITERALLY THREE CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE FOURTH OF JULY. THERE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ANOTHER 16/17 OF SUMMER ALONE. AND THERE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE AT LEAST ANOTHER 14 AFTER THAT. LIKE THE 14 ARE THE PLANNED SPECIFIC EVENT CHAPTERS. BRUH. WHY DID I DO THIS????

regret.

regret is all I feel.

but I will push through.

(7:38) before I go to bed I will just say I am at 75.3k. I had no idea how I would even get close to 4k on a birthday chapter where the group effectively decided to just stay home and hang out. But now there is like 1.5k of them playing muffin time. It's wild. I love it. GOOD NIGHT.

[s1utspeare]

20.) Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

oooooohhhhhh you’ve really done it now. I. Have. So much meta feelings. Omg. This is gonna be a long one. If u couldn’t tell i am a whole-ass meta HO and literally any of my work is going to have like. Layers and layers of meta work done in the background. I do a lot of classical literature work so I’m talking shit like writing the ending speech to a play based on The Tempest in the exact meter and rhyme scheme as the ending speech in that play. 

Okay I’m going to do Swiftly Tilting meta bc that’s what most of you know, but if anyone would like to here about the Biggest Dramaturgical Undertaking of my Life, my Untimely Ripped senior thesis project, lemme know ;)

OKAY SO SOME META THINGS I PUT IN SWIFTLY TILTING

this one was mostly about the foreshadowing I think; there was soooo many steps and hints and stuff I was trying to throw in along the way, and a lot of people picked up on them, which was SO FUN. uhhhh. There are some things that turned into plot holes a little bit but there are a few bits that stayed pretty hidden! Like the fact that Jiang Zisuan was the full-blooded human that Wang Meng scented out in Chapter One, not Mao Xincheng. Um I loved putting in all of the species differences and tie-ins to canon, that was super fun. Oh! The journal that Sanshu found when researching Yincangui was Fo-ye’s! Zhang Rishan had put it on the ship and then lost it when he was trying to turn around and go back but was freaking out and all that stuff. Wu Xie isn’t actually a Shouling because he doesn’t own the ship, Sanshu does, but his crew call him that anyway because that’s what he is to them. Normally Kylin would have others of their species with them during regenerations to form those mental tethers, but since Zhang Rishan and Xiao-ge didn’t, Liu Sang was able to keep them psychically linked to avoid losing their memories. Since Liu Sang didn’t remember the execution frequency, he killed the metal porcupine monster on Lehan by literally just Screaming At It. After the gang leaves Yincangui it eventually just gets lost Permanently. Liu Sang never goes back. Huo Daofu insists that Zhang Rishan isn’t human at every single Nine Bloodlines meeting and everyone refuses to believe him and it drives him insane. 

the other thing that I really enjoyed was the different POVs, especially the use of swear words in them??? Xiao Bai would swear, but only in dialogue. Kan Jian didn’t swear at all in his chapter, I don’t think. Pangzi used swear words like every other line (also was not as introspective as the other characters, which is why his chapter is one of my favorites? even though they’re grounded, it seems so active because Pangzi’s constantly in the action, he’s not ruminating on things like all of the others). Wang Meng only swore when Li Cu was in danger I’m pretty sure (also loved doing colors and sounds and smells and different senses with his POV). Xiao-ge swore when he though it was something Wu Xie would say (I also loved giving different emotional weight to his sentences and the ones in parentheses, as well as switching between Xiao-ge calling himself Xiao-ge or Zhang Qiling, depending on the level of danger they were in). Li Cu used Capital Letters to Emphasize Important Words A Lot (@jockvillagersonly pointed out that Li Cu’s chapter was literally just how I talk which I think is funny as shit) and swore a good amount bc he had picked it up from Wu Xie and Pangzi. Liu Sang didn’t swear because he was Literally A Baby (those chapters were also interesting because I had to keep him in the mindset of a child; there were so many ways things could have gone but he was a kid and he was panicking and he didn’t know how to handle a lot of things emotionally, so there’s a lot left out that an older narrator would have gotten). Wu Xie was sort of a combination of all of the pov voices we’ve had so far, which made sense because of how in-tune he was with the languages of his crew.

snake language for Li Cu! I used a lot of words like coiled and constricted and hissed and slithered and struck when describing his words and actions to really drive home his snake-like nature even before I revealed his species heritage. 

I wrote all of the Fo-ye and Zhang Rishan backstory before I had seen much of Mystic Nine so I killed Ba-ye without knowing the Implications. I’m so sorry Ba-ye. 

all of the acoustic stuff!!! the acoustic levitation and sound in space and sonic illusions were researched and like. hashed out before I wrote them! So theoretically they could all be real. I was like. deep in the science articles lmao. 

ALSO!!! ON THAT NOTE (haha)!!! Liu Sang’s name in Yincanguian was an A-flat four. Su Baiyin’s was a G-major five, and if you plug all the frequencies listed in the journal into a frequency generator on the internet, you can hear what those words sound like in their language. 

Liu Sang originally was going to be from a planet called Wangcen lmao. Also in the original outline they were going to completely destroy Yincangui and also pretty much all of Liu Sang’s backstory did not exist.

At the end of the fic, Sanshu is living with Chen Wen-Jin!  

AH THERE WAS A LOT!!! Swiftly Tilting was literally so much fun to write, and so much fun to see what people caught, because everyone noticed different things!!! <3

Thank you so much for the ask, I live for this shit. 

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; don’t run from me river

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: nines filed the results of the system check to the back of his mind, to be analysed later, and sighed. he wasn’t originally programmed to sigh, but he sure did it alot nowadays. he sighed once more. this check would most likely return like the previous few, [ all systems optimal; functionality: 100% ]. so why does his processor stutter, causing him to freeze and catch his voice in his throat, when he was around you? there was only one logical explanation: he was broken.

a/n: ya boi is an idiot who made more wips than he could handle,,,, but anyway i wanted to write a nines fic because,,,,,,,,,,,, idk inspiration struck? i must admit i had no idea where i was going w this fic skfksfjaskdfhjk btw nines is deviant in this fic, i just have a hc that since he was forced into deviancy (unlike the 3 protagonists who reached some sort of catharsis) he isn’t as familiar with emotions as those 3, hence his difficulty identifying and expressing them. also rk800-60 and rk900 have assigned names, being colin (nickname sixty) and conan (nickname nines) respectively. connor is just connor lmao,,,,, i am god in my fics and i decide that my 3 bois are bros and happy lil deviants,,,, mk, go!

the ambiance inside the bar was loud and suffocating. many people came to celebrate an officer’s promotion to detective, and while nines wasn’t particularly close to them, he showed up regardless (although a certain duo of rk800 models may or may not have had something to do with his decision). mere formalities; he politely congratulated them and stepped away to ruminate on his own in a corner, absently watching the scene in front of him. for a reason that escaped him, he was (disappointed?) (hurt?) that you got along with colin. he still experienced anomalies in his system when near you, even after being told that he was perfectly fine at the maintenance centre. if the problem wasn’t from within, then there was only one probable cause: an outside factor. a recurring event. one that triggered these anomalies. you.

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

while you have taken to your new partner wonderfully, he wasn’t as gracious with his. between reed’s incessant snide remarks and overall unwillingness to cooperate, he’d much rather be deactivated. he found himself missing your partnership. for one, your cooperativeness was a relief. you were determined, passionate and kind. truthfully, he missed you. the shine in your eyes when you find a lead, your composure and professionalism, the soothing quality of your voice, the way you’d let you hand linger in his, how your features softened when you smiled—smiled at hi— he caught himself. why did that last part come to mind? how did you still manage to affect him when you’re so far away? he was about to check why when a laughter caught his attention. your wonderful  laughter. One he was oh so familiar with. you were laughing with his brother, probably at another of his bad jokes. seeing you happy with him stirred an ugly feeling inside him. one that he did not recognise nor acknowledge. one that caused him to glare at his older counterpart.

he was miserable after parting ways from you, having to deal with reed’s complaining. he was hurt, he was away from you and it didn’t feel right. this distance between you two manifested as physical pain on his part, so how come you were fine? how were you able to move on in your life as if nothing happened? sadness and hurt turned into something more despicable: how dare you not feel the same pain he did? seeing you so happy twisted the knife deeper in his heart. how could you? conflicting emotions; he wanted to see you happy. he also wanted to see you suffer with him.

his glowering must’ve been pretty obvious as connor “addressed” him, asking if he was alright, to which he replied with a curt « all systems fully functional ». clearly the wrong answer as the rk800 frowned slightly and asked him to follow him. nines did as told. you watched him as he left, but he’d never know that.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between the detective and i. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get the detective’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

a sudden rage took over nines’ body as he pushed colin out of the doorway and stormed back inside the bar. a few beats passed before connor threw a chastising look at his twin, which colin shrugged nonchalantly to.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”.

date /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not dense, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

watching you hurt inside because of him was worse than any punishment he could’ve received. any and all previous wishes for you to suffer was quickly erased. he’s much rather suffer alone than watch you break. he took hesitant steps back. away from you. distancing himself from you. you noticed his actions and whispered a desperate « nines… please… » he wanted to run away. he wanted to stay. he wanted to leave and pretend this conversation never happened. he wanted to hold you and tell you everything: his fears, his doubts, his growing affection for you. in the end, he found himself running away from his problems like a coward. you didn’t bother to chase after him, desperately crying out « please… please don’t run from me conan. », last part choked out as you tried to hold yourself together. hearing your voice crack and waver because of him was awful. he wanted to turn back. comfort you. But his body didn’t obey him. when he finally stopped to pay attention to where he was going, he was right back at his shared flat. he swallowed dryly and moved to enter his house, a solemn air around him.

the next few days were absolutely torturous. he increased his initiative to avoid you, never seen in the same place as you, much to your chagrin. an act so blatant than someone as ignorant as reed noticed, an act that become the core of his recent round of taunts. avoiding you hurt. so why did he continue to do it? the thought of approaching the subject made him go cold. it immobilised him, stopped him from uttering a single word. a quick search told him he was scared. nervous. for rejection. he doesn’t know if his heart could take much more. he does resolve to tell you one day… just… not today…

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to get shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

the clock ticked. and ticked. and ticked. when finally, the surgeon informed the two that you were alright. they managed to take out all the bullets. your condition was stable. you were ok. heavily sedated and going to be in a lot of pain. but you were ok. nines didn’t stop the heavy sigh of relief that escaped him. the doctor told them that visits will be allowed as soon as you were settled in recovery. he was going to tell you. he told himself, like an unspoken promise. he was going to tell you then. it’s the least you deserve. he was going to apologise and come clean. hopefully you’ll have it in you to forgive him.

when you finally came to, your body ached, you didn’t want to move, so you settled with eyeing your room. what happened? you were chasing this guy… and he pulled out a gun… pain and then darkness. and now you’re here. the recovery room was filled with gifts and get-well soon cards. balloons of assorted colours filled the room, bouquets of diverse types of flowers adorned the table.

« you’re awake. »

you turned your head at the source, seeing connor at the doorway. « how—you cleared your throat—how long was i gone for? you asked, voice raspy. – around 3 days and a half. you’d gain consciousness a few times, but you were too heavily sedated to be fully coherent. he explained as he took a seat near the bed. you groaned. – gosh that long? connor nodded. how’s colin? – doing pretty well all things considered. he does, however, feel immensely guilty about failing to protect you. – well, tell him it’s not his fault and that i forgive everything he’s blaming himself with. you worried about him. despite sixty’s mischievous exterior, he had a tendency to get himself stuck in a depressive loop of self-deprecation. connor smiled graciously. – will do… he placed a paper cup filled with what you assumed was thirium on the floor. how are you feeling? – everything hurts but i’ll live, you quipped. » the android chuckled and was about to reply when a knock caught both of your attention. the door creaked slightly open, as nines peered in. he hesitated before asking if he may speak with you. the “alone” part being left unsaid as connor bid you farewell and left.

you and your former partner were locked in an intense stareoff, you on the bed on one end and him glued to the door on the other. he took tentative steps towards you. closing that distance. when he was besides your bed, he nervously called out your name. you parroted him, mustering out a curt « conan. » he took a deep breath that he technically didn’t need and whispered out an apology: « i… i’m sorry. for everything i’ve caused—for all the hurt i’ve caused… for what it’s worth… i never meant for all this to happen. » his voice was clipped as guilt overcame him. you watched him, silent as ever. he wished you would say something, anything. the silence was deafening.

« then please tell me why… he promised himself that he’d come clean. – i… i don’t… i don’t think i know... for sure… i experienced anomalies in my system when i was around you.. you’d consume my every thought, i’d feel immobilised and i… i’ve been told that i’m being nervous… i’ve been told that i harboured romantic feelings for you… i-i don’t know. i… i yearn for your attention, your touch, your affection… but is it right for something like me to desire such a thing? am-am i broken…? his voice was barely a whisper when he choked out the lay part, and he waited for his response, growing more anxious as each second ticked by. what if you didn’t want him? what if he wasn’t enough? – no, you aren’t broken. you shook your head. just human. »

nines. confident and assured nines was an insecure and trembling mess as he poured out all of the doubts that plagued his mind. your heart aches as you wished to comfort him, so you do. you reached out, best you can, and grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. an action that took him by surprised as he stiffened at your touch. but he soon relaxed and carefully snaked his arms around your waist, returning the hug. you slowly caressed his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

you both stay like this for a moment, relishing in each others presence, before you spoke up again: « it’s okay to be unsure, you know. he stopped his nuzzling, indicating to you that he was listening. if you don’t feel ready at the moment… if you just wanna be friends for the time being, i’m ok with that. and if one day you decide that you want to be more, just remember i’ll be right here. » you pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and stayed in that position for a while, neither wanting to part ways, but this awkwardly positioned hug took a toll on your back so the both of you half heartedly pulled away from each other. hands holding the other’s, you asked for one more request: « just promise me one thing. – anything, he breathed out. – please… don’t ever run from me again. – never. he promised, fully intending to fulfill said request. »

« thank you. »

like my work? consider buying me a coffee // checking out my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

[uncle-americas-haas-of-meat]

two neat creative things I worked on last night:

I have a general plot synopsis (+ a character-development heavy scene!) written for a surprisingly wholesome/meaningful fic based on that drag-queen!Shayne n recovering-addict!Damien idea I had last night!

it turned surprisingly wholesome since I unexpectedly became emotionally invested in these characters, lmao!

most of what I’ve fully written so far has involved D ruminating on how the unexpected yet delightful semi-sexual kink encounter he had with S interacts with his trauma and the work he’s done in recovery, but less depressing than that might sound.

it’s not whump, moreso like “oh my GOD this is actually an option?? how do I NOT ACTUALLY HURT ANYONE THOUGH?? waaaiiit… how do I make sure that I’M not the one that gets hurt by my own fuckin’ choices? goddddd. his shoulders though…”

like, recovery has helped him recognize codependency & other maladaptive coping behaviors so now he pulls the reins HARD on anything sudden that feels excessively thrilling so soon, but that doesn’t mean he won’t still be thinking about how hot it was 24/7 lmao

it also has the start of S’ drag performance which includes bantering with the as yet unnamed trans masc drag king MC! if this (somehow) becomes an actual Full Story I’m gonna need a character who understands both D’s trauma-informed analysis of the situation as well as the performance- & party-focused world S is enmeshed in.

I have already started fleshing out other character details for the MC so I have effectively created three original characters that I have to finish developing, so I’m planning on writing a bunch of drabbles and setpieces until I know them (and the setting, cos I know fuck-all about gay clubs in California that would host a queen as popular as I imagine S to be) well enough for a full plot to flow

I’m gonna repurposed the mini-binder I barely used at my old job for this, cos why not??

————————————

the second thing is that I am almost finished editing my podfic/narration version of an EXTREMELY TRASHY and UTTERLY HILARIOUS Shaymien smutfic. I actually recorded it in mid-February but got so caught up in getting ready for, being at, and recuperating from that fucking job that I never edited it! but it’s on the way.

I don’t know if I’ll directly share it here because I might post it under a different name since it could benefit my personal sexual content-creator persona more than it could my Smosh one, ya know? I’d be fine with the few fandom people actually interested in that kink to possibly find something labeled with my other name bc it be directly on the other socials, plus I will likely delete this part of the post (& any others about it) lol

but anyway, it’s hilarious and Smosh-related, and I am proud to have actually worked on a creative project like that for as long as I have!

[pumpkinpaix]

Hello! and PSA

*waves* hi everyone! so uh, I’ve kind of had a bit of a surge in followers recently, and I thought I would make a bit of a PSA/intro post with a bit more targeted info than my about page.

anyways, I’m cyan! statistically speaking, you are probably here for one of the following reasons:

my fic

my meta

my gifs

my translation

all of the above

this is pretty much an mdzs blog on main these days, but I also rb a lot of other misc things because I have never been good at keeping my interests separate. it’s also my personal blog, so expect some of that? i am very all or nothing ahaha. my opinions change very quickly as I process new information, so like, something I said last week or yesterday might be different now! I’ve seen several people going through some of my older posts, and I’m just like oh dear, I said a lot of things six months ago that I no longer vibe with. /o\ please keep that in mind as you go diving in my blog!

i don’t have a BYF or DNI policy, but I reserve the right to block anyone for any reason because this is a personal blog first and foremost, and I do need to be better about setting my boundaries and curating my own online space! on that same token, you are free to follow, unfollow, block, whatever, even if we’re mutuals. <3

you’re free to come talk to me in my inbox or dms, but please be aware that there’s a very high chance I will never get back to you /o\ it isn’t personal!! I am just very mentally ill and have many difficulties with keeping up social interactions or talking to people.

in the interest of trying to be more open about myself, my brain, and what that means for me in an online/fandom space, I’m gonna do a boatload of mental health talk under the cut (or, if you’re looking at this on my blog proper or somewhere where the cut doesn’t display, it starts right after this paragraph), including mentions of self-harm/thoughts of specific self-harm etc, just so you are warned! I’ve been thinking recently that it’s good to try and take steps towards being more open about my issues, both for my own sake and others’. It’s long, because one of the fun things about my mental illness is that I am hyperverbal ahahaha (if that... wasn’t already obvious orz)

so if you’ve read pfmmpd, you can kind of get a sense of what I’m working with. a lot of how i wrote lwj was drawn directly from shit happening in my own brain, but like? dial that up from the specific issues that lwj had in that fic and apply it unilaterally across the board to almost anything you can think of.

I hesitate to describe my OCD as debilitating, but only because my specific cocktail of compulsions and anxieties and triggers push me to be hyperachieving and hyperfunctional. I consider myself pretty fortunate (?) in that regard. on paper, you could never tell how absolutely batshit my internal landscape is! which is very good for me practically in that I can hold down a job, keep scholarships, graduate with honors, have good prospects for my future, hold onto relationships (usually yikes) etc. but the fact of the matter is, I’m like. oh boy.

to give you a peek, here’s a non-exhaustive list of things that have triggered me to varying degrees of severity within the last like, week or so:

my dog

a chinese folk song

my mother reading a chinese haiku to me written by a young gay man

a chinese reader of my fic lovingly and gently giving me a history lesson on china and on mdzs while praising me

stepping on a piece of snow that didn’t collapse in the precise way i expected it to

writing meta

reading meta

ruminating on my triggers (honestly, I played myself)

seeing a twitter thread going around tumblr with decent information but the OP is someone who was exceedingly cruel to a good friend of mine

visiting my grandmother’s grave

deciding to visit my grandmother’s grave

discussing the concept of cuddling my partner whom i love and have been with for four years

self-harming (truly the height of irony, being triggered into self-harm and then getting triggered by the result of the self-harm hahahahahaha)

dropping off a package

trying to explain queer-coding to my parents

talking about stressors in my life related to covid19

having a very pleasant conversation with a person i admire

editing my translation

the fact that the “close” button on my accessibility sidebar on the translation website is the wrong color

choosing between eating all the shiitake mushrooms in my soup and purposefully giving myself a bad reaction or throwing one out and wasting food

thinking about playing a fun game with my partner and a mutual friend

my mom asking me to take a photo of some tea for her

my mom asking my opinion on a photo she was photoshopping

animal crossing

writing this fucking post HAHAHAHA

like!! it goes on!! endlessly! obviously, these triggers are not simply “bad” things. the chinese folk song and the haiku were both really beautiful and i love them! but I did spend a good amount of time curled up on my floor in the dark sobbing as i played the song on repeat. the haiku was one of the last straws that ended up with me screaming and crying and hurting myself. the snow??? like wtf the snow thing. I stepped on the snow and it felt wrong and my brain just started screaming SMASH YOUR KNEECAP. ???? (I didn’t, for the record, and I would never.) I love my partner very much! I love my friends very much, and my mother, and my grandmother etc. my triggers are infinite, unpredictable, and bizarre.

I’m saying all of this because I want to be clear that MDZS/CQL fandom specifically triggers me on a daily basis, sometimes very very badly. this is just a fact! it is no one’s fault! I have decided it is worth it for me to stay anyways. it is impossible for me to request people tag for certain things because I myself have no idea what my triggers are until I encounter them. It’s like a fun mystery boss encounter! sometimes it’s low level and i’m well-equipped to handle it. other times it’s a one-hit KO. We just don’t know! there are lots of very cool content creators in this fandom that I can’t follow because it would make my dash that much more high stakes. the original source canon material triggers me! all the events leading up to Lotus Cove massacre? I was shaking at work for three hours after consuming it for the first time.

Meta specifically is something I know a lot of people like me for, but it’s 100% the most triggering activity I participate in for this fandom. like, that suibian meta post I wrote that’s currently going around? Probably took me four or five hours of concentrated effort to write because I was compulsively panicking and rewriting and editing and panicking more and qualifying and editing and qualifying some more and then debating whether I should post it or not and then fighting with myself about my wording and then immediately regretting it and then every time someone commented on it (regardless of positive or negative!) my anxiety spiked. I started a reply to a response on that post and had to stop after a few minutes because I was already starting to trigger myself over it.

this is actually a pretty good outcome when it comes to meta! I recognized that I was hurting myself before I got any further, and I only spent like, five hours on it! it was good exposure therapy for me! the bad outcome is. well. bad, as you might imagine lmao.

I like writing meta. I like talking to people about it too! I like participating in fandom, I like writing, I like translating, I like all of these things. they’re just also really hard for me! there’s a couple meta requests sitting in my inbox right now that I want to get to, but it might take me like. a long time because of. you know! *gestures* Everything takes me a long time. that first chapter of the translation took me literally five months from beginning the project to posting a final edited version. It’s just over 1k words. D8

I try really hard to be chill and kind in public and I largely think I succeed on the kind part (I hope!). If you thought I had even an ounce of chill before this, perhaps I have disabused of that notion entirely now lmao. I’m not saying this for pity, but like? just so we all know what we’re dealing with here. I don’t want anyone to get hurt when I don’t engage with them or feel snubbed if I never reply to them. and also like, hey, if someone relates it’s like hooray, high fave, solidarity! we’re not alone in this world! or maybe this will help someone understand OCD a little better! I don’t know. I hope this post is a positive thing. BUT! I’ve spent three hours on it already, and i’m definitely starting to compulsively spiral, so instead of going back and editing it over and over, I’m just going to post it. thank you everyone for your understanding! I hope you enjoy your time on my blog! (*´▽`*)

[pointedly-foolish]

[ dσn’t run frσm mє rívєr ]

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: nines filed the results of the system check to the back of his mind, to be analysed later, and sighed. he wasn’t originally programmed to sigh, but he sure did it alot nowadays. he sighed once more. this check would most likely return like the previous few, [ all systems optimal; functionality: 100% ]. so why does his processor stutter, causing him to freeze and catch his voice in his throat, when he was around you? there was only one logical explanation: he was broken.

a/n: ya boi is an idiot who made more wips than he could handle,,,, but anyway i wanted to write a nines fic because,,,,,,,,,,,, idk inspiration struck? i must admit i had no idea where i was going w this fic skfksfjaskdfhjk btw nines is deviant in this fic, i just have a hc that since he was forced into deviancy (unlike the 3 protagonists who reached some sort of catharsis) he isn’t as familiar with emotions as those 3, hence his difficulty identifying and expressing them. also rk800-60 and rk900 have assigned names, being colin (nickname sixty) and conan (nickname nines) respectively. connor is just connor lmao,,,,, i am god in my fics and i decide that my 3 bois are bros and happy lil deviants,,,, mk, go!

the ambiance inside the bar was loud and suffocating. many people came to celebrate an officer’s promotion to detective, and while nines wasn’t particularly close to them, he showed up regardless (although a certain duo of rk800 models may or may not have had something to do with his decision). mere formalities; he politely congratulated them and stepped away to ruminate on his own in a corner, absently watching the scene in front of him. for a reason that escaped him, he was (disappointed?) (hurt?) that you got along with colin. he still experienced anomalies in his system when near you, even after being told that he was perfectly fine at the maintenance centre. if the problem wasn’t from within, then there was only one probable cause: an outside factor. a recurring event. one that triggered these anomalies. you.

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

while you have taken to your new partner wonderfully, he wasn’t as gracious with his. between reed’s incessant snide remarks and overall unwillingness to cooperate, he’d much rather be deactivated. he found himself missing your partnership. for one, your cooperativeness was a relief. you were determined, passionate and kind. truthfully, he missed you. the shine in your eyes when you find a lead, your composure and professionalism, the soothing quality of your voice, the way you’d let you hand linger in his, how your features softened when you smiled—smiled at hi— he caught himself. why did that last part come to mind? how did you still manage to affect him when you’re so far away? he was about to check why when a laughter caught his attention. your wonderful laughter. One he was oh so familiar with. you were laughing with his brother, probably at another of his bad jokes. seeing you happy with him stirred an ugly feeling inside him. one that he did not recognise nor acknowledge. one that caused him to glare at his older counterpart.

he was miserable after parting ways from you, having to deal with reed’s complaining. he was hurt, he was away from you and it didn’t feel right. this distance between you two manifested as physical pain on his part, so how come you were fine? how were you able to move on in your life as if nothing happened? sadness and hurt turned into something more despicable: how dare you not feel the same pain he did? seeing you so happy twisted the knife deeper in his heart. how could you? conflicting emotions; he wanted to see you happy. he also wanted to see you suffer with him.

his glowering must’ve been pretty obvious as connor “addressed” him, asking if he was alright, to which he replied with a curt « all systems fully functional ». clearly the wrong answer as the rk800 frowned slightly and asked him to follow him. nines did as told. you watched him as he left, but he’d never know that.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between the detective and i. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get the detective’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

a sudden rage took over nines’ body as he pushed colin out of the doorway and stormed back inside the bar. a few beats passed before connor threw a chastising look at his twin, which colin shrugged nonchalantly to.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”.

date /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not dense, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

watching you hurt inside because of him was worse than any punishment he could’ve received. any and all previous wishes for you to suffer was quickly erased. he’s much rather suffer alone than watch you break. he took hesitant steps back. away from you. distancing himself from you. you noticed his actions and whispered a desperate « nines… please… » he wanted to run away. he wanted to stay. he wanted to leave and pretend this conversation never happened. he wanted to hold you and tell you everything: his fears, his doubts, his growing affection for you. in the end, he found himself running away from his problems like a coward. you didn’t bother to chase after him, desperately crying out « please… please don’t run from me conan. », last part choked out as you tried to hold yourself together. hearing your voice crack and waver because of him was awful. he wanted to turn back. comfort you. But his body didn’t obey him. when he finally stopped to pay attention to where he was going, he was right back at his shared flat. he swallowed dryly and moved to enter his house, a solemn air around him.

the next few days were absolutely torturous. he increased his initiative to avoid you, never seen in the same place as you, much to your chagrin. an act so blatant than someone as ignorant as reed noticed, an act that become the core of his recent round of taunts. avoiding you hurt. so why did he continue to do it? the thought of approaching the subject made him go cold. it immobilised him, stopped him from uttering a single word. a quick search told him he was scared. nervous. for rejection. he doesn’t know if his heart could take much more. he does resolve to tell you one day… just… not today…

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to get shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

the clock ticked. and ticked. and ticked. when finally, the surgeon informed the two that you were alright. they managed to take out all the bullets. your condition was stable. you were ok. heavily sedated and going to be in a lot of pain. but you were ok. nines didn’t stop the heavy sigh of relief that escaped him. the doctor told them that visits will be allowed as soon as you were settled in recovery. he was going to tell you. he told himself, like an unspoken promise. he was going to tell you then. it’s the least you deserve. he was going to apologise and come clean. hopefully you’ll have it in you to forgive him.

when you finally came to, your body ached, you didn’t want to move, so you settled with eyeing your room. what happened? you were chasing this guy… and he pulled out a gun… pain and then darkness. and now you’re here. the recovery room was filled with gifts and get-well soon cards. balloons of assorted colours filled the room, bouquets of diverse types of flowers adorned the table.

« you’re awake. »

you turned your head at the source, seeing connor at the doorway. « how—you cleared your throat—how long was i gone for? you asked, voice raspy. – around 3 days and a half. you’d gain consciousness a few times, but you were too heavily sedated to be fully coherent. he explained as he took a seat near the bed. you groaned. – gosh that long? connor nodded. how’s colin? – doing pretty well all things considered. he does, however, feel immensely guilty about failing to protect you. – well, tell him it’s not his fault and that i forgive everything he’s blaming himself with. you worried about him. despite sixty’s mischievous exterior, he had a tendency to get himself stuck in a depressive loop of self-deprecation. connor smiled graciously. – will do… he placed a paper cup filled with what you assumed was thirium on the floor. how are you feeling? – everything hurts but i’ll live, you quipped. » the android chuckled and was about to reply when a knock caught both of your attention. the door creaked slightly open, as nines peered in. he hesitated before asking if he may speak with you. the “alone” part being left unsaid as connor bid you farewell and left.

you and your former partner were locked in an intense stareoff, you on the bed on one end and him glued to the door on the other. he took tentative steps towards you. closing that distance. when he was besides your bed, he nervously called out your name. you parroted him, mustering out a curt « conan. » he took a deep breath that he technically didn’t need and whispered out an apology: « i… i’m sorry. for everything i’ve caused—for all the hurt i’ve caused… for what it’s worth… i never meant for all this to happen. » his voice was clipped as guilt overcame him. you watched him, silent as ever. he wished you would say something, anything. the silence was deafening.

« then please tell me why… he promised himself that he’d come clean. – i… i don’t… i don’t think i know... for sure… i experienced anomalies in my system when i was around you.. you’d consume my every thought, i’d feel immobilised and i… i’ve been told that i’m being nervous… i’ve been told that i harboured romantic feelings for you… i-i don’t know. i… i yearn for your attention, your touch, your affection… but is it right for something like me to desire such a thing? am-am i broken…? his voice was barely a whisper when he choked out the lay part, and he waited for his response, growing more anxious as each second ticked by. what if you didn’t want him? what if he wasn’t enough? – no, you aren’t broken. you shook your head. just human. »

nines. confident and assured nines was an insecure and trembling mess as he poured out all of the doubts that plagued his mind. your heart aches as you wished to comfort him, so you do. you reached out, best you can, and grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. an action that took him by surprised as he stiffened at your touch. but he soon relaxed and carefully snaked his arms around your waist, returning the hug. you slowly caressed his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

you both stay like this for a moment, relishing in each others presence, before you spoke up again: « it’s okay to be unsure, you know. he stopped his nuzzling, indicating to you that he was listening. if you don’t feel ready at the moment… if you just wanna be friends for the time being, i’m ok with that. and if one day you decide that you want to be more, just remember i’ll be right here. » you pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and stayed in that position for a while, neither wanting to part ways, but this awkwardly positioned hug took a toll on your back so the both of you half heartedly pulled away from each other. hands holding the other’s, you asked for one more request: « just promise me one thing. – anything, he breathed out. – please… don’t ever run from me again. – never. he promised, fully intending to fulfill said request. »

« thank you. »

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

[dear-wormwoods]

I'm just curious can you list the losers club from your favorite to least favorite and explain why

Ohhh this is so hard and here’s why: Richie and Eddie are constantly rotating who is in the top spot depending on like... my mood, or what I’m thinking or writing about the most. I know that probably comes as a surprise given that most of my meta is so Eddie focused? But god I just love Richie so much. It’s a head vs. heart thing with them, honestly. A year ago I would’ve absolutely said Eddie first because I was constantly churning out meta about him, but RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT the order is:

1. Richie. Gonna go with my heart on this one - I have a big giant weakness for funny-charming characters/people, so Richie has always been like, the “if I was gonna marry one of the Losers” choice since I first read the book in high school. And Richie has so much depth, but you have to really read between the lines to find it, so his chapters are fun in that way, too. I love him for the same reasons Eddie does - his “sometimes enchanting, sometimes exhausting charm”, his ambition, his willingness to go with the flow, his devotion to his friends, his intelligence, his fascination with music and theatrics, and also the way he’s just sort of an enigma. And then obviously Bill Hader, a long-time celebrity crush, had to come along and fulfill my wildest dreams by taking the role and pouring his soul into it. Lastly, in terms of writing, I have the most fun writing Richie. I write Eddie’s POV a lot more (on the rare occasions I write fic) because it comes more naturally, but I actually get the most fulfillment from writing Richie.

2. Eddie. If my heart belongs to Richie, my brain belongs to Eddie. I have spent countless hours analyzing every god damn word in his chapters and I think about him nearly constantly. He’s always been the Loser I relate to the most, but not because of his home life or anything (my parents are actually a lot like Richie’s - my dad is hilarious and my mom is just great, but as a kid/teen they didn’t get me at all because I turned out way weirder and more annoying than they anticipated and it was a Struggle to communicate lmao). Anyway, I relate to Eddie’s personality a lot, and just how his brain works. I too am always stuck in my own head, emotional and overly self-critical, historically reluctant to take risks because it’s safer to be stagnant, will bend over backwards to take care of other people to the point of not doing anything for myself because of codependent tendencies, etc etc. Analyzing Eddie gives me a lot of intellectual fulfillment and also helps me reflect on myself. This is why I refuse to baby him and try to explore and examine his flaws and mistakes. He’s the most complex character in the story and inherently so Brave and Good. (sidenote: I hate saying really positive things right after saying that I relate to him because it feels arrogant and like I’m saying that about myself, too, which I’m definitely not. Does anyone else get like that? Like, you relate to a character and openly praise them, but then feel like a giant asshole because you inadvertently said something nice about yourself by loving on a character you relate to?)

3. Ben. I love reading Ben’s chapters so much, he’s such a well-developed character and I feel his chapters are almost on par with Eddie’s in terms of being a joy to read and having a very distinct tone. If Eddie’s the guiding light of the group, Ben is the engineer. He has this sort of deep and natural self-confidence that I love. He’s got his hobbies, his books, and he’s just chillin’. He’s very self conscious about his body, but he’s SO confident about his mind and his heart. I’ve always found it fascinating that Ben’s IT manifestations are so impersonal and very typical movie-monster type shit, and I think it’s because he really doesn’t fear much. He doesn’t need to. He knows what he’s capable of and he doesn’t stop to ruminate about it, he just fucking does it. IT can’t really touch that. Also, as Richie’s mirror, he automatically gets a high spot on the list - we stan wildly successful but deeply lonely guys who spent their youth pining in secret.

4. Mike. I know a lot of people find the Derry Interludes boring, but I really love being able to dive into Mike’s stream of consciousness journal keeping. He’s truly the lighthouse keeper, and that’s a rough fucking gig. His love of lore and history is so relatable, though. And I love his relationship with his parents, especially with Will, and it’s great to have a prominent example of positive parenting to combat against the likes of Sonia, Alvin, and Butch Bowers. Mike really loves his parents and the Losers, and he’s so smart and sensitive and GOOD, even in the face of near-constant racism and 27 years of exhausting and lonely detective work. My only wish for him is to fucking leave Derry and finally relax.

5. Bev. I really love Bev, but she’s lower on the list because I find her to be a pretty underdeveloped character in the novel. This is mostly because Stephen King truly sucks at writing women, but knowing that doesn’t stop me from just not feeling super engaged with her chapters. In theory, Bev is great - and she was/will be great in the movies, too. She’s Eddie’s mirror, so admittedly a lot of my affection for her stems from that and the joy I get from examining their parallels (particularly in terms of how IT targets them both with their sexuality and dirtiness/cleanliness).

6. Bill. I have never really been super invested in Bill. It’s just like... too glaringly obvious that he’s a self-insert for Stephen King, so he falls flat a lot of the time, for me. Sometimes I like to think that’s intentional, because we get so much of seeing Bill through the Losers’ eyes with all their idolization and projection, so the “real Bill” never really stood a chance of living up to that image. Other times all I see is a self-insert. But I do really love the way his guilt over Georgie’s death is explored and how that guilt leads him to be selfishly single-minded in his quest for vengeance. I just wish more time was spent on that in his adult chapters and less on that cringey hotel sex scene.

7. Stan. Stan is last but I certainly don’t dislike him. It’s just... I’m really sorry but I think Stan is a super overrated character. I love his scene with the Standpipe and the drowned kids, and I think his friendships with Eddie and Bev are not given enough attention, and I love Stanpat, but overall... I just don’t think about him all that much. I’m really only able to get invested in Stan if it’s in relation to Patty. They just wanted a baby and a happy life, Mike.

This turned into such a fucking ramble. Hopefully it’s what you were looking for! 😬

[elsaclack]

Girl your recent soulmate AU fic!! It was…Poetic Cinema. The hurt/comfort. The pining and smitten Jake. Amy’s “You were worth the wait.” Gosh everything about it was so beautiful. I love it a lot! If you don’t mind, would you write a fic of when they’re talking about soulmates? The line where Amy reminds Jake that he’s felt his soulmate since he was 7 intrigued me and I’d love to read how that convo went. Love your writing and can’t wait to read what you write next!

HIIIIIIIIIII THIS IS KINDA LATE BUT BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT

anyways it got angstier than i meant it to?? also originally in my head there wasn’t really any one solid conversation where they talked this through - i kind of imagined it as amy slowly gathering information up over the years as jake peppers little comments into otherwise-unrelated conversations if that makes sense. i did always intend for amy to talk about this at some point in this canon - originally, jake only overheard her talking to terry and rosa about it, but i also really liked the angst potential of jake kind of skirting the subject with her and her coming out and saying this without realizing who exactly she’s talking to.

that’ll make more sense when you read it lmao

anyways the first part is set in the captain mcginley years, and the second part is like...their third or fourth date (bc i’m apparently incapable of leaving perfectly good angst as-is in this au)

His chest feels heated with the intensity of her frustration.

It’s been going on all morning - growing stronger by the hour - and if he weren’t so exhausted and hungover from his evening out with Rosa and Charles the night before, he might have the wherewithal to worry.

As it is, he contents himself with the fresh coffee wafting out of the paper cup in his hand and the knowledge that he’s only fifteen minutes late today instead of his standard thirty.

Amy’s voice reaches him the moment the elevator doors slide open, and he can’t help himself - he grimaces into his cup. Because he recognizes that tone: lofty, arrogant, know-it-all lecturer, at the absolute peak of her soap box in the break room. Her conviction is a burning ember glowing bright inside his chest; through the partially opened blinds he sees her standing near the vending machines, turned inward toward the table where Rosa and Terry are held captive, face scrunched just so the way it does when she’s in the midst of a debate.

Inwardly, he sighs.

Charles is waiting for him, hovering near his desk, gaze flitting between him and the break room with blatant nerves. “Hey,” he says, and though his tone is gentle, it grates against Jake’s head like nails to a chalkboard. “You hungover?”

“Yeah,” Jake grunts, letting his messenger’s bag fall from his shoulder and collapsing back into his seat in one movement. “What’s got her all riled up?”

“I don’t know, I just got here,” Charles settles in Jake’s guest chair and leans in, elbows planted on his knees, as if they’re sharing some big secret. “I think she’s talking about the nature of free will?”

“Wow,” Jake toggles his mouse until his computer screen lights up. “Sounds fascinating. Ya’ think closing that door will drown her out?”

“I doubt it. Jake,” Charles leans in closer and Jake pauses, fingers hovering over his keyboard. “I think it has to do with soulmates.”

He’s not certain - he has no way of being certain - but he’s pretty sure he manages to keep his composure despite the block of ice suddenly dropping into his gut. “Okay,” he says slowly - and blessedly, his voice remains steady. “Am I supposed to care about that?”

A look of bewilderment passes over Charles’ face, before indignation takes its place. “I know she’s your soulmate, Jake,” he hisses, leaning back as Jake jerks forward.

“Keep it down,” Jake hisses back, glancing over his shoulder at the break room. He can’t see her face but her voice is still carrying - and her emotions remain steady, not an ounce of shock among them. “How the hell do you know that?”

“You told me. Last night. After your fifth whiskey. Five-Drink-Jake is a chatterbox, I tell ya’ -”

“Does anyone else know? Rosa?”

“She was gone by then. Unless you told the cabbie on your way home, I’m the only one who knows.”

Jake huffs out a breath and drops his head, relief overwhelming for a moment, before snapping back to attention and leaning in closer. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Jake -”

“I mean it, Boyle, no one can find out about this.”

“You have to -”

“I’m not ready for that yet, and it sounds like she isn’t, either.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the break room; Charles’ anguished gaze flits from his face to the door and back again. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

Charles stares for a moment, before his shoulders drop. “Y’know I’ve been looking for my soulmate for almost twenty years?” he says softly. “I’d give - I’d give anything to find them. And the minute I do find them...I don’t want to waste another second.”

He leans back in his seat - triumph filtering in through the earnestness - and Jake drops his gaze and bites out a sigh. “This is so not the time or place,” he mutters, “and I’m hungover as hell - I hate Drunk Jake.”

Charles snorts and prods his arm, forcing his chair to roll backwards. “Go,” he says, “Rosa and Terry just left, she’s alone in there.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake grumbles, hauling himself up to his feet and snatching his coffee cup off his desk before trotting off toward the break room.

She’s facing the vending machines when he steps inside, affording him a moment to just watch her shift her weight from foot to foot. The burning conviction he’d felt is still there, though less-pronounced now; she’s mostly consumed with deliberation, as if choosing what plastic-wrapped crap snack is the most healthy option for breakfast. She tilts her head to the right - likely trying to read the nutrition facts on the powdered donut packaging - and a lock of dark hair escaped from her pristine bun slips from behind her ear to lightly graze against the shoulder pad of her pantsuit jacket.

Oh, god, his soulmate wears pantsuits.

He turns his attention to the coffee table and clears his throat, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning in response to her genuine pulse of fear accompanying her quiet gasp. “I’d go for the jumbo honey bun,” he says as he measures out his cream. “Those are fresh. Vending machine dude just loaded ‘em in on Monday.”

“They’re also...half your recommended daily caloric intake,” she says; he allows himself to grin, now, because the amusement in her voice echoes ten times louder in his chest. “Honestly, it’s shocking that you’re such a high-functioning human being and not...constantly going into glucose-related shock.”

“Hey,” he turns his head and finds her staring at him, brows slightly furrowed, eyes lit. “You think I’m high-functioning?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back toward the vending machine, but he can still feel her struggling between amusement and exasperation. “I’d say you’re high-functioning for someone who puts his body through as much abuse as you do. High-functioning in general? That’s a whole different conversation.”

He laughs as he stirs his cream in - and a thrill crashes through him, one entirely unrelated to his own amusement. He glances over his shoulder to find her watching him, her grin somehow bright and half-hidden at once.

His heart skips a beat.

“So...I heard you in here talking to Terry and Rosa earlier.”

Her amusement fades fast; an odd mix of embarrassment and defensiveness take its place. “Yeah,” she says - and her voice is definitely guarded. “I just - uh, we were talking about soulmates. I guess I got a little loud.”

He leans back against the table, still stirring, watching her run her finger down the glass in an ill-fated attempt and seeming nonchalant. “I couldn’t hear what you were actually saying,” he says after a moment - and a minuscule pulse of relief bursts somewhere down in the pit of his belly. “I could just hear that you sounded kind of upset.”

He lets the statement hang, lets it ruminate in her mind. Dozens of emotions are flitting through his chest, so quickly it’s nearly dizzying; she braces a hand on the side of the vending machine and sighs, leaning forward until her forehead audibly clunks against the glass. “My brother...found his soulmate last night.”

Despite the fact that a distinct heaviness clings to both her words and his heart, he feels his brows rise toward his hairline instinctively. “Well that’s - that’s good, right? Isn’t...finding his soulmate a good thing?”

“In theory,” she grumbles; he winces in time with her own pulse of regret. “I mean, yeah, of course it is.” She turns slowly and leans backwards, until her shoulders press against the glass. “I just - it’s got me thinking, is all. He’s the fifth one of us to find his soulmate - it’s just me and two other brothers at this point.”

“And, what, you’re worried you’ll be the last one? Or that - that you’ll never find yours?”

“I’m just frustrated by the whole idea of soulmates in general.” she snaps. “I mean - think about it! Objectively speaking, the concept of two people who have never met before being, like, perfect for each other - or, or completing each other, being each other’s perfect half - whatever metaphor you wanna use! Objectively speaking, it’s completely screwed up! We want to believe that we as humans are afforded the right of basic free will, right? That our lives are anything we want them to be because we get to make our own decisions and choose our own paths, right? Well, if we don’t get to choose who we love - if some big cosmic entity just randomly pairs us all up, the idea of free will itself is a big sham! Who’s to say we don’t have soulmate jobs, or soulmate apartments, or soulmate clothes - who’s to say that any of our choices in life are our own?”

She’s breathing hard, the vending machine forgotten, and Jake’s struggling to remember how to form words. “I-I don’t - I don’t think it’s that deep, Santiago,” he manages to rasp. “It’s not like - it’s not like you’re losing some part of yourself when you find your soulmate. Look at Terry and Sharon. They just happened to meet at a random farmer’s market and they’ve been so happy ever since, but Terry never would have looked twice at her if he hadn’t felt her freak out when that guy stole her purse -”

“I just - I don’t want some random person I don’t know to come gallivanting into my life, thinking they’re entitled to some part of me, because someone else said so.” she interrupts, quieter than before. “I want someone to choose me because they want me. Not just because I’m their soulmate, and not because the universe made the decision for them. I want them to choose me, and I want to choose them, too.”

“Huh,” he hears himself breathe. “I’ve never actually thought about it that way.”

The tips of her ears flush pink as a wave of self-consciousness washes over him. “You just - assumed your soulmate would eventually find you and everything would be perfect?”

“No. I assumed I’d find my soulmate and everything would be perfect.”

Amy’s chin lifts a degree. “You’re receptive?”

He taps his chest. “Since I was seven years old.”

Her brows raise and her surprise is genuine. “Seven,” she repeats softly, and he nods. “That’s so young.” He pulls a long sip from his coffee, watching her process. “Must be a strong connection.”

He lowers his cup slowly, coffee swishing between his teeth before he swallows. He blinks, and behind his eyelids he sees the chalk-scribbled pavement, hears the distant shouts of a soccer game in progress, feels the ghost of her sheer panic squeezing his chest for the very first time. “I’d like to think so,” he admits as the memory fades, voice barely above a whisper.

She presses her lips together as she nods, before inhaling and plastering on a smile. “Let me know when you find them,” she says with a brightness he knows she does not feel.

“Oh, trust me,” he says as he pushes off the table, “you’ll be the first to know.”

“You sarcastic sunnovabitch.”

Jake blinks, frozen half-way through the motion of licking his ice cream cone. Amy’s staring at him like he’s just gone and grown a second head, her own ice cream dripping down her cone, dangerously close to her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he says once he’s recovered, “what did I do?”

“I just got it,” she says, smug and self-assured, and her conviction tickles in the space between his ribs. “I just understood your stupid little inside joke.”

“...’kay, wanna fill me in, then? ‘Cause I definitely don’t get it.”

“You once told me that I’d be the first to know when you found your soulmate.” He furrows his brow, before the memory comes flooding back all at once. “I thought you were just being your usual annoyingly sarcastic self, but you were messing with me, weren’t you?”

“I’m always messing with you, Santiago,” he nudges her side with his elbow and she huffs, playfully indignant. “But, yeah, I was definitely messing with you then.”

“Well that officially makes you a liar. J’accuse!”

He lets out an indignant squawk around his ice cream. “I never lied to you about us being soulmates!”

“Excuse me, but you most certainly did lie!”

“I need receipts or I’m not paying, lady.”

“You told me I’d be the first to know when you found your soulmate - otherwise known as me - but you admitted yourself on our first date that you told Charles first!”

“When I was drunk! My critical thinking skills were compromised! My judgement impaired! Sober Jake would never in a million years -”

“Dissociate and place blame all you want, Peralta, you lied and I caught you red-handed.”

It’s hard to maintain the facade of defense when her amusement and affection are just short of suffocating; after a moment of grappling, he breaks, a broad grin splitting across his face, which she immediately mirrors. “Fine,” he sighs - not an ounce of dejection anywhere in sight. “I’m sorry that I lied and said you’d be the first to know when I actually drunkenly told Charles first. How can I ever make it up to you?”

She pretends to mull it over - she pretends she can’t feel every last ounce of his affection rearing up like a tidal wave at the way the neon pawn shop lights glow against her skin - and then her bright, happy gaze fixates on his face. “You can take me back to my apartment and pretend to watch a movie while we make out on the couch instead.”

“If I have to.”

She lets out a laugh and snatches his hand, but before she can bound off town the street, he tugs her back with just enough force that she stumbles, right into his chest. He swallows her surprised gasp, humming at the mingling taste of his chocolate ice cream and her strawberry; there’s a distinct splat of her ice cream hitting the sidewalk as she lifts both arms up over his shoulders to curl around the back of his neck, curving his back just slightly to better reach her.

“Never gets old,” she whispers against his lips, fingers gently combing through his hair as they slowly break apart.

“You know what else never gets old?”

“Hm?”

“Die Hard.”

“We are not watching Die Hard. Absolutely not.”

“What if I’m the big spoon tonight?”

“Nope.”

“What if I’m the big spoon and I make pancakes in the morning?”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Big spoon, pancakes, and I’ll convince Rosa to sub in for you on that stakeout with Charles next week so you can go to that exhibit at the Met?”

“You really are my soulmate, aren’t you?”

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

Bashful Creatures (1)

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: around 1.7k

Summary: Y/N feels herself beginning to fall in love with her best friend.

Warnings: y’all this thing is fluff galore, lots of pining, super cute

A/N: (long parts written in italics are memories!)

i hope y’all like this! i had a really warm feeling while writing it lmao, i have ideas for the next part already! so if y’all like this one let me know and then i’ll write a part 2<3 again just wanna say thanks to anyone and everyone that takes the time to read this or any of my other fics!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The rising sun bathed your bedroom in an orange glow. It shone through the blinds, through the curtains that billowed from the breeze that floated in from your open window. You had not slept, not a wink. But you did not mind, because he had. As you stared at him now you couldn’t imagine what beautiful images had coaxed him into such a deep slumber. It was the first night in months that Bucky had slept without a stir.

His gentle breaths came through slightly parted pink lips. He slept on his stomach, head resting atop his forearm. You reached out to brush a lock of his hair from his face. He grunted, but did not wake. For the thousandth time in the past few hours you gazed upon his face. There was a sort of quiet serenity that he emanated that seemed to provide you with some glimmer of hope; maybe all nights would be like this one. Nights without dreams plagued by darkness and peaceful sleep, nights that would turn into tranquil mornings.

When completely relaxed, he had a boyish quality about him. He looked delicate. If he was handled too roughly he might shatter. His fragile appearance was not indicative of his true nature…he was one of the strongest men you’d ever known. Physically and mentally. He shifted in bed, you watched how his muscles moved beneath his tanned skin. He was golden like the sun. Warm like it, too. Beside you, he grumbled something in his sleep. His satin voice sounding gravelly. Your heart constricted at the sound of it, breath getting caught in your chest.

Is this what it feels like to be in love? You turned, lying on your back now, bashfully averting your gaze to the ceiling though he was still asleep. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, though your chest still felt tight and your lips had somehow configured themselves into a smile; a cocktail of conflicting emotions swelled in your chest and flooded your entire body. Instead of being repulsed by the feelings though, you found yourself basking in them, embracing the warmth that had settled just beneath your ribcage. Is this what it feels like to be in love? you asked yourself again. Really, truly in love?

“Y/N.” You heard the gravelly voice right in your ear, your smile grew.

“Hm?” you hummed in response, turning your head. Drowsy azure eyes stared back at you, his eyelids drooped. He smiled at the sight of your upturned lips.

“Y/N,” he repeated gently, despite already having your attention. It was as if he simply enjoyed hearing the word roll off his tongue. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” Two fingers tapped your temple questioningly.

You turned to lie on your side, body facing his now. “You slept all night last night,” you murmured in response.

“Like a baby.” He was grinning. “I had a dream that I was at home with my ma. You were there too. You were with me, in the forties—prior to my life going to shit,” he clarified with a good-natured smile, a breathy laugh leaving him. “God, I wish we could have known each other then. We would’ve had a lot of fun, you and I,” he winked.

Your nose wrinkled in response to his suggestive statement, in spite of your own true feelings. It made him laugh again.

“Really, I mean it! I would’ve taken you dancing, I was good dancer. What? What, you don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Your expression speaks volumes, doll,” he chided. “I mean it. I was really something. All the pretty girls wanted to have a dance with me—”

“What about the ugly ones?” you interrupted.

“There are no ugly ones in my book,” he answered with a devilish grin. “Anyways, everyone wanted to dance with me. I could jitterbug like nobody’s business….What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“What’s that face for?”

“What face?”

“That face,” he pointed to you, his forefinger flicking the tip of your nose playfully. He mocked your expression, eyebrows raising slightly and his eyes averting to other places in the room. “You don’t believe me, huh?”

You stared back at him innocently. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do!”

You would never understand how someone as muscular and brawny as Bucky could move so gracefully. So lithe and swift, though he appeared to be all callous and muscle. Before you could even register what was happening he had pulled you out of bed with him. One of his hands gripped yours, the other rested on your lower back. He pulled you close, pressing you against his bare chest. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Jesus, you could’ve just asked me to dance.”

The handsome man ignored your statement. “I’m rusty, alright. I haven’t danced in…” he paused, brows furrowing as his brain attempted to calculate the time that’s passed since he’s last had a dance, “years.” He began to sway with you, humming a tune that you weren’t familiar with.

“Look, you’re the one that insisted on showing off. I didn’t ask you to—”

He interrupted your statement by lifting you off the ground abruptly and swinging you around, an eruption of spontaneous ebbs of surprised laughter bubbling from your lips.

“The gals love that move,” he said as he placed you on the ground. “Spin.” And you did. He spun you out at arms length before you were returned to him again, his hand falling once again on your back. God, his smile was like the sun, a display of warmth and light. You wished to bask in it. Everything that was good in the world seemed to lie in that gleaming smile of his.

“What else would we do?” you asked, “If we had been together in the forties?” Suddenly he was no longer holding you, it was no longer a matter of dancing together. Your hand rested comfortably in his, your stiffened muscles had relaxed and you melted against him like butter in the heat. Suddenly the two of you had become one fluid apparatus, wavering together in the morning sun.

“We’d hang out with Steve, you would have met that punk before he was Captain America. He was a lil’ shrimp,” Bucky smiled. “Shrimp with a heart of gold. Oh man, he was such a punk. I mean, he still is…”

His voice trailed off as he fell into a ruminative state, his body still swaying with yours as he held you gently. You peered up at him with doting eyes, the backlight of the window gave him an incandescent glow. In his eyes was a distant, reminiscent look. It dawned upon you that perhaps this had some sort of cathartic effect for him. He rarely ever talked about the forties, though he had told a few unprompted stories from time to time. Mostly stories about the trouble that he and Steve would often get into.

“We would just dance though, mostly. We’d dance the night and day away, Y/N.” In his voice were hints of childlike whimsy, as if he hoped that perhaps that dream of his might someday become truth. “Imagine that, just me and my best friend….Just you and me.” He peered down at you, there were crinkles by his eyes.

An image of yourself and Bucky dancing the evenings away flitted into your mind’s eye. You hung onto the thought, an abashed blush warming your cheeks as you imagined a young, short haired, plucky Bucky. Oh, the fun the two of you might have had.

“Thank you for last night…Who knew Leonardo DiCaprio could be so boring?” He asked with a teasing smile. “He put me straight to sleep.”

You immediately bristled at the comment, “Don’t slander DiCaprio, Revolutionary Road is a good movie.”

In the late hours of the night, Bucky had come knocking at your door just as you began the DiCaprio flick, claiming that he couldn’t sleep. Being the good friend you were, you moved over for him and he curled up in your bed comfortably, as he often did.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he exhaled heavily through his nose. A chill ran down your spine, conflicting with the blossoming warmth in the pit of your stomach. You and Bucky had always been affectionate with one another, even at the start of your friendship. The two of you were drawn to one another like moths to a flame, no matter what you always found one another; an eternal return.

“Back up, Buck, I’m trying to watch a movie,” you chided, though you made no effort to push him away. Instead your fingers of your right hand threaded themselves into his hair, your left stroked his arm, which lay lazily across your stomach.

“What’s this even about anyways? Nothing’s really happening.” His voice was a muffled murmur.

“Maybe if you took a second and looked at the television, you’d know.”

“Fine, no need to get hostile.”

He was asleep within five minutes. You would’ve held him all night if you could have, but you feared it would be weird or result in some awkward awakening in the morning. So instead, you gently slid out from beneath him and took your position beside him. You watched him sleep. He was beautiful.

“Sure it is,” Bucky murmured doubtfully, avoiding your gaze purposefully. He didn’t attempt to hide his coy grin.

“You should probably go, we’ve got training this morning. I’ve gotta get ready. Both mentally and physically.”

Bucky rolled his eyes upwards to the heavens. “Fuck Steve and these early training sessions.” He was pouting now. You wondered if he was aware of the effect he had on you. “Why don’t we just stay here?”

“We both know you’ll be back in here tonight with the same ‘I can’t sleep, Y/N’ bullshit,” you teased, mocking his voice. “We can watch another DiCaprio movie.”

He pulled away from the shared embrace with apparent reluctance. “Fine…Catch you in the gym, doll.”

He headed for the door. Admiringly you stared at the skin of his bare back, the way his sweatpants were hanging lowly on his hips. Halfway out the door he stopped and turned to look back at you.

“Also, I want my shirt back.”

The door clicked shut and he was gone. You looked down at yourself, down at the oversized fabric that hung from your shoulders; Bucky’s shirt. A feeling of undeniable fondness flared in your chest. Is this love? It burned, but it felt right. The feeling would remain there until it seemed you could feel nothing else.

part 2

[sixmorningsafter]

The Sleep of the Righteous - a SMA Bamon post Snowpocalypse drabble

I adored the ask about sleeping positions and I was inspired to write a drabble. I have also been kind of desperate to write a bit of Damon because he seems like a real challenge compared to the other three. Just know that in this fic, he’s head over heels in love with Bon and consequently somewhat of a sap. In addition, I’ve given him an affectionate nickname that I totally stole from Ziya (@atonalremix) and her amazing fic – A Normal Life. For those that love the idea of an ethnicity switched warlock Damon, you should read this. I have a Steroline idea as well if people are interested.

***

For the third night in a row, Damon awoke in the small hours of the morning, a cold breeze blowing across his bare arse. If Bonnie hadn’t been so damn endearing, he probably would have killed her by now. Damon would never admit this, he had a rep as a bit of a party animal after all, but he needed his sleep. Admittedly, he tended to catch up at weekends, but a solid 6-7 hours on weekdays was better than any caffeine hit. He rolled over onto his side, languidly, eyes turned towards his petite bed companion. In true Bonnie style, she was curled up on her side resembling a foetus in her OBGYN textbooks. His duvet was wrapped entirely around her like a protective cocoon. An expensive cocoon, his bedding came from an exclusive boutique on Newbury Street where the thread counts were as high as the prices. He leant over gently pushing her hair from her eyes. Her face was peaceful in sleep, carefree and surprisingly youthful. He smiled; there was no way he was going to risk waking her by nicking his covers back. If Damon was a grinch on too little sleep, Bonnie was a grizzly bear woken too early from hibernation. He eased his lithe, naked frame from the bed. Maybe he needed to leave his heating on at night? It was habit picked up from one of a string of foster homes. These particular foster parents had been tight as a gnat’s chuff, seeing fostering as a cash injection rather than a vocation. But Damon being Damon had never complained, stubborn bastard that he was and had come to enjoy the feeling of sleeping under a huge pile of blankets with only the back of his neck exposed to the brisk night air. The skin on his arm puckered, hairs standing on end. He contemplated slipping into a T shirt and sweatpants as he didn’t own any pyjamas. Half of Bon’s wardrobe was comfy lounge wear; the idea of him not owning anything of that ilk perplexed her no end. He grinned remembering their argument about him keeping some pyjamas at her apartment “just in case”, of what he had no idea, maybe Stefan would get upset, being exposed to his Adonis-like perfection? Hadn’t seemed to bother him before. Anyway, whatever, he couldn’t sleep in clothes, he hated the restricted feeling. Sauntering into the second bedroom of his swanky apartment, Damon homed in on a large built cupboard that gave Caroline some serious real estate envy. At the very back lay a ratty old duvet that had seen better days, it’s bright, printed colours faded, it’s poly cotton surface worn smooth with years of use. He remembered the day he had acquired it like it was yesterday: “Tyler, bro, I’m not taking your spiderman duvet to college. People will laugh at me.” “But you need something to sleep under! Chicago winters are cold; it’s called the Windy City for a reason. And I know you won’t have any money to buy new stuff. Margaret and Jeff made it pretty clear they weren’t helping you out. Besides I’m 14, it’s not cool anymore.” “I suppose I could pass it off as an ironic retro statement, but Ty, your mom gave you that duvet.” “I know,” Tyler’s eyes had flickered for a millisecond. “Let me do this, Day. You’re my brother.” “Okay, well, I promise to look after it for you until you want it back.” He had pulled Tyler into a manly hug, studiously ignoring the sheen in the younger boy’s eyes, a pang of guilt that he was leaving him in that hell hole and moving on with his life. He would never admit to Tyler that his gift had probably saved his life on a couple of occasions when he had had sleep in his car in sub-zero temperatures. Ironic that tonight it would save him from Bonnie’s murderous urges should he try and ferret back under the covers. Without further ado, Damon slid back into bed, naked as the day his was born. He settled himself on his stomach, arms under his pillow and drifted off into a deep sleep.

*** 

AN: Damon may or may not have gone to college in Chicago, but that’s what he told the authorities he was doing so he could slip out of the foster system. Maybe this is why he has two identities?

LMAO CAN I JUST SAY I totally called that a drabble would come out of that ask? CALLED IT! And I’m so, so, so happy it did! This was adorable from start to finish - I realized I haven’t actually written any future/established Bamon yet and unsurprisingly, you totally nailed it anyway. The contrast in pajama situations was hilarious, as was Bonnie being the real threat on not enough sleep. Super IC. And re: his sappiness, I aaaabsolutely see Damon as a smitten planet orbiting the fierce, tiny little sun that is Bonnie once they get together, so sappiness all the way! You’re definitely right, he can be one of the trickier PoVs to slip into (particularly at first), and it can be tough to reveal things about him without making it feel unnatural, but you did it beautifully! Loved the rumination on the foster homes and the lack of heating and how he was always too much of a stubborn asshole to complain - trrrueeeee life. And needless to say I loooooooooved the Tyler/Damon stuff! And the nickname was so, so cute! Ugh, all the brother feels. I’ve been marathoning The Fosters and it’s been giving me Tyler/Damon feels LIKE WHOA (like I would love to write a whole series about them in their teens, man) so this drabble couldn’t be better timed. I actually haven’t really figured out Damon’s college situation, but I’ve thought about it a bit. It’s either being tackled in chapter 15 or 16, but your interpretation is super possible! Anyway, this made my day and I love these drabbles so, so much, man. Y’all don’t even know. Please give this and Janet the love they deserveeeeee, guys!

[pointedly-foolish]

[ dσn’t run frσm mє rívєr ]

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

a/n: ya boi is an idiot who made more wips than he could handle,,,, but anyway i wanted to write a nines fic because,,,,,,,,,,,, idk inspiration struck? i must admit i had no idea where i was going w this fic skfksfjaskdfhjk btw nines is deviant in this fic, i just have a hc that since he was forced into deviancy (unlike the 3 protagonists who reached some sort of catharsis) he isn’t as familiar with emotions as those 3, hence his difficulty identifying and expressing them. also rk800-60 and rk900 have assigned names, being colin (nickname sixty) and conan (nickname nines) respectively. connor is just connor lmao,,,,, i am god in my fics and i decide that my 3 bois are bros and happy lil deviants,,,, mk, go!

the ambiance inside the bar was loud and suffocating. many people came to celebrate an officer’s promotion to detective, and while nines wasn’t particularly close to them, he showed up regardless (although a certain duo of rk800 models may or may not have had something to do with his decision). mere formalities; he politely congratulated them and stepped away to ruminate on his own in a corner, absently watching the scene in front of him. for a reason that escaped him, he was (disappointed?) (hurt?) that you got along with colin. he still experienced anomalies in his system when near you, even after being told that he was perfectly fine at the maintenance centre. if the problem wasn’t from within, then there was only one probable cause: an outside factor. a recurring event. one that triggered these anomalies. you.

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

while you have taken to your new partner wonderfully, he wasn’t as gracious with his. between reed’s incessant snide remarks and overall unwillingness to cooperate, he’d much rather be deactivated. he found himself missing your partnership. for one, your cooperativeness was a relief. you were determined, passionate and kind. truthfully, he missed you. the shine in your eyes when you find a lead, your composure and professionalism, the soothing quality of your voice, the way you’d let you hand linger in his, how your features softened when you smiled—smiled at hi— he caught himself. why did that last part come to mind? how did you still manage to affect him when you’re so far away? he was about to check why when a laughter caught his attention. your wonderful laughter. One he was oh so familiar with. you were laughing with his brother, probably at another of his bad jokes. seeing you happy with him stirred an ugly feeling inside him. one that he did not recognise nor acknowledge. one that caused him to glare at his older counterpart.

he was miserable after parting ways from you, having to deal with reed’s complaining. he was hurt, he was away from you and it didn’t feel right. this distance between you two manifested as physical pain on his part, so how come you were fine? how were you able to move on in your life as if nothing happened? sadness and hurt turned into something more despicable: how dare you not feel the same pain he did? seeing you so happy twisted the knife deeper in his heart. how could you? conflicting emotions; he wanted to see you happy. he also wanted to see you suffer with him.

his glowering must’ve been pretty obvious as connor “addressed” him, asking if he was alright, to which he replied with a curt « all systems fully functional ». clearly the wrong answer as the rk800 frowned slightly and asked him to follow him. nines did as told. you watched him as he left, but he’d never know that.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between me and the detective. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get [ ᶠᴵᴿˢᵀ ᴺᴬᴹᴱ ]’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

a sudden rage took over nines’ body as he pushed colin out of the doorway and stormed back inside the bar. a few beats passed before connor threw a chastising look at his twin, which colin shrugged nonchalantly to.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”. date1 /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested). technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not blind, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

watching you hurt inside because of him was worse than any punishment he could’ve received. any and all previous wishes for you to suffer was quickly erased. he’s much rather suffer alone than watch you break. he took hesitant steps back. away from you. distancing himself from you. you noticed his actions and whispered a desperate « nines… please… » he wanted to run away. he wanted to stay. he wanted to leave and pretend this conversation never happened. he wanted to hold you and tell you everything: his fears, his doubts, his growing affection for you. in the end, he found himself running away from his problems like a coward. you didn’t bother to chase after him, desperately crying out « please… please don’t run from me conan. », last part choked out as you tried to hold yourself together. hearing your voice crack and waver because of him was awful. he wanted to turn back. comfort you. But his body didn’t obey him. when he finally stopped to pay attention to where he was going, he was right back at his shared flat. he swallowed dryly and moved to enter his house, a solemn air around him.

the next few days were absolutely torturous. he increased his initiative to avoid you, never seen in the same place as you, much to your chagrin. an act so blatant than someone as ignorant as reed noticed, an act that become the core of his recent round of taunts. avoiding you hurt. so why did he continue to do it? the thought of approaching the subject made him go cold. it immobilised him, stopped him from uttering a single word. a quick search told him he was scared. nervous. for rejection. he doesn’t know if his heart could take much more. he does resolve to tell you one day… just… not today…

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to be shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

the clock ticked. and ticked. and ticked. when finally, the surgeon informed the two that you were alright. they managed to take out all the bullets. your condition was stable. you were ok. heavily sedated and going to be in a lot of pain. but you were ok. nines didn’t stop the heavy sigh of relief that escaped him. the doctor told them that visits will be allowed as soon as you were settled in recovery. he was going to tell you. he told himself, like an unspoken promise. he was going to tell you then. it’s the least you deserve. he was going to apologise and come clean. hopefully you’ll have it in you to forgive him.

when you finally came to, your body ached, you didn’t want to move, so you settled with eyeing your room. what happened? you were chasing this guy… and he pulled out a gun… pain and then darkness. and now you’re here. the recovery room was filled with gifts and get-well soon cards. balloons of assorted colours filled the room, bouquets of diverse types of flowers adorned the table.

« you’re awake. »

you turned your head at the source, seeing connor at the doorway. « how—you cleared your throat—how long was i gone for? you asked, voice raspy. – around 3 days and a half. you’d gain consciousness a few times, but you were too heavily sedated to be fully coherent. he explained as he took a seat near the bed. you groaned. – gosh that long? connor nodded. how’s colin? – doing pretty well all things considered. he does, however, feel immensely guilty about failing to protect you. – well, tell him it’s not his fault and that i forgive everything he’s blaming himself with. you worried about him. despite sixty’s mischievous exterior, he had a tendency to get himself stuck in a depressive loop of self-deprecation. connor smiled graciously. – will do… he placed a paper cup filled with what you assumed was thirium on the floor. how are you feeling? – everything hurts but i’ll live, you quipped. » the android chuckled and was about to reply when a knock caught both of your attention. the door creaked slightly open, as nines peered in. he hesitated before asking if he may speak with you. the “alone” part being left unsaid as connor bid you farewell and left.

you and your former partner were locked in an intense stareoff, you on the bed on one end and him glued to the door on the other. he took tentative steps towards you. closing that distance. when he was besides your bed, he nervously called out your name. you parroted him, mustering out a curt « conan. » he took a deep breath that he technically didn’t need and whispered out an apology: « i… i’m sorry. for everything i’ve caused—for all the hurt i’ve caused… for what it’s worth… i never meant for all this to happen. » his voice was clipped as guilt overcame him. you watched him, silent as ever. he wished you would say something, anything. the silence was deafening.

« then please tell me why… he promised himself that he’d come clean. – i… i don’t… i don’t think i know... for sure… i experienced anomalies in my system when i was around you.. you’d consume my every thought, i’d feel immobilised and i… i’ve been told that i’m being nervous… i’ve been told that i harboured romantic feelings for you… i-i don’t know. i… i yearn for your attention, your touch, your affection… but is it right for something like me to desire such a thing? am-am i broken…? his voice was barely a whisper when he choked out the lay part, and he waited for his response, growing more anxious as each second ticked by. what if you didn’t want him? what if he wasn’t enough? – no, you aren’t broken. you shook your head. just human. »

nines. confident and assured nines was an insecure and trembling mess as he poured out all of the doubts that plagued his mind. your heart aches as you wished to comfort him, so you do. you reached out, best you can, and grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. an action that took him by surprised as he stiffened at your touch. but he soon relaxed and carefully snaked his arms around your waist, returning the hug. you slowly caressed his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

you both stay like this for a moment, relishing in each others presence, before you spoke up again: « it’s okay to be unsure, you know. he stopped his nuzzling, indicating to you that he was listening. if you don’t feel ready at the moment… if you just wanna be friends for the time being, i’m ok with that. and if one day you decide that you want to be more, just remember i’ll be right here. » you pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and stayed in that position for a while, neither wanting to part ways, but this awkwardly positioned hug took a toll on your back so the both of you half heartedly pulled away from each other. hands holding the other’s, you asked for one more request: « just promise me one thing. – anything, he breathed out. – please… don’t ever run from me again. – never. he promised, fully intending to fulfill said request. »

« thank you. »

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my other works