#as much anymore. i mean it still happens but its not being triggered every day at school anymore which is great

[wigglepiggle]

what a great day to remember that I'm so glad I'm not in middle school anymore it's over it's over it's over it's been over for awhile but cod I'm so glad I'm free

[billluver0124]

"once more to see you.."

Narrators POV:

Imagine being who you are and being open about it. Having pride in who you've become when you entered this world and not living in fear. Sounds great right? I wonder what it's like too.

I hope you are brave enough to be who you are and love whoever the hell you want. Since I couldn't, being afraid made me lose the only person that could fill the empty void I had for so long. That void becomes bigger and bigger everyday. I'm losing hope for love.

It all started back in 2007...

"fuck.." he moaned out, the feeling of y/n grinding his neediness on Bill's lap was driving him nuts. He pulls y/n in, entrapping them in a wet passionate kiss. But this little make out was cut short with the sound of Bill's mother coming home.

"s-shit!" he muttered, pushing y/n to leave Bill's room through the windows, So his mom wouldn't see y/n. So no one would see him. So no one would see two boys making out; two boys in love.

This whole thing had been happening for months now, y/n and bill would meet up somewhere private and be themselves with each other, hold each other, kiss each other. But it all had to stay private because the world can't handle something like that. Two people of the same gender, being in love.

Especially not for Bill, he had a reputation to uphold. Being a musician has its pros, but with every pro comes double the cons. One wrong move and his entire career is over, it's like one long excruciating game of poker. But instead of gambling money, you're gambling your entire life. He's gotta play the cards right to stay in the game, if not, he could lose everything. But he's not gay...y/n and him are just friends...right?

The next day they met up again,what's so special about that? they do it every day, kiss, hug, make out? but this time was different, y/n just had to say what was on his mind today...the last time Bill would ever speak to y/n ever again.

"what is this?" he blurted out, holding it in was eating him alive. "what're you talking about?" asked Bill, his confused eyebrow making an appearance. "this..us..why are we still hiding?" y/n spoke, his eyes pleading for Bill to answer. "we're not hiding from anything..we're friends, just hanging out y'know?" y/n's stomach dropped to his ass. Just friends..? "friends don't do the things we do Bill.." "well we aren't together..I'm not gay y/n you know that." Hearing Bill say those words triggered tears in y/n's eyes. "so I don't mean anything to you..? at all?" Bill started to get annoyed now "what the hell are you even talking about?" "Bill, you told me you loved me..we've kissed, made out, we've cuddled..I even trusted you so much I let you touch my body bare..naked. That means nothing to you?"

"It's just something me and you do..it's a casual thing we do." Broken glass, the sound similar to y/n's own heart breaking by Bill's words. the sound of broken glass.

"why are you so afraid?" "what?" Bill was caught off guard by y/n's question. "why are you so afraid of this..of us?" he asked, "we could run away to a place where we don't have to hide anymore Bill..go on walks in the cities together..not having to hide anymore. I'm tired of hiding Bill." Bill started to become really annoyed, "dude I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but I'm not gay, we aren't together and the things we do are just casual things..we aren't in love y/n." he said those words so carelessly, like it doesn't have an impact on y/n's feelings. y/n stood there trying so hard to keep the tears back. "my career and reputation is more important than this..than you."

then he just couldn't hold it back anymore. the tears just started falling. "if that hurts your feelings, then go." y/n didn't say anything back, he just turned around and went back home.

Bill didn't mean anything he said, but he just can't admit who he really is. He's afraid..

It had now been one week since the fight. Y/n hadn't showed up to school..matter of fact he hasn't shown up anywhere. Bill was becoming worried. After all, he still cared about y/n. After school, Bill walked to y/n's house. Hoping to see him again and fix everything, resolve everything. But that hope was cut short almost immediately. "y/n passed away a few nights ago.." Y/n's mother said. "w-what..?" Bill felt his whole world collapse, this cant be true. "yeah, he committed suicide..I'm sorry." "n-no its okay! I'm so sorry you lost your son. I wish you well" That was the last thing Bill said to y/n's mother. He ended up not sleeping that night. He now has to live his life without y/n, without the love of his life; the person he was so afraid of loving.

It has now been seventeen years since y/n passed, everyone has moved on. maybe even forgot about him, but not Bill. He gives with a sense of pure guilt for the rest of his life. "hey y/n, it's me Bill!..the band has been super successful and we've gone on so many tours sometimes I wish I had a break..y'know, a break with you." Bill laid a bouquet of flowers on the grave, hoping y/n would accept the flowers in the afterlife.

Bills POV:

"I'm so sorry..." I sobbed as the tears flew from my eyes, If only I wasn't such a fucking coward. he would still be here, we could've had a life together; a really good life together, but I didn't want it. Because I was afraid of what everyone else would think of me. If only I was proud of who I was, just like y/n was. If only I told him my true feelings that night and not what I needed to tell myself in order to feel "normal". Then he would still be here..

I would see him one more time.

AUTHORS NOTE: hey guys! I've been on a break but I've decided to come back! I might not post as often as I used to because I've been working on small little film projects here and there, but I will be posting again! I know this one is not good Im a little rusty. But I hope y'all enjoy!

[onceuponastory]

the day i lost you - bucky barnes x reader

Still remember how you taste Somewhere in the bitter and the sweet dream Do you think of me standing in a summer haze? When we were gonna be okay? - january rain by PVRIS

Plot: In the aftermath of The Blip and her boyfriend Bucky turning to dust, Y/N finds a voicemail from him... sent the day she lost him. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, or at least Bucky is presumed dead (obviously we know Bucky isn't dead but we all thought he was after Infinity War, let's be honest) and grief. And of course, some angst. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is for @whumptober Day 24. I used the prompt: "Goodbye Note". I also combined it with the @angstober "The Day I Lost You" prompt. I was once again sad and listening to PVRIS as I wrote this, so now you can be too :)

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Stepping over the threshold into her apartment, Y/N drops her bags to the floor with a tired groan. The rain still pounds down outside, the sound echoing through the building. As a personal assistant to Tony Stark himself, Y/N’s working life is extremely busy. And since The Blip, she’s busier than ever, constantly being pulled into meetings with little time for herself. For the past few weeks, she’s been away at a conference with the surviving Avengers, working on a solution to The Blip. This is the first time she’s had to breathe in about a year. And that also means it’s the first time she’s been home since it all happened, since her boyfriend and some of her best friends turned to dust.

And she’s never felt so alone.

Of course, Y/N knows that dating an Avenger, let alone the Winter Soldier himself, comes with its own risk. Especially the risk he may never come home. But although it’s always been at the back of her mind, seeping into her every thought whilst he’s away on a mission… Bucky came back safe so many times that the worry dissipated. Foolishly, she believed he was indestructible, and that he’d always come home to her.

Until he didn’t.

Tears spring at her eyes then, and she furiously tries to wipe them away. She’s done enough grieving over the last year. Enough hoping that he’s coming back, only to end up disappointed. There’s only so much pain you can take before you can’t go on anymore. And Y/N crossed that line a long time ago.

The red light on her answering machine blinks back at her, and she sighs, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opens them, the light will be gone. But no matter how hard she tries, it’s still there, and she groans. The last thing she wants to hear right now is more “I’m sorry to hear about Bucky” and “We understand how much it hurts, but he’s in our thoughts.” Nobody will ever understand how much it hurts. Even the other Avengers. 

Because Bucky isn’t just in her thoughts. He’s everywhere. He still occupies the empty space in her bed, his laughter still fills the halls, his singing echoing from the shower. He’s the whisper in the wind, the faint scent of his cologne whenever she enters a room, and that still clings to her clothing like a safety blanket. He’s the shiver up her spine, the faint feeling of a hand holding hers, an arm wrapped around her waist.

It’s like he never even left.

Y/N presses the button, bracing herself for the onslaught of messages to come. “Hey sweetheart. It’s me-” As soon as she hears her mother’s voice, Y/N deletes the message. She’ll deal with her and her incessant questions later. She means well, of course, they all do. But the last thing she wants is to be pestered, reminded of her pain over and over again. They may mean well, but there’s nothing they can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. The other message is boring, a message about her car’s extended warranty that gets deleted almost immediately.

But when she hears the voice in the next message, she collapses to her knees. “Hey doll.” Bucky speaks. It's the first time she’s heard his voice - actually heard it - since he left. As soon as she hears him speak, she can see the smile on his face, and hear the laughter in his tone. Her presence always brought a smile to Bucky's face, even on his worst days. Because he loves her. …Loved her.

Hearing Bucky’s voice again, so soon after losing him, causes all her pent-up emotions to erupt, a year's worth of pain spilling over. As the first of her sobs break through, Bucky’s voice continues. “Just checking in to see how you are and keep you updated. Steve and the others are here…”

“Why didn’t I answer the call? I could’ve stopped them!”

“... and we have a game plan now to stop this asshole. Before you know it, I’ll be back home in New York with you, my favourite girl.” Her chest heaves, and she sobs even harder. “I miss you so much, though. The guys keep pestering me about it, but I don’t care. I love you, Y/N, and I want the entire world to know.” That sends her over the edge. A painful, anguished wail rips through her, the sound filling the room. Y/N’s full body shakes, and she clutches at her chest. “I hope you’re doing well and staying out of trouble.” Bucky chuckles. “Keep me updated. But I’ll see you soon enough, anyway.” 

“Why didn’t I answer? Why didn’t I answer?!”

“I better go, Steve’s shouting at me. Think the mission is about to start.” 

Y/N sits up, trying to grab the phone to dial Bucky’s number and tell him she’s still here, that she still loves him. Hoping that he’s there on the other side, waiting for her.

“Bye doll. See you soon. Love you always.” And then, the line goes dead, the dull beeping noise going right through her. Picking up the phone, she dials Bucky’s number, holding it to her ear as her heart pounds.

“Please… please…” she begs. "Just answer me Bucky... please."

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Hey! This is Bucky. I can’t talk right now, and I don’t really know how these things work.” He chuckles, the sound forming a small glimpse of warmth in her belly, and Y/N even laughs softly too. She was there when he recorded that message, her best efforts to teach him the wonders modern technology still not sinking in. Not that it matters now, though. None of it does. She just wants him back. “So I guess if you leave a message, I’ll call you back?”

And he always called her back. Even if it was a day, a week or even a month late. Bucky always called her back. But he won’t call back. Not this time. 

She tries to speak, to say something, anything, to Bucky's voicemail. If there's even a chance he could hear it, she wants him to know how much she loves him, and how much she misses him. Yet she can't say anything through her tears.

When the call disconnects, Y/N sinks to her knees, huddling into a ball as the sobs rack through her entire body. 

She’s alone again. 

And she always will be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[pooks]

You know what would be really funny? If Ichiji and Sanji are bickering over something silly and Ichiji takes a step towards Sanji with his hands raised a bit and Sanji flinches So Hard that he falls down and curls up on himself to protect his hands. Even better if it's after WCI, all Sanji can see is the bright red hair and the hands that used to hurt him so much when they were younger, and suddenly he's a toddler again, and his big brother is trying to break him.

Ichiji sees the way Sanji reacts to him, and he just breaks down. He's a monster again, and then he's 8 and hurting his little brother again, punching him, dragging him, breaking his precious hands that were made to create.

Sanji's reaction to being in stressful situations is to either cook a weeks worth of food or, if it's worse, he just dissociates, almost catatonic, for a few hours or the whole day. The strawhats had never seen the second state, but it happens often after WCI. And they never know what triggers it

Ichiji just cries for a bit, and then his face does this thing where you can't see any emotions at all, and spends the next few days in the library, working like there's no tomorrow. That also happens a lot more after WCI

That would he funny

(I have an hc that the poison Sora took did two things: worsen the modifications in the other three, making them basically emotionless, and also made Sanji experience every emotions but times a 100 in intensity. Ichiji gets better, but not quite, more like Reiju, but he gets Really protective of Sanji when he realizes how much Sanji feels)

Ooof, straight into the angst, I see? Thank you for the ask and here's my take;

(CWs for past child abuse, self-harm, suicidal ideation)

Sanji deals with this by stress-cooking & baking, it's his "happy place" so to say and it calms him down, allowing him to reflect on what just happened and think in a more rational way.

Ichiji doesn't have that luxury, he's mediocre at cooking/baking and he has servere self-worth issues. Post-WCI, he has unresolved suicidal ideation. Seeing his little brother react like that made him more convinced that he was a still irredeemable monster.

He locks himself in the library for days, he tries to use his writing as an outlet but it doesn't work out. Ichiji decides that he needs a physical outlet and he had vowed to never lay a finger on Sanji since they ran away from Germa first time. He gets the dangerous idea to take it out on the person he hates the most; himself. Once he gets that idea, it's stuck in his head.

Remember when Nami stabbed her arm when she was betrayed by Arlong in East Blue Saga? Ichiji is worse. Suddenly, he isn't at the Sunny anymore and he's back at Germa, strapped to a medical chair and is "experimented" on (read: tortured). Ichiji is back in his old mindset that he deserves the pain.

(This being post-WCI means that Ichiji's mental wellbeing is at its' lowest. And it got worse after seeing "Vinsmoke Ichiji" on his updated wanted poster.)

He eventually runs out of space on his arms (littered by fresh and half-healed scars). He leaves nothing on his hands because even in the depths of his self-harm breakdown, he can't bear to hurt his hands because of what Zeff taught him.

Running out of "self-harm space" means that Ichiji wakes up from his daze and realizes what he has done. He knows that he'll get an infection if leaves this untreated and sneaks into the infirmary. Well, he makes a lousy spy in this current state and Chopper freaks out when he sees what Ichiji has done to himself.

When asked what happened, Ichiji only responds "nothing happened". Chopper notices that Ichiji looks at himself and seems to be disgusted by himself and understands that Ichiji had a breakdown. He treats his open wounds properly and bandages them.

What happens then is that Chopper doesn't leave Ichiji unsupervised and ask the others to not let him out of their sight either. It's sorta an open secret amont the straw hats that Ichiji dehumanizes himself and believes everyone's better off without him.

Sanji eventually finds out what Ichiji did to himself and he wants to reach his older brother, but he doesn't know how to approach something like this. Out of options that won't make Ichiji probably worse or try to run away, Sanji decides to call Zeff on the den-den mushi.

They kinda bicker at each other for a long while until Sanji tells about WCI. He's shocked that Zeff already knew about Vinsmoke and what Judge did (since Ichiji told him many years ago and kept this away from Sanji). Zeff asks Sanji firmly to get Ichiji on the line, so they can talk.

Sanji doesn't know what Ichiji and Zeff talks about, but Ichiji cries a lot. He also catches on that Ichiji, even in his self-harm daze, never harmed his hands. It's very heartwarming that Ichiji took Zeff's lessons to heart.

Zeff acts like a mediator between them (read; tired dad who's sick of his stupid sons bickering). He also tells them to talk about their problems with grown men instead of acting like stupid brats. And the usual "don't make me go to the Grand Line to kick some sense in you!" and they know that he can, peg leg or not.

After the call ended, Sanji makes pan-fried seafood risotto (it's their comfort food). Ichiji tells Sanji that he wasn't going to hit him and he'd rather die than to do that again. Sanji quietly asks him if that was what he was trying to do.

Ichiji tells him the truth; he doesn't know why he did that to his arms, all he knew was that he was no longer on the Sunny (mentally) and finds the courage to tell what he endured for six months. What Judge did to him, as part of their "deal". It's a pretty heartwrenching discussion, both of them cries and hugs each other.

(At some point, Zoro walks in to get booze, sees them crying and hugging each other...and promptly walks out again. He felt this was something too personal for him to get involved with. Such an awkward marimo.)

For the next couple of days, Ichiji and Sanji are hardly far away from each other. Ichiji has moved his "writing session" to on deck, sitting by a small table with his typewriter (he uses a rock on his papers, to avoid them flying off to the seas). Sanji is doing laundry nearby and he likes the sound of Ichiji's clattering typewriter.

Also I like your headcanon, but also have my own; Ichiji always had emotions from the start, he was just manipulated and gaslighted that he didn't have any. In many ways, he was similiar to Reiju but add to the fact that he didn't know what emotions was and all he knew was that having emotions was strictly forbidden in Germa.

Also if you look closely in the flashbacks, Ichiji is somehow always standing next to Sanji (which breaks how they're supposed to be lined up in chronological order). Whenever they are lined up, sitting next to him in classroom, etc. And his eyebrows are the same as Reiju (and not like Njii or Yonji), but it isn't very noticable because of his hair covering one eye.

Anyways, thank you for the ask. :3

[kingdaddydaichi]

☆ title: redefining (ch. 11) | ( ch. 10 ) ☆ ( ch. 12 - wip )

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 2.5k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 11-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: sfw. cop!daichi. mutual pining. angst. domestic disturbance. fear. idk like, the way daichi talks to subi might come across as patriarchal? but it's the way i feel like daichi would speak to him under the specific circumstances, how he knew he would get through to him. i am deeply sorry for the massive real-life time gap between chapters //sob. but i'm committed to finishing this series. my love for daichi and this story is settled deep inside my bones. I'M BACK BITCHES /aff 🫶🏼

she's falling in love now losing control now fighting the truth trying to hide but i think it's alright, girl yeah i think it's alright, girl

losin control - russ

Life can be a rip-roaring bitch sometimes, y'know?

The first week or so after your fallout with Daichi had been relatively easy. The fact that you were still angry at him helped a lot more than you'd have liked to admit. The battle to get him off your mind was constant, but all you had to do was remember the way his eyebrows angled inward when he yelled at you. You’d never seen him like that before and it had scared you, triggering your fight or flight response on top of the heart-wrenching pain of seeing him being a little too friendly with his ex.

But what you kept pushing down with all of your might was the fact that daichi was right. He had called you on everything you’d worked so hard to hide from him. The fact that he’d seen you so clearly scared you more than the look in his eyes when he raised his voice at you. He had been angry, yes. But a lot of hurt had weaved its way into his words as well.

Halfway through the second week, however, things started to go downhill. You found yourself reaching for your phone a couple of times to tell Daichi about something ridiculous or funny that had happened only for your fingers to stop short as your heart sank.

Oh. right. I'm not supposed to do that anymore.

You’d even tried venting to Suga about Daichi in hopes that he would validate you, but he wasn’t as sympathetic towards your plight as you would’ve liked: “But isn’t this what you wanted?” he'd said. “You’ve been saying that whatever the hell was going on between you two had an expiration date…” “You’re right. It’s probably better this way so you and Daichi can each find the people you wanna be with...” That last one had really dug deep - the thought of Daichi with anyone else made your heart splinter and your stomach wretch. But you had swallowed your heartache down with the lump in your throat and nodded with a meek “Yeah, exactly,” knowing deep in your bones that you didn’t mean a word of it. Suga knew it too.

The week after that was the week from hell. Crying in bed every night because you missed Daichi so much was made that much worse by your shitty week. Life could’ve just given you a normal week but NOPE. Every single day, multiple times a day, you’d pick up your phone to send him an angry text about your boss or the rude ass lady at the grocery store. Or the fact that some really, really important notarized legal documents got lost in the mail. Three trips to UPS, two trips to the post office, and $91.00 later the paperwork finally reached its intended destination via next day air. You wanted to ask him to arrest the incompetent twat who put your mailer on the wrong truck in the first place and then smile at his reaction. To top it all off, your son’s behavior had hit an all-time low. You’d been hoping that it would’ve improved after the disciplinary hearing, which Subi had attended as well but, if anything, his behavior at home had gotten worse too.

You wanted to call Daichi. You wanted him to come over and hold you as you curled into a ball against his chest. To feel his hands in your hair and his lips on your forehead telling you that ‘everything’s gonna be okay’. Because you’d believe it If Daichi was the one saying it. He’d make sure of it. But you couldn’t do any of those things and it made you cry. Like getting kicked when you’re already down.

Daichi didn’t have it much better. 

He’d called and apologized to Yui, who had called him a “fucking asshole”. There was the drunk driver who had puked on him while doing his field sobriety test (he probably deserved that, he’d guessed). Then there was the day he got stuck directing traffic in a torrential downpour. The police-issued waterproof ponchos had done nothing for his wet socks and the sloshing in his shoes. 

There were also all the little annoying things that kept happening to him - his washing machine quit working (mid-cycle, no less), he got a flat tire (in a different torrential downpour), he stubbed his toe one morning while getting out of bed (talk about a rude awakening) - nothing too serious but just enough to piss him off. 

The worst of it was finding out his mom had to be hospitalized for Covid. She had to be on oxygen, but the prognosis was good. She was expected to be okay and eventually make a full recovery, but of course it made him worry about her nonetheless.

And through every bit of it, you were on his mind. He missed you something fierce. But some of the things you’d said still weighed on his heart:

“...how cruel can you be?” “You’re not even my type.” “Just go back in there and fuck your ex-girlfriend!”

That last one had hurt the most. Did you really think that lowly of him to think he’d do that to you? 

To be fair, he also remembered some of the things he’d said to you:

“Would you have liked it better if i’d introduced you as my fuck buddy…?” “What? Not toxic enough for ya?” “...you don’t have to be a jealous girlfriend about it…!”

They made him cringe every time he remembered. Sometimes the words you had thrown at each other kept him up at night.

Tonight was one of those nights…

Daichi was reading in bed, trying to take his mind off of you when his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Thinking it must be work-related at this time of night, he picked it up to see who was calling. When he saw your name on the screen, his heart wanted to claw its way out of his chest. What could you possibly want? Best case scenario was you wanted to apologize, but that could wait until tomorrow. If you didn’t want him to make you a priority anymore, he was going to honor that. Worst case scenario was you were reaching out to him for another booty call, and he was done with that. 

Either way, he let your call go to voicemail, but just as he was about to put his phone back down, your text came through as three little numbers:

911

Daichi sat bolt upright and immediately tapped the call button. Halfway through the first ring, you answered. “Daichi?” You were crying and he could hear a young man’s voice yelling in the background.

He sat forward in his seat, wide brown eyes darting this way and that. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Subi,” you cried. There was a loud bang accompanied by a muffled sob from you. “He threatened to hurt me and now he’s throwing things…”

Before you could say anything else, daichi was on his feet, throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading for his front door. “You at home?”

“Y-yes.” you were crying so hard you were wheezing. “Daichi, please…please help?”

“I’m on my way.” His voice was remarkably low and stern and comforting as he told you to go inside your bedroom, lock the door, and stay there. He made sure you didn’t have any injuries and stayed on the phone with you for the 10 mins it took for him to get there. It normally took twice that long to drive from his place to yours, but he had his blue lights on, going well over the speed limit. 

“Daichi, I’m so scared,” you sobbed. 

“I’m almost there, (y/n). Just five more minutes. Come on, deep breaths.” He talked you down enough that you weren’t crying as hard. “Alright, I’m here. Do you know if he’s still in the house?” 

“Yeah, I can hear him. But the front door is locked.” 

“Do you feel safe enough to come out of your room and open it?” 

You’d heard Subi’s voice getting further away and the slamming of his bedroom door. “Yeah, I think so.” 

You slowly came out of your room and hurried to the front door, nearly collapsing in Daichi’s arms when you swung it open. He hugged you and told you everything was okay. He walked inside slowly, noticing some broken glass and other, obviously thrown, objects on the floor, and called your son’s name. Your pre-teen came out of his bedroom to find a man he didn’t recognize standing in the living room. 

“Who’re you?” he asked. 

“I’m Daichi, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Musubi.” 

Musubi narrowed his eyes at him and shrugged in response. 

“What’s been going on, man?” 

Your son crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s none of your business.” 

Daichi’s dark brown eyes remained steady on him. “Well, seeing as how your mom is my friend and she’s scared and crying, I’d say it is my business.” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s not that big of a deal-“ 

“Wrong again. Your mom doesn’t feel safe in her own home. That’s a problem. It’s just the two of you living here, right?” 

Subi shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Then that makes you man of the house, doesn’t it?” 

Your son’s eyes met Daichi’s for the first time since he first spoke to him. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“And as the man of the house, don’t you think it’s your job to protect everyone in it, including your mom?” 

The boy didn’t respond, but his facial muscles relaxed as he maintained eye contact with Daichi. He had his undivided attention now. He was speaking to him man to man and your son was listening intently. 

“It’s a big responsibility to be in your position,” Daichi went on, nodding towards you. “Your mother and her safety are under your watch. She doesn’t feel safe with you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be protecting her.” The off-duty police officer's voice remained calm and even as he tilted his head. “So tell me, Musubi: do you really think you’re qualified to be man of the house?” 

You watched and listened with awe as Daichi took command over the situation, showing Subi what it means to be in full control. He leveled with your son while making him feel validated and understood. Rather than telling Subi how he should talk to you, Daichi did far more by showing him what it means to be a good man; he was teaching Subi how to treat others with respect in the way he spoke to him - by demonstrating to him that you get respect from others by being respectable.

Your son’s gaze fell under the weight of Daichi’s words. His beliefs about what it means to be a “man” had just been challenged and shaken to the core. He thought it meant being loud and aggressive, lording over others, calling the shots and expecting others to submit to him - no doubt all the tactics he’d learned from watching his father. 

“You think you’re in control here? Because, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.” The boy’s gaze followed Daichi’s as he looked around at the broken items in the room before looking over at you, still trembling and sniffling. “If you lose control, it means you don’t have it, Musubi. It’s that simple. Do we have an understanding?” 

The boy’s eyes locked with Daichi’s again and he nodded. 

“Good man. Now,” Daichi said with quiet authority, “Clean up the mess you made.” It wasn’t a request.

“Yes, sir,” Subi murmured as he started picking up the pieces. 

You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your son’s mouth. Yes, sir? You looked up at Daichi - The Musubi Whisperer - wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Never even raised his voice and had him under his complete command. 

“(Y/n), can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” Daichi said it just loudly enough that your son could hear how his mother should be talked to - by asking, not demanding. 

“Of course.” You followed Daichi until your son was out of earshot, then whispered, “How the fuck did you just do that?” 

Daichi shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of experience. Oldest of 5 kids. Team captain. Cop.” You smiled and nodded, wiping the last of your tears away. He put a tentative hand on your shoulder. “You okay, (y/n)?” 

“I think so,” you sniffed, wiping your freshest tear away with your shirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you, but you were the first person i thought of-” 

Daichi shook his head and pulled you into his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you called me.”

Whether it was the catharsis from the highly charged situation or your need to feel Daichi close was irrelevant when you fastened yourself to him. Before you could think, your arms were around his waist and your head tucked against his chest. 

“Thank you,” you said, your shaky voice muffled by the warmth and weight of Daichi’s arms wrapping tightly around you.

“If it happens again, call me again. If you need anything at all, call me,” he said, rubbing your back. This was the Daichi you’d known all along and fucking hell, you missed him.

You tightened your hold around his waist. You were so immensely relieved to hear him say that. Maybe he still wanted to be the one you called. Just maybe he wanted to be the one you needed. 

“I will,” you said, nodding against his chest.

Before he left that night, he shook Subi's hand. “Take care of your mom.” 

“Yes, sir.” Holy hell, there it was again. Daichi hadn’t even told him to call him sir. Leastways, not with words. How did he do that?

“Do I have your word?” Daichi asked, squeezing Subi’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by in a couple days to see how things are going," he looked at you, "...if that's okay." 

Your son’s lips pursed as he fought back a smile as he watched you nod. “Okay.” 

After Daichi left, Subi said, “You should find a guy like him, Mom.”

Your mouth dropped open, your heart skipping a million beats. Your son had no idea who Daichi was, what he did for a living, or the highly complicated nature of your relationship with him. Finally, you smiled and said, “Yeah? He’s a good guy, huh?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Your son turned to you with his shoulders slumped and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.” 

Your body shook with tears as you nodded against his shoulder. “I know, baby. I love you so much.” 

Subi squeezed you tighter as he told you he loved you too.

ch. 10 ☆ ch. 12 (wip)

series mlist | daichi mlist

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[drdemonprince]

resource anon again here, i just read the ask where you talked about how you fantasise about a time you were abused in which you had an involuntary orgasm. i just wanted to say that it's... helpful to see someone talk about that aspect of sexual abuse in a chill way. the fact that i orgasmed, or experienced some degree of sexual pleasure during some of my assaults fucked me up for YEEEAAARRSSS. i used to be able to come so fast but now if someone else is pleasuring me i literally cannot orgasm sooner than like 1 hour and it takes unfathomable focus. and 99% of the time it's unsatisfying because it's not intuitive, shame-free, non-judgemental. i'm like fighting tooth and claw against painful intrusive memories and obsessive thoughts and it just leaves me exhausted in a bad way. i didn't even share with ANYONE that i experienced sexual pleasure during assault/s until my current psych and it was like a year after i started seeing her, i opened up about it once and that was it. it was so completely tied in with shame and disgust. anyway thanks again, this was my Confession. i hope i can fuck wild n free one day without the burden of these messy confusing thoughts and feelings

Hey anon, thanks for your message, and I am so sorry that you have been made to feel so much shame about an involuntary reaction that is not your fault, and happens to a whole lot more sexual assault survivors than gets widely talked about. It is just a thing that happens, and in fact may be a physically protective measure, because if a person's body is aroused during the experience of being assaulted, it is less likely they will experience physical damage to that area.

Our sexual responses are unusual and unexpected sometimes, and we don't always get to choose what we enjoy or how our bodies react. Your sexual assault isn't any less of a violation because you orgasmed from it. And it's not weird or gross that you did.

My experience with sexual responsiveness following the assault was something of the mirror image of yours, which I'll share because I think it's useful again in normalizing such things. The orgasm that I had while being assaulted was so sudden and intense that it cast a long shadow over all my sexual experiences afterward for while. I didn't get triggered during vanilla, consensual sex in the way people normally expect that to mean -- instead, I craved the intensity and overwhelm of the assault experience. It's not that uncommon for survivors to go numb and check out during sex, of course. But I would actively bring myself to orgasm during these moments by thinking about getting assaulted, and recalling things that were said and done to me moment-by-moment during the assault that brought me to orgasm. I would also masturbate replaying the assault for a very long time, and every now and then it's still something I'll reach for.

I don't feel any shame about this. The brain does unusual things, and draws all kinds of funny and upsetting connections at times. Perhaps this doesn't jar me so much because I have always had intrusive thoughts of violence and death but also of tenderness and childish happiness and random absurdity. I don't feel fully in control of my mind, and never have, so I can go along for the ride with what it has to offer me sometimes.

The person who assaulted me isn't able to hurt me anymore, and I feel relief and a sense of victory from the fact that I have extracted from this awful experience a ton of pleasure. At this point, almost 13 years later, I can say that jerking off to the idea of the assault has brought me so much pleasure collectively over the years that it overwhelms any pain the initial experience had. And I think that's pretty cool.

I hope that you can work through your understandable feelings of disgust and shame about your body's reaction to your assault on your own terms and in whatever way works for you. Some people cope with assault and its aftermath by age regressing, others by being celibate, others by finding a completely new sexual identity or role from what they previously enjoyed, some by becoming super vanilla, others by becoming kinky, some people just wait it out with time, and some people find a way to live with the trauma and darkness running alongside them in parallel to their life for as long as it will. There are no rules. Whatever works and feels natural to you.

I'm sure many a psychiatrist would consider me super duper fucked up for jerking off about my rape for over a decade afterward, but i'm having great orgasms and indulging my penchant for being controlled and used far more healthfully now in my relationships because I've embraced what feels like a true rush of aliveness for me, so like, fuck them and their profession as usual lol.

[tongues--and--teeth]

Fuck i fucking love your art smmmm

Berserk boi

QUICK GIVE ME ALL YOUR BERSERK CACAOO HCSSS

Oh my god! Thank you so much! This totally made my day <33333

I'm so sorry this took so long, I've been really busy lately :(

(TW for gore mention)

So actually I headcanon that his berserk form is connected to his soul jam. Kind of like a little side effect. Y'know what use is a sword if not to harm others? If not to shed blood? (and also this sword hurts its owner too!) and it's the soul jam of resolution which is also dictionary definition, literally a firm decision that you're unwavering in. If Dark Cacao ever goes back on his decision to take the sword, guess what! He goes berserk until it consumes all of his life force and kills him. woo. 

He used to be able to control the berserk form a little, being able to turn partially into it to fight and stuff. He did lose the power to do so as he got older. Turning into his half-form and full form basically torturing him every time he tried to use it. It also completely removes pretty much all mental capacity for intelligent thought, so he can't use it in a "productive" way even if he wanted to. Basically just blind destruction with no distinction between friend or foe. 

(^that's actually the concept for the drawing you saw)

Personally, I have his berserk form more or less as kind of an allegory for illness, a physical manifestation of internal pain. He was making it a fuel to keep going instead of actually confronting the “bad stuff” that happened. He was taking how it hurt him and using that to keep going, instead of confronting it head-on and getting it to stop hurting him. Eventually, he couldn't keep doing this, it was destroying him and he was losing control. So now, he couldn’t use it for anything, aka, his pain isn't useful anymore. Anyway, he does still transform into his berserk form (albeit unintentionally) but only during times of extreme stress and triggers like certain sounds, textures, and tastes. It's also triggered through more physical means, if he stands too long his legs start turning to smoke, if he fights too long his eyes glow white, it's torture every time. In very special cases (Pomegranate Cookie) he goes full berserk, it usually takes him out for weeks, unable to do much, hardly able to take care of himself, much less able to make himself useful as a king or as a warrior.

Actually, after he stopped going berserk back in book 14, I think he was cut open pretty much everywhere underneath his armor. His guts were spilling out, and were barely contained by his armor. It basically cut him almost completely in half. He still managed to fight afterwards, obviously at great personal cost, but he was still able to fight. Weeks after, he could barely move, he was stuck in bed, and even small things like sitting up were a huge struggle. The only reason he's not dead is because of his soul jam, the same reason he was cursed in the first place. His immortality at the cost of eternal suffering and the like.

After book 14, he forces enough energy to attend the council of heroes (AKA Cookie Odyssey chapter 1) but the smallest things keep setting him off, turning him slightly berserk every time. He is spending every second he can lying down in his tent. It prevents his wounds from healing, and it also keeps him from thinking clearly. When he tried killing Clotted Cream the, admittedly very little, healing that was done was immediately reversed. He ended up barely functioning, with the only reason he was able to continue with the council was because Hollyberry noticed him limping and had Pure Vanilla heal him. Which only did so much, because it’s…A curse that's both caused by and stopped by his immortality, and you can't just fix that without probably killing him instantly. So, he doesn’t have a permanent solution, and he’s stuck with this until the end of time.

Thank you again for the ask. It was really fun to do! Sorry again for taking so long to finish it :(

[janaknandini-singh999]

Day 25: Saptiya? (Did you eat?)

@desi-lgbt-fest

Vilasini came running and opened the door to the terrace sighing, a plate filled with food in her hand, thinking she'd finally get a little respite, leaving behind the humdrum of the wedding downstairs for a while at least and be able to eat out in the open. She was tired of pretending to be the perfect girl as desi atmosphere usually pressurizes one to be.

"Your name means cheerful and brilliant, so act like it, beta" some distant relative had told her smiling at her house when she was very small and introverted. Even though her parents had just laughed and agreed with her then, they had later told her not to take it to the heart but still subtly reaffirm what the relative had said every now and then through their actions even though mostly they were very supportive and flexible even for brown parents.

"I should be grateful" she thought, but that incident and similar ones engraved themselves on her and she became The Vibrant Vilasini - smiling and laughing along even when she didn't want to and eventually it naturally birthed into the role to overshadow all her other flaws that came out when she was just Villu (the nickname only her close friends and family called her).

Even right now, she was just being The Vibrant Vilasini with everyone in the wedding, joking around and asking everyone if they wanted anything. Honestly, she started kinda enjoying it. Being lively wasn't so bad at all and it had gave her a lot of nice experiences when she was with people she actually enjoyed being around with. But after a while, she always felt like she needed an escape.

Like she had needed right now.

Run.

It was moments like these she'd run and find peace under the moonlight or something.

But right now, she suddenly froze upon seeing the back of someone leaning on the handrail, quietly watching the baarat from above. "Ugh I wasn't expecting anyone to be here at this time. God, WHY me?"

Run.

That was the first thought even right now so she turned to leave when she heard a notification from the person's phone and then a thud on the railing. She looked back again as she saw the person had hit the railing or something and put their hands on their head in frustration. Vilasini closed the distance between them and saw it was a beautiful girl in a yellow sari with soft eyes turned slightly red in anger and long, lustrous hair like that of a goddess. Vilasini couldn't hold herself back from clearing her throat and whistling,

"Oo someone is really angry."

There. The Vibrant Vilasini was back. Vilasini could kick herself in the stomach right now but something wanted her to stay here with this girl and talk to her for a bit.

"Who the heck are you? And what do you want?" She looked around at her and snapped.

Oof, not the best start. But damn? She looked lovely even while furious, Vilasini stared for a second and then peeped a glance at the girl's phone at whose notification had seemed to trigger her earlier. She clicked her tongue.

"Ah, your friend didn't show up. I'm so sorry.. but I can keep you company in their place." Vilasini winked and braced herself for another blow. But it never came.

Instead, tears silently rolled down the girl's cheeks. Vilasini then noticed that her eyes had shifted to the procession below, which was now at its peak extravaganza. The groom was dancing heartily on the horseback.

"I loved him.. so much" the girl finally whispered.

Vilasini took a step back and started singing "Accha chalta hoon-" but the girl wasn't even looking at her anymore, not even acknowledging her presence as if she was invisible. That attacked right into the careful armour of her vibrant persona, which cracked open and now she felt more sad and connected to this girl than ever, it reminded her of herself when she was her true self. Maybe the energy reached the girl too so she looked at Vilasini now and asked quietly, "Did I love him too much, or too less.. that this happened?"

Vilasini had never wanted to hug someone so much her entire life but she withheld herself because she wasn't sure of this girl's comfort space. So, she just smiled. A genuine warm smile and whispered,

"You loved him enough to let him go."

That made the girl finally smile back. And God. If Vilasini thought she was gorgeous in anger, she was heavenly when smiling.

"You're red in the face, are you fine.. umm"

"Vilasini is the name. But Villu or Villaa or Villy or whatever you like, gorgeous." she said in a sing song voice. "And well, I'm red coz I'm ANGRY. THAT dude was your one true love?! Are you kidding me?? Coz well, he's my jiju now so ya know I stole his jooti but how much I got in RETURN? 2 RUPEES?!! WHO DOES THAT-" Vilasini handed the coin aggressively to her.

The girl burst out laughing, wiping away her tears and said, nodding and laughing in between again, "He's always been a miser."

Vilasini grinned back, and refused when she gave it back to her, "You can keep it. Consider it the last sign of his from the universe that Thank God You Didn't End Up With Him. My sister may have been an idiot in love to marry him, and I couldn't save her, so now I have a jijjaji that won't even give me TREATS. UGH. But don't worry coz I bet you're gonna find someone a million times better than him now."

The girl raised her eyebrows in amusement and tilted her head, saying "Thank you. I wish the same to you."

Suddenly, her stomach started rumbling.

"Oh, RIGHT I TOTALLY FORGOT." Vilasini exclaimed and brought out her plate. "Did you eat?"

"I haven't since yesterday." She replied and looked over the pheras taking place now, a numb sort of sorrow quietly settling itself on her eyes and smile.

"Not again." Vilasini whispered

"I really don't feel like having anything, and this is yours so-"

"Oh, please. There's more than enough food for both of us, and for some reason I've felt oddly full since the morning so even I have not eaten anything all day. But if you're not having, I won't either now."

"You-"

"AHA!" Vilasini quickly placed a morsel of a piece of roti and dal in her mouth as she had just opened it, and smiled. "There's no turning back now, you're trapped into indulging into this delicious shaadi ka khaana."

On the rooftop of a small makaan nearby, and elsewhere all over the city, there were brides breaking the fast by their spouses feeding while seeing the moon together.

It was Karva Chauth 🌙

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night,

"Shlokaa bro, I'm SOO sorry. This bloody fever and cold last minute so I couldn't come to the wedding. I'm a terrible best friend." a voice apologized tensely on call.

"Don't be silly, Aditi. It's alright. I would've been more mad if you had come and fallen more ill because of me. How are you feeling now?" Shlokaa put her phone on speaker and absentmindedly fidgeted with her pen.

"Much better now after the kaadha and stuff mummy made me." Aditi paused, "You know you didn't have to go through all of that all on your own by going to the wedding and seeing him, right?"

Shlokaa put the pen down and thought for a moment, somehow being able to smile at last and say "Nah, I had to. One sided shit barely ever benefited anyone. It was my thing and I needed my heart and eyes to see that it was actually over for good. And besides.. I loved him enough to let him go."

"Proud of you, girlie. Accha listen, you'll have to excuse and forgive your bestie one last time because I've gotta sleep now. Villu leaves from the first train tomorrow early morning so I have to see her off."

"Vi- who?" Shlokaa's heart skipped a beat.

"Arey, Villu.. Vilasini!! She's my cousin. You must have met her at the shaadi yesterday. She is impossible to miss because she's the life of every party. I absolutely have NO clue how she does it but she interacts and brightens literally everyone up in the room. Funny how mummy says Vilasini wasn't always like this but now compares me to her all the damn time, yaaaar. She says if Vilasini can learn then why can't I? Like bro what??Anyway, you'd meet her and think she's the most obedient and charming one you've ever met but trust me, I've known that girl since childhood and in the end, she wouldn't listen to anyone but herself and still manage to do what's best for everyone, and I respect her so much for that. Hello? Shlo bro, are you even listening?"

Shlokaa wasn't. Her mind had been stuck on one name ever since her friend had mentioned it: Vilasini. In no time, she whirled back into yesterday night on the terrace where she first saw her. Adorned in a pink lehenga wearing golden jhumke, she had looked more dazzling than the stars above. Dark eyes, and a faint smile on her cherry lips made her face even resemble the moon amidst the night of her messy hair. Shlokaa remembered feeling even a pang of jealousy on seeing her for the first time because she was also fair skinned, and no matter how hard Shlokaa would try, she believed that effortlessly pretty girls like these would always have an unfair advantage in society over her. But that wasn't the only reason she had first snapped at her. Vilasini had reminded her of the mean, popular girls that had been at her school in the beginning because of her seemingly insensitive and jesting attitude, and she just couldn't stand them. Nor could she stand just being helpess and not doing anything about it. She was a no nonsense girl who revolted against such injustice and people were a little intimidated of her because of that. They would say bad things behind her back to convince themselves that they weren't scared of her, it was she who was weird instead. But Shlokaa couldn't care less. One thing her mother had taught her was to be grounded. Shlokaa may not be a lot of things but she was strong. Her mother lovingly used to tell her how she was so dedicated to reading Bhagavad Gita when she was pregnant with Shlokaa so she had absorbed all the wisdom and values like Abhimanyu had about the chakravyun when his mother had him in the womb.

Coming back - Shlokaa was wrong about Vilasini. She had helped her that night and made her feel something no one ever had, even though she didn't even know her. She could feel her easy yet striking gaze on her even now as she imagined Vilasini in her head, and without thinking what she was saying, she snapped back into reality and suddenly blurted out to Aditi,

"Can you take me along with you tomorrow?"

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Oh I'm such a wimp I don't even wanna think about bad things happening 🫣 But I keep coming back to touch starved, secret caretaking and cry into chest, if you want to talk about any of them?

Well secret caretaking would be kind of a fluffy one! Buck is a pretty stubborn guy when it comes to taking care of himself and asking others for help related to that, so it would be Eddie quietly doing things to make his life easier/nicer while he’s having a tough time. A lot of him being sappy while making sure his ice packs always get back in the freezer, etc.

Haven’t figured out the other two so I’ll just start typing shit out under the cut

Cry into chest…. Not sure what to do about this one…. Maybe I’ll make Eddie cry about something…. Family problems? A nightmare? Buck got hurt and he’s worried? Chris is sick and he’s worried? Or maybe nothing at all has happened but he still is just caught up in an overwhelming feeling of nonspecific worry and frustrated about it because he thought he was past this, The Breakdown ™ was so long ago at this point and like he knows making progress doesn’t mean he magically doesn’t have anxiety anymore and he can have set backs and that’s okay, but he’d been getting better at recognizing when panic like this is coming on and what might trigger it, he’s upset that this blindsided him. Yeah I like that I think I’ll turn that into something…

Touch starved might be another Eddie one. Maybe lawsuit era, maybe post shooting where Ana is there and touches him but he just wants buck, maybe breakdown era where he doesnt see buck anymore and misses him so much but doesnt know how to ask for it, maybe just a general him getting in his head about what kind of touch he’s allowed to have? Like he and Buck casually touched and hugged more in the first season or two they were in and then got a little more distant and that could be characterized as like… in the early days Buck is a friend, its fine to pal around with your friends, but then uh oh the emotions are getting really intense now and you’re not supposed to want to touch your friends this much! Danger! What would the guys on his baseball team have said? What would his dad say? In other words Eddie Diaz Fights The Forces Of Internalized Homophobia. OR I might repurpose and finish this snippet (that I think I’ve already posted before??) about Buck coming back to the Diaz house for the first time after the tsunami

They’re in the locker room, shift over by a good ten minutes, when Eddie puts a hand on his arm. Buck, carefully, doesn’t startle or say this is the second time you’ve touched me in three months out loud.

“You wanna come over,” Eddie says, theoretically a question but presented more like a statement, and Buck should probably feel more annoyed at that except for the fact that there’s a less than zero chance he’d ever say no.

“Yeah,” he says, unnecessarily. “Sure. You want me to grab food?”

So, 40 minutes later, he’s in front of the Diaz house holding a few greasy boxes and worrying that somehow everyone’s taste in pizza has changed since the last time they did this. Eddie’s taste, probably, at nearly years old, has settled such that the most garlic-y option Buck can find is still a safe bet, but Chris is just a kid, getting bigger every day, changing all the time. Three months is an age to an eight year old, maybe pepperoni is disgusting now, embarrassing, food for babies.

So. Buck is standing on the porch, holding the boxes, biting his tongue not to cry wondering what all he might have missed when Eddie pulls into the driveway in his new big truck. He bites down harder because he doesn’t know what he’s allowed anymore, if it would be okay for him to laugh and say what the fuck are you hauling around that you need this much car, Diaz.

Sorry Eddie I will never pass up the opportunity to rage on you for your poor choice of car for city driving

[compassionatereminders]

hi kat, i want to ask about an outsider's view on things concerning my partner and i. i feel like i lean a lot on my friends during times like these and i dont want to bother them again anymore, currently, about these issues.

my partner and i recently have been fighting a lot, about mundane things, usually stemming from me being pushed a little. i do agree that i may be a little too sensitive about certain things, and sometimes i become selfish. my familial relationships are rooted in emotional abuse so i had been closed off my whole life. sometimes i drop everything on him about things and he has his limits. this is because i often feel like if he likes me he will do anything for me even though theyre out of line.

his part of the family isnt great either, he had been exposed to physical abuse disguises as love afterwards, and he wants to leave as soon as he finishes his degree.

we have broken up before, due to miscommunication, he wants to sleep things off before talking and i take that as a personal insult when i cant help my emotions, i want to solve things before bed. however we have compromised sometimes, and things have been great.

the thing is i am half positive that we are often fighting recently due to us missing each other, we havent met each other in a month now, and it is the longest we have not seen each other in person. however, since he is still staying at his parents' house and hes not allowed to leave for trips unannounced unless he wants to get the consequences, we havent been able to cope well this vacation period.

i never mean to start a fight but recently everytime i say my feelings he has an issue with it. one time we had a plan to watch moviws together online, so i asked him to set a plan. and he did, however he turned up 35 minutes late and it greatly upset me. he informed me after we cooled down that he had been lectured by his parents and he couldnt message me during it. i understand that i had a fault in not perceiving things a lot, however i think the whole fight could have been avoided if he apologized and told me immediately afterqards the reason why. he had told me that i was too sensitive about it and that it wasnt his fault. i had let it pass because i do think its also true, given that i myself am also late sometimes.

yesterday, we had spent the day together playing online games and watching movies. however, by the time it was nightfall, i had felt down and i told him that i feel like the love i had received for the day wasnt enough and that i dont mean it as an offense to him. he said he loved me a lot the whole day and i should think back and cherish the moments we had. i dont even rememver what happened after that but we got into a huge fight, i just feel like i want some love and he should have just given it? instead of trying to tell me that im being ungrateful, because i dont think i am, i appreciated the whole day i just wanted to be cuddled to bed too, and i feel like we didnt connect a lot. he said i can never be content and will always want more than he can give, and then he had slept.

i understand that im sometimes asking for too much, but then again. i cant helo it sometimes and i dont mean to. i also dont want to accidentally start a fight every single time i feel a negative emotion.

i dont know what is happening to us and i just want someone to shine a light on what is happening. sorry for the long ask, i hope you have a good day. thanks for listening

There are no obvious red flags here in the sense that I don't get the impression that you OR your partner is doing something inherently abusive towards the other. But it seems like you both have your fair share of emotional issues and related trauma, and that you have a tendency to talk past and trigger each other. And the key to resolve it isn't in you forcing a discussion when he's asking for space, just like he doesn't get to just tell you to feel differently when you communicate unmet needs. So you have to decide whether there is still something worth fighting for in this connection, and then you both have to be willing to work on yourself and compromise and communicate. Because maintaining a relationship is hard work, especially during less than ideal circumstances, and whether you're both able to put in the work it would take to change this pattern is worth thinking about

[toinfinitywinning]

What you see & hear- or even if you can. Just a cover.

Open it? There’s no tellin’ the worm. But you bought the ticket. It’s your Day 1.

They’re gonna try to break you.

Yk every Day I wake up. And I’m scared of it. Don’t want to. And not b/c im warm in my bed snuggling w/ my feather duvet and rain, with the weight of a horse on my legs play pretending he’s a 3 lb Show shhnowzaa but b/c I’ve already, already lived it. And having been in a constant State of fight or flight, normal or abnormal, sometimes u can’t tell —I still feel bad. W/e differentiation you had to separate the two both ended up at the North Pole but you’ve at least got Santa.

So this means I’m confused all Day but I still want some of Michael’s Secret Stuff Gatorade (haterade) from “welcome to the space jam—alright.” 🎵. To get me through. A safe energy drink. And your body doesn’t ☊ anymore so the more you talk to yourself the saner. It’s just I’ve never had to fake I’m physically okay to be present so much. Physical sickness affects ur mind Health and if you already struggle w/ that my condolences b/c your leg hurts too.

It’s a nightmare never 1-upping to a dream of being without. Then some days it’s will hear a song or remember a Good time or just Start crying-faucet not included. No acute-reason onset. (We gotta find another word for trigger no joke). I only subconsciously wonder will today be better…Will I get better? And I don’t know why I continue to continue being somewhere inbtw positive and negative. All the sudden my mind is taxed and so are your paychecks and I’ve been up for 15 minutes not even thinking I was thinking b/c Truth is, when something becomes your reality for such a Long time, everything just runs together. You’re afraid to feel anything yet know if you don’t it’s not just your body ready to atrophy. Not Good. And it’s a sneaky lil’ mf.

I can’t Imagine the omnipresent (best word for constant I got) Pain people feel having been with Illness their whole lives. How differently their world is shaped. Pain, prolonged cynicism, Illness prolonged, disability prolonged, w/e u used to think about things is gone unless you’re born one of these ways. Now to be clear I was born this Way but not THIS Way don’t get it twisted. Some days I wonder what it would be like to swap around. W/e it is—This presence does not belong to God— but maybe its mere existence really does b/c we won’t have anyone to thank if things get better? And there’s no joy in the things we’ve hoped for and overcome? And everything always has an End result of some kind…Right? If that’s my endgame I can only look at some things very matter of fact-ly. But. Here we are. Pending. Loading. Accept All Cookies. Your Health for potential healing is At the mercy of literally a button click away from quality or lifesaving or changing Medicine or therapy. CAN YOU AFFORD TO STAY ALIVE? Be fired? Bankrupt-ed? Evicted? No college, no trade School, but you work ur butt off to provide but you’re still paid $7.25/hr as I was as head intramural supervisor at Georgetown College. 15 years ago. Not just that, exist, like eating, clothes to wear, some sort of roof. So you’re choosing between crappy and crappier. Literally no difference. How in the is someone even going to try to stay healthy?!

Thankfully I don’t have to worry as much about the material, which, its Stress alone induces more trauma and Anxiety, but I’d bet how we feel physically isn’t too different. All the sudden again in the subconscious where I am all the time I’m figuring and not truly present you really think existentially like how in not God’s name clearly did I get here? I fixed everything. But Life isn’t played by a claw that has never won anybody a teddy bear. I wouldn’t pin karma to me in itself but it sure makes you think.

None of this is about to make sense but it’s where my mind took me.

Think about what was happening in your Life before things changed. Before literally waking up one Morning and knowing that very second things had to change or I was headed toward death a lot faster than I thought until that God moment. I don’t have many of them that are that dramatic but nothing was clearer to me in that moment. And then that Damn bat and conspiracy crap of government population control. If anthrax was sprinkled in Amazon boxes we’d be extinct. But Pretty sure we know how to get rid of people without breaking a beaker or test tube and then turning on a fan just gifting particles. And Unraveling ALL of the many ways of healing I’d finally lived into. I was so close. To every Fk up id invited. And so asking why anymore seems vacant. Echoing. And my ears hurt. ATP I’m More so saying well, I’m not sure that strategy is going to work anymore. Where’s the ღ in Health. It’s lost it. How much are you worth? No, like write down a monetary number on a piece of paper, fold it and slide it across the desk. Insurance companies be like: I see your offer and I’ll raise your offer: have you tried dying yet? B/c you could save a lot of money that way. The money it will take to bury you might even be more deadly.

So The most defeating part is beginning the Day as it ends. When I think about that it’s just like how did I get here? I’m still stubborn about it but maybe regardless of w/e someone accomplishes there’s the reality you’re still living in an imperfect world where you can only control so many things. Even if u gain that control back all those traps R still available. So you can Imagine my surprise when there’s not enough OCD to Go around to control THIS. regardless of what we can have control over, do that, b/c the smaller victories become magnified and walking to the kitchen to take your Meds that may or may not be helping is like an 8-ball w/ only 8 options. Eenie meenie miney. Mo.

I don’t set out to cry or tear up in the videos I share. I’ve always been a cryer. I’ve been told I feel things more intensely so it hits different, does different. The direct quote will remain anonymous but the sentimental pack rat in me wrote it down ASAP. Like, a handwritten letter. You took TIME for me. The quote—It was several years ago and I almost can’t stand it b/c it’s me in whatever kind of Shell is available at the time.

[“people perceive me as an individual who has the kindest of all hearts, but who struggles with the realities of life given that kindness…Like how the tenderhearted feel the pains of the earth more intensely.”]

It’s so true. But if I can’t be real what Good’s that gonna do? For me it further affirms what I already am living. In Edgar’s scary A** pit or with the company of not one canary in the coal mine.

C’ya in the AM. 🫡

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

alex killing someone to protect tim and refusing to apologize for it because "you would have just stood there and let them kill you I bet. how about some fucking gratitude for once." (alex didnt actually mean to kill the guy, but he saw a gun pointed at tim and did what he had to. it doesnt matter that he feels guilty about it, because he had to do it. why is tim even upset? its not like HE had to pull the trigger. he probably wouldnt, if it was alex's life on the line.) tim is furious obviously and they are as always going to fuck about it. alex tries to lock away his feelings on the situation even though tonight hes clinging to tim oddly tight, even as tim curses him out and insults him. (it was worth it even to be this close to him. even if he hates you, would never do the same for you. hes alive and thats all that matters. and it doesnt matter, because feeling things isnt supposed to be something you are capable of anymore. how could someone with emotions gun a man down with empty eyes if they still had a heart?) alex is trying to keep up with the verbal sparring but he keeps thinking about how tim didnt move or day a word when the man pointed a gun at him. thinks about what would have happened had he not been there. what he would have lost. he wraps himself around tim as hes fucked into the mattress and feels grateful for every angry groan and every bruise he knows he will be feeling for weeks. and afterwards, he cant bring himself to let go, nor can he explain why.

oh my goddddd yeah. you get it. Alex takes their aggression towards each other as much as he usually does, thinks he's putting on a good show of being totally unaffected and normal about it. Its not like this is the first person he's ever killed, nor is it gonna be the last. And sure, of course he feels the guilt. The guilt eats him alive. But he knows losing Tim would have been worse. In fact, there was never even a question in his mind about it, not a second of hesitation. Tim was in danger and looked like he wanted that gun in his face to go off more than he wanted to move out of the way, so Alex did what he had to do. He knows he's being weirdly defensive about it, that the fact he's picking fights about Tim's unwillingness to escape is not subtle, but he can't help it. Not when what he could have lost was so important. He wants to pick Tim's brain, find out why he would have just taken that shot. Find out if Tim would have done the same for him. Would he? Alex highly doubts it, is very familiar with how much Tim dislikes him. Alex dislikes him too. He just would also miss Tim if Tim died.

[stewardofningishzida]

Dr. Strange Meta-Fic Sequel!

PEOPLE! The Meta-Fic is back and strong as ever. So, here’s Chapter 1 of the sequel. Thanks to Trix, Tear, and PrettyWitch for sticking with us! Have fun and enjoy, everyone! TRIGGER WARNING: Cryptids, mention of blood, some horror elements, panic attack mention, language

Chapter 1:  Lingering Fragments

*It’s been 5 months since Stephen left. The world remained unaware of his visit, although strange sightings were constantly reported in the news. A glowing baby, a dodo bird, and HD photos of Bigfoot, to name a few. At first, we dismissed them as AI-generated images or possible side effects coming from the rift that Stephen and Wong had closed, but the latest picture of a chupacabra taken only 4 hours away from our town was too uncanny to ignore. I text the group.*

Me (text):  Hey…There’s been a lot going on and I don’t think we can ignore it anymore.  Should we try to check this chupacabra thing out and make sure nothing majorly wrong is happening?  I know it’s kinda far, but it’s closer than anything else reported.  What do you guys think?

Tear (text): It would be nice to confirm if this is all just more proof that AI is a curse, but I have to point out that there’s also the possibility that it could be real. If we do choose to go, we’ll need a plan for every single eventuality. I really don’t want a repeat of the mines.

Trix (text): No one needs a repeat of the mines.

PrettyWitch (text): I think we should go. I’ve been having weird flashes of some kind of monster lately, so it might not be such a bad idea.

Me (text):  Agreed.  I would like to not be caught off-guard and have one or more of us nearly killed.  Wait…Weird flashes, PrettyWitch?  Like visions or something?  You’re sure it’s not just nightmares from the weird news stories?

PrettyWitch (text): Maybe…I mean, I have been watching a lot of BBC Sci-fi and post-apocalyptic shows recently.

Me (text):  Hm.  Well…How vivid are these flashes and do they all have the same monster in them?  Like, describe these flashes.  At this rate, we should probably figure it out and confirm whether or not these ARE visions.  

PrettyWitch (text): Well, they usually start as an image that I swear I’ve seen before, almost like I’m having deja vu. Problem is, they’ve been coming more often and in weird ways. For example, sometimes I’ll feel off, like my body is reacting to this intense aura or something and then a few days later, something happens. It’s not always bad, but it’s been happening a lot recently. My mom’s even worried that something may be wrong with me. What’s funnier is that I’ve been seeing flashes of this monster whenever it happens, and the real kicker…I feel like I predicted we’d be having this conversation in a dream I don’t remember. In fact, I’m getting a sense of deja vu right now!

Me (text):  Weird…Also, seriously?  Erm…Okay then.  If this is what’s going on, taking into account everything else happening, then I suppose that these really might be visions.  Man…So much for the rifts being closed.  If we find that chupacabra during our search, then that all but confirms that they’re still open and actively spilling magical energy into our universe.  Which monster do you keep seeing, by the way?

Tear (text): Wong personally assured us he had closed them, though. With both him and Stephen gone, there shouldn’t have been any magical signatures luring other beings and monsters into our reality…

Trix (text):  These might not be from their universe but another one and that’s why we haven’t heard from them.

PrettyWitch (text): I keep seeing this dog-like creature. But its body is…longer than a dog’s would be. And it has these long, sharp claws and inhuman eyes.

Me (text):  Hmm…Well, Wong kinda said that the rifts would close on their own over time.  However, according to him, sorcerers traveling through the multiverse don’t usually stay longer than 24 hours.  Stephen was here for 2 weeks.  Even Wong said that it was unprecedented.  So, maybe the rifts are still closing or got torn open more because Stephen was stuck here for way too long?  Not sure.  As for the monster in the visions, that might be our beast.  If we find it.  What do you think, guys?  Recon mission?

PrettyWitch (text): Yeah. I’m all for that. 

Trix (text): I volunteer to be base camp!

Tear (text): …Guess there’s no helping it, then.

Me (text):  Okay.  Meet me in my driveway on Saturday.  If any of you have trail cameras, bring them.  We’ll also need plenty of water, sunscreen, and tough clothing that ventilates well so nobody gets overheated.  We also need a cooler.  I’m making a stop by the specialty butcher shop.  If it really is a chupacabra, we’ll need fresh goat blood.  That’s the only place I can think of to get it.  Maybe a few cups or small bowls to place in front of the cameras too.  That should work.  I’m hoping the thing doesn’t notice us and get aggressive.  If so, then the last things we may need are some baseball bats or any other weapons to get it off of us.  However, seeing as we aren’t Stephen and Wong, let’s try not to get noticed and shredded.  See you guys this weekend, Saturday morning.  I’ll get ready and wait by the car.  

PrettyWitch (text): Okay, but where are we gonna find fresh goat’s blood again?

Me (text):  The halal butcher shop downtown.  They sell goat meat there.  The local Indian restaurant nearby makes an amazing goat curry.  Anyway…Since the butchers process the meat, they should also have the blood.  

PrettyWitch (text): Oh okay.

Tear (text): Saturday it is, then. Be sure to bring as much protection as you can think of. Chupacabras have never attacked human beings, they usually prefer to creep and stalk only, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Trix (text): At least it isn’t vampires.

*After a few days of work and gathering materials, I grab the cooler from my garage, some bottles of water, a bottle of sunscreen, and various other supplies.  After putting them in the trunk, I wait for the group.  Tear is the first one to arrive.*

Me:  Hey, Tear.  Got as many supplies as I could.  Also found some of my old spare fencing armor.  It has a protective layer of kevlar sewn onto it.  So, it might come in handy.  It’s hot, though.  So, better to only put it on if things get really hairy.  

Tear: That sounds like a great idea. I asked my dad to lend me some of his tools and made these. *I pull from my trunk two baseball bats with long, thick nails hammered on their top end* I’ve watched enough zombie and horror shows to know they come in handy. Let’s just keep them hidden in case there are any road patrols… Oh! I also brought a few dog bite sleeves my uncle still kept after his stint as a trainer.

Me:  Good stuff.  Yeah…That stays in the trunk under the spare tire so it doesn’t look sketchy.  Okay.  Let’s think…Anything else?  Still have to wait for the others to arrive.  

*PrettyWitch is the next to arrive.*

Prettywitch: I’ve brought a couple of sleeping bags and a tent in case we need to camp out for the night. Oooh!!! I also brought some Hershey’s s'more packs if we want something sweet for later. And I think  I’ve got an Aero brand in here, too. And…a few books to read and some pen and paper for jotting notes on.

Me:  Awesome!  

*Trix arrives last.*

Trix: Sorry I’m late! Let’s get this started.

*Once we’ve packed everything into the car, we’re off.  It’s going to be a long drive into the desert.*

Me:  Everyone feeling okay still?  How are the nerves?  Oh!  Butcher.  Just a sec.

*I make the side stop to the butcher shop for the goat blood.  Trix and the others follow me in out of curiosity.  There are some tasty imported treats that we can buy there anyway.  The shopkeeper’s husband, Mr. Singh, is a recent immigrant.  So, his English is spotty at best.  He hangs back most of the time and talks to his wife in Punjabi.*

Mr. Singh (in Punjabi to his wife as he goes to get my order):  Goat’s blood?  What kind of request is that?  At least we recently processed some of the livestock…

*Trix frowns as she hears Mr Singh loud and clear compared to when he just recently talked to a customer hesitantly. She assumes he’s just shy and prefers to stay in the back but doesn’t note it as particularly odd.*

Me (noticing her expression):  Something up, Trix?

Trix: I don’t think so. But it looks like they have the goat blood for us. *Nods her head at Mr Singh discreetly.*

Me (oblivious):  All right.  I suppose I’ll go pay.

*Things go without any additional hitches.  Though I do notice that Trix looks a bit confused.  I didn’t notice anything different.  Mr. Singh always chats with his wife while working.  Though I have no clue what he’s saying.*

*Trix just frowns at a sudden headache and decides to just follow the others.*

*After a few hours, we arrive at the suspected site, a spot with limited pasture that is a few minutes away from the nearest farm.*

Me:  Okay.  So, first thing’s first.  Let’s lay low, keep quiet, and stay together.  Our first objective is to scope out some potentially good areas to place trail cams.  Here.  We can use my binoculars.  *I offer them.*

Tear: I think we should hone our cover story in case we run into anyone else. The press might be concentrating on stalking the farmers and locals, but the cryptid hunters might also be trying to make their way out here for their own investigations.

Me:  If anyone asks, then we’re wildlife biologists looking to see any potential predators causing problems.  That includes diseased coyotes and such.

Tear: *I hum in agreement* Mange is a rather nasty disease.

Me:  Yep.  The really bad cases often end up in wildlife rehab centers for a while.  Also, in case anyone gets suspicious, I can just blab some ecological jargon.  I still remember quite a bit from back when I was an environmental science major.  Just smile and nod.  Maybe point at a plant or animal and ask what it is and I’ll start talking about it.  That way, it makes us look like just a group of grad students.

Trix:  Just smile and wave friends, smile and wave. *She can’t help but meme at a time like this*

*I smirk at the joke.*

PrettyWitch: Sweet! I can pretend I didn’t graduate with a useless degree!

Tear: Alright, should be easy enough to fake. Let’s get this done quickly then before the heat gets to us. If we hurry, we can then nap until sundown so that we can spend the night surveilling our footage.

Me:  Onward, then.  *I put some sunscreen on and sling my backpack onto my back while also picking up the cooler full of blood.*

*We start looking around for any viable camera placement areas.  Any place we think might work gets a camera either strapped to a shrub or tied to a stake hammered into the ground.  I place a small cup of goat blood in front of each camera.*

Me:  That way, the sun’s heat warms it up and the smell can start to waft around.  Should tempt the thing more.  Whatever it may be.  Anyone see any potential issues with anything set up here?

Trix: Besides being outside? *Makes a face but is clearly joking at least a little bit.*

Tear: Other than attracting every animal that scavenges for carrion? We’re gonna have a long night ahead of us…

PrettyWitch: Oh yeah…Not to mention all the bugs and stuff that’s gonna try and eat us alive.

Me:  Will help to rule anything else out, I guess?  Most stuff doesn’t usually go for blood only.  So, since there’s no meat, maybe they’ll just cruise by or sniff.  If this IS a chupacabra, then they’ll really want that blood.  Ergh, yeah…I’m kinda glad I picked up some canned coffee.  Triple shot espresso.  That should do the trick.  Heh…I don’t have a problem at all!  *I half-joke.  Admittedly, I’m quite dependent on caffeine.  More than once, I’ve been caught bouncing off the walls after several cups of tea or coffee.*  We should take turns watching the cameras and surroundings.  That way, nothing can catch us by surprise.  Who wants to do the first shift camera and who wants to be the first sentry watching our surroundings?  That way, 2 of us rest and 2 of us are active at any given time.  *I think for a moment.*  Ehh…I can do sentry duty for the first shift since I was the one who had us all come out here.  Just need one other person to cover the camera footage.  Sound fair?

Prettywitch: Sure. I’ll be the first camera watcher, then. I wanna see if I was right or not.

Me:  All right.  Tear, Trix, you guys can rest for now.  We’ll wake you up either if something happens or our shifts end.  Deal?

Tear: Deal. Just remember not to charge in and go investigate on your own if anything does happen. Wake us all first.

Trix: I absolutely will not be running towards any monsters.

Me:  I’ll be careful.  Not liking the idea of getting jumped by anything in the dark.  If any of us sees anything, we’ll holler to wake the others.  I’ll patrol our campsite with my machete.  I carry it in my hiking bag anyway to help cut small branches for kindling.  Can wear my fencing jacket to protect my torso.  In the dark, it looks enough like a normal coat for people not to notice.  The kevlar in it should make sure nothing can get to me too easily.  Let’s set up camp and then Tear and Trix can get some sleep.

*We set up the tent out of sight of the road and farm so we’re harder to spot.  I put a few of my old field guides, a calculator, and a notebook in the tent just in case someone comes around and starts asking questions.*

Me:  Again, if anyone asks, we’re wildlife biologists.  Good?

Tear: *I nod.*  Don’t wander off too far.

Me:  I’ll be sticking to the perimeter of camp.  If I get too close to any of the bait or cameras, it might not show up.  So, I’m not going to disturb them.  *I open the canned coffee and drink it.*  There’s more if you guys want it.  I bought 4 cans.

*When night falls, I hand PrettyWitch the phone with the camera feed, put on my gear, grab the machete, and head out while Tear and Trix settle down to sleep.  I’m very quiet with only the soft padding of my footsteps to be faintly heard.*

Prettywitch: *Is currently walking around with a camera in one hand, and a bottle of pepper spray in the other. The whole time she’s thinking she’s glad she never saw “Blair Witch” or she’d be even more freaked out than she is now. Pulls out her phone to text Steward.*  Hey; I just remembered I didn’t have time to research Chupacabras before we got here. What am I supposed to be looking for, exactly? Not appearance wise, just more like signs to look out for.

*I text PrettyWitch back*

Me (text):  Chupacabras go for blood as a main food source.  So, if the thing starts eating or licking up the blood from the cups, that might be a sign.  Also, if you hear animals screaming from the farm, it might be an ongoing attack.  They mutilate livestock.  I put the cups of blood right in front of the cameras as bait.  So, hopefully the cameras will show it coming over to feed.  I can hear your footsteps, by the way.  You don’t have to patrol.  It’s just a wireless camera feed on the phone.  That way, it’s easier on you and you can concentrate on the screen.  

PrettyWitch (text): Alright. But I’m keeping the pepper spray with me!

*The first shift passes fairly uneventfully.  So far, only a curious opossum has come by to sniff at the bait.  I head back towards the tent to wake up Trix and Tear so we can switch shifts.  However, I hear PrettyWitch call us.*

Prettywitch: Uh…Guys! You might wanna come see this.

Me:  Huh?  *I hurry up and get over there.*

Tear: *I wake up and blearily look at the time in my phone’s screen before shoving at Trix next to me* I think that’s our cue to change shifts… *I yawn and clamber out of my sleeping bag, instantly missing its warmth*

Trix: “Please tell me that nothing has happened.”

PrettyWitch: Well, that’s what I’d love to tell but, um…Yeah… *She holds the camera to Steward so she can see the footage.*

*I look at the camera feed and my expression gets more and more shocked as I watch.*

Me (quietly):  Oh shit…That’s not good.  That is REALLY not good…

*I try to text Stephen again.  Though I know that it most likely won’t work.  It certainly hasn’t worked the other times I’ve tried.*

Me (text, to Stephen’s phone):  We have a problem.  If you ever get this message, please help.

*The same red exclamation point shows up as usual.  I curse under my breath.  Then, I look back at the camera.  There’s…something…staring right back at us.  It isn’t just looking at the bait or the camera.  It seems like the thing is looking directly at US.  The creature has a dog-like face with eerie, blank eyes.  Its frame appears to be a hunched-over humanoid with spines along its back.  Not to mention the long claws at the ends of thin, skeletal fingers.  There is an uncanny sort of intelligence in its gaze.  I can feel a chill running down my spine.*

Tear: *Peeking through the flap of our tent, I see you huddled over the phone and look back at Trix.* Looks like we did get something… *We move over closer so that we can look at the footage over PrettyWitch’s shoulders and my blood instantly chills* That, my loves, is no mangy dog…

Trix: Welp. That’s a big fat nope from me.

PrettyWitch: Yeah. Same.

Me (mouthing this silently at the group):  What the hell are we supposed to do now?  

*I take several screenshots to save as more evidence.  In the time that I do that and the files save, the creature has disappeared.  We hear a faint rustling near the camp.  It’s dead silent.  Now, not even the crickets are chirping.  I give the group a look.  I know EXACTLY what’s going on.  This is the very same silence that I encountered that day I was stalked by a mountain lion while hiking a few years back.  I know precisely what it’s doing.*

Trix (Absolutely about to have a panic attack): We let it have the goat blood and call park rangers to helicopter us the fuck out of here. That or we pull off a miracle and do Stephen things out of nowhere. 

*Since this isn’t any state or national parkland, we don’t have that option.  So, I quietly gather my friends close to me and clutch my machete tightly, ready to defend us if needed.  When I hear more rustling close by, I turn on a flashlight and aim it at the nearby scraggly shrubs in an effort to deter it.*

Me (growling):  Fuck.  Off.  *I’m in defensive mode right now.*

Tear: Nope, staring it down is not gonna work. *I grab at Steward’s shoulder and pull the entire group back into the tent before zipping the flap back closed.* We need lights and tons of music. Loud music. Make it believe there’s more of us here than there is and it won’t dare to approach.

Trix (actively sobbing): We better not be the next Blair Witch project or I am gonna haunt the shit out of all of you.

Tear: *I give Trix a small smile, as shaky as it is, trying to comfort her.* It might stalk around a bit, but Chupacabras have never attacked people before. Damn, it is ugly though.

PrettyWitch: Tell me about it!

Me (quickly to resolve the situation):  Okay.  Radios and phones on, people.  *I turn on the portable radio to blast some rock music.  “Helter Skelter” by The Beatles blares from the speakers.*

*Trix is still sobbing but follows the instructions.*

Tear: *I open Spotify and set up a podcast before moving our belongings into vaguely shaped lumps to cast shadows over the tent walls* Different voices means more people, right? If any humans come to ask, we just thought it was a good idea to bring booze to our research trip.

Me (pretend whining, though just to add to the noise and make it sound like we’re a group of research students):  Guys…Our PI is gonna kill us!  We gotta keep it down!  *I’m playing along while also watching for any signs of more trouble.  Meanwhile, I help Tear move a few more items to make more convincing silhouettes.*

Tear: Has it looped back to any of the cameras yet?

*PrettyWitch checks the cameras, the tension still high.*

PrettyWitch: *Shakes her head*  Doesn’t look like it.

Tear: Shoot, it must still be over on this side then… *I take in the inside of our tent* Trix, the flap on the window next to you keeps coming off the velcro. Can you keep it fixed somehow?

*Trix tries to help but is shaking a bit too much to keep a hold of things. As she digs through our supplies for some tape, she drops her flashlight and it startles her for a moment before she picks it up. She looks up to find the Chupacabra staring at her through the uncovered slit of the mesh window. It is sitting less than a foot away, close enough that our light reflects off its white eyes. Its sharp teeth are on full display due to what we can now see is a terrifying lack of lips. Trix screams.*

***To be continued***

[mortuaest]

Large rant, sorry. Please ignore if any of the trigger warnings are going to be an issue. I need to get it off of my chest because if I rant on FB I get hit with a character limit and I should make a personal Tumblr which I think I have but dont remember shit about.

Ive been having severe, and I mean severe as fuck mental and emotional breakdowns because of the fact that its literally been almost a year (Its going to be a year October 29th) since I've had to put down Ice Cube, my ESA of 14.5 years. He had cancer in his cheek and it was placed right to where it would effect his quality of life severely negatively if we tried to surgically take it out, and he would possibly die on the table if we did it because of his age, and he was declining (He wasn't eating, he was drinking, he really wasnt eating as much as I wanted him to, he was spitting back up the pills I was giving him, he was suffering) and my mental and emotional health has been severely suffering each and every day that passes without him.

I have another cat, I got him in April, thinking I was alright. Which I was I guess. Im being reminded via FB memories and just my own fucked up brain wanting me to join him to where I'm legit giving myself until December 31st, 2023 to have someone. Anyone give me a fucking sigh to keep on living. Im going to be going through a program my friend suggested to make a will, making her I forgot the words she used but shes going to make sure that my will is listened to and Albert Whisker, the cat I have now is taken care of.

I cant keep on living, and the fact that this heartbreak is fucking me up so badly to the point where the large baggie of medications (ranging from insomnia medications to Very STRONG painkillers and such, as well as my daily medications the day of me going to attempt) is very tempting to take now. And I mean very tempting. Meaning I almost took it yesterday, after my first mental break and me physically hurting myself by slamming a brush ungodly hard into my head because I legit believe I deserve everything that has happened to me (The physical, emotional and mental abuse that I got for 20 some odd years from my mother, the severe car accident from last year, the rapes, everything. My friends being murdered or dying around me, loosing the only thing that even brought light to my life).

No one in my life cares. No one seems to care. Ive been severely struggling and each time IVe even bothered to reach out for help via friends. Since my father hates me for being trans and my sister doesnt give a fuck to even bother to help me. My mother was the cause of my two rapes/sexual assaults in my life and wants me dead because Im autistic. No one wants to help, or no one seems interested in even keeping me around.

Cosplay isnt helping. Video games aren't either. I havent felt any happiness since last year. I could deal with this if he was still alive. But at the same time Im lying to myself, I havent known what made me happy other than my past cat Ice Cube. I stayed for him since I love him. I had him since he was five weeks old. We bonded. Its not the case with Albert and I feel he loves me but we dont have the connection and never will.

Im never going to feel anything other than severe misery and depression. At least, that's what I 100% believe.

TLDR: Im severely struggling and dont know what to do anymore. I dont trust my new therapist even though she has stated more than once and my friend who also goes to her has stated more than once she wont send me to inpatient or CPAP and she tries to avoid hospitalization if we can. But because of multiple decades of PTSD, abuse, and being denied the proper treatment, help, support from friends and family that I should of gotten Im at the point where Im giving myself until December 31st to find a reason to stay alive and if I dont then Im letting my queue run out.

[magnoliamyrrh]

Don't you have a psychotic father? Didn't you fear that acid might trigger psychosis in you too?

He did. Its unclear what has caused my fathers psychosis however. His mother holds that when he was young he overdosed on some medication and had a long series of epileptic-like seizures, and that this may be the source; doesnt seem too far fetched bc there have been cases of this happening, and of epileptic seizures causing religious-focused psychosis, and feelings of "heaven" and "hell." Noone else in that line of my family, or on any side of my familty, has had any kind of psychosis-inducing mental illness however, noone recently at least or noone that anyone knows of

I used to worry about it at the beggining, yes, every once in awhile I still do. I mean, before i even did psychadelics weed could have technically caused psychosis - ive met ppl in psych wards who had weed-induced psychosis who had no family history of it even; one girl who it hit after the first time she smoked, and didnt even smoke much. However, no matter how much and how frequently ive smoked, ive never come close to feeling like it was causing that - the most ive had is weed-induced paranoia and other shit, but nothing once I came down. To smoke weed was a risk in the first place, which i took, and so far its been years and nothing has hit me

When i first tried psychadelics, and acid was the first one, I knew it was a risk, one i took because I know I could handle high doses of weed without losing it, and because I was...... well. I was fucked up. anorexia bulimia suicidality a bunch of other shit, i wasnt far away from a second suicide attempt at all, and I couldnt rly see many ways out of the shitshow i was in - i figured if I didnt kill myself the anorexia or bulimia would kill me anyway...... and so, i decided to take the risk, that everything good ive heard might be worth it. And im very glad I did, bc theres a high chance id be...... either dead or much worse off today

By now ive tripped idk well over 50/60 times and have yet to feel like my brain has been pushed twoards psychosis. The most I can say is that, and this applies only to acid which I dont rly do anymore, when I did later on take probably too high doses and had rly bad trips,,,,, yea, in the middle of the bad trip i was afraid of that possibility (or more accurately afraid the trip would never end) - frankly, I think the fact that I had the strength to keep myself together and pull myself out of it got me through it; i dont know if someone else going through that experience without prior experience and the ability to try to keep it together would have had a psychotic break, idk, maybe so maybe not - maybe it wouldnt have been chemical but it would have been so traumatic that theyd have been lost in the sauce. Or maybe not........ the most i can say is that I learned my lesson w strong doses of acid, and that it did happen that I felt its effects for days or weeks after the trip - not psychosis or delusions - hard to explain, but its like the trip lingers; in good cases this is called psychadelic "afterglow," after bad or exhausting trips its not particularly pleasant

Sooo, idk. Yea, i guess it could happen, fuck it, it could happen with weed too. Its a risk I take. I don't smoke as commonly as I used to anyway, and I dont do psychadelics as often (tho frankly the times when I would do shrooms around once or twice a month were the most productive, stable, sane, happy periods of my life). I hope to God it wont, but it could, even being careful and respectful with it

....... overall though? psychadelics, and especially shrooms, have made me feel exponentially, exponentially more "sane" than I ever was before I took them..... and even particularly crazy trips managed to teach me, my brains a lot more put together and stronger than I thought it was

[malewife-overlord]

Six Cycles Later -- Part VI

Summary: There's a sparkeater loose in Autobot City. Uptick has no choice but to deal with it and calls upon an old friend for aid.

Word count: 6529

Trigger warnings: robot gore, cannibalism, sparkeater being a sparkeater

Previous chapter can be found here, start (and an explanation of what six cycles later is) can be found here.

Fic under cut!

“Worried” would be the wrong word for describing how he felt. Uptick tapped his pede impatiently outside of the clinic, checking its virtual queue every thirty seconds. Forty full minutes had passed since he’d arrived to pick Luster up, and there was still no word from anyone about his progress. 

To say that he was “worried” would be an understatement.

He vented sharply and sent a query to the front desk again, requesting information on the mnemosurgery in Room I12. Almost immediately, the worker pinged him back with the pre-recorded response she’d made twenty minutes ago: mnemosurgery was a complex thing, and until the doctor indicated it was safe for them to contact him, no one was to enter the room or disturb him. Any interruptions could mean the end of the patient, the doctor, or both at once. His concern was noted and rest assured they were doing everything to ensure that his ward was taken care of. 

Six. Hours. If that didn’t scream something was wrong, he didn’t know what did. Mnemosurgery was complex, but it didn’t take six hours to perform. He knew because he himself had undergone it several times. Even extended mnemosurgery visits tended to last no more than an hour–the most talented could rewrite a mind in just a few minutes. 

Uptick couldn’t say he knew much about Redactor, but he’d checked his credentials the moment he’d left the clinic, which indicated he’d been practicing for at least ten thousand years. If he wasn’t experienced, then Uptick himself wasn’t even a real soldier. 

Well, he wasn’t anymore, but the fact still stood. Something had happened, he just knew it. And if the bots in the clinic were too stubborn–no, too concerned–to try checking in, then he would himself. 

And he knew just how to get in.

It was mid-day in Autobot City, slowly creeping towards the evening. The shadows had not yet grown long; in fact, most were still attempting to retreat from the afternoon sun. The season was beginning to shift from what humans referred to as “summer” to “fall”, which meant the sunlight would become more sparse and the night would come sooner. But that wasn’t for another few cycles, which meant when he stood by the edge of the clinic, there were no shadows to hide him–and thus, keep suspicion off of him. 

No, he was a completely normal enforcer and Autobot, he had no reason to stand in the shadows. And he certainly wasn’t about to contact someone with a fairly detailed history of crime. Who would do that? 

Still, he checked to ensure no other mechs were around. The clinic was housed in one of Metroplex’s corners, bordering a wall and a morgue, so it was a particularly unpopular location. The street that ran by it was not even worthy of being called a street, really. This played to his advantage: such an area was unlikely to attract unwanted attention, and thus–

Primus, was he truly thinking like this now? The war was over. He gave his helm a knock and reminded himself that she’d been pardoned, as had he, and contacting her wasn’t illegal. 

Though, his request certainly was.

Pulling up Channel’s contact in his HUD, he promptly called it. It would be a long distance contact, so he expected a long wait, but surprisingly, after only twenty seconds, they connected properly. 

She answered after three rings, as she always did. He was immediately met with the background ring of drilling.

“Tickers, I hope you got a good reason for callin’ me at this time.”

"Channel!” He smiled despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. “It's good to hear your voice! I hope you're doing well, I need--"

"Hold that thought, Tickers, I just found the lil' fraggers responsible for this entire operation. Get...over...here...you...little!" Her voice quieted for a moment as she grunted and hissed. "Ow! Come on--oh, stop squirmin', you, you know you ain't feelin' nothin' right now—almost—ha!" 

An angry squeak deafened the line accompanied by the tearing of metal. Uptick's optical ridges furrowed in concern. 

"What are you doing?" He asked. “Are you, uh, with a patient?”

“You can call ‘em that, sure. Hey, you can get up now, the fraggers are out. " Her voice grew a little distant as she continued. "Soak in some fresh water for a few hours 'n lemme know if the itchin' comes back. Aight, go on 'n get now."

He heard another voice say something unintelligible, followed by the sound of pedes. Then Channel vented, a clacking and angry chittering joining her as she spoke. 

"Sparklets, Tickers. I just pulled sparklets outta that ‘bot’s chassis.” 

“You’re still practicing medicine? Didn’t you–”

“It ain’t medicine,” she interrupted. “It’s fixin’, there’s a difference. One only needs wits ‘n the other wants fourteen-hundred kilocycles ‘a school. Who out here got time for that nowadays?” 

She huffed. 

“Sparklets, Tickers. Not scraplets, sparklets. They're straight up evolvin' to start tryin' to eat sparks. What’s a doc gonna say, take four an call in the mornin’? You’ll be drained fully before then!" An echo of a dozen little sparklets being tossed in a cage sounded. "Yeesh, I tell you, I've fought on fifty different planets n' ten times that many battlefields, an' I ain't seen as many weird things up there as I have down here. The nerve a' this planet n' it's creatures!" 

Finally, she leaned against something, her plating creaking in response to the action, and grumbled. "Alright, present n' willin'. What're you callin' about?"

He did a quick scan to check for anyone listening before speaking. "For a favor, Channel, if you would be willing to hear me out. You know I’m trying to stay clean with this work--"

"Yeah yeah, I know. You ain't boutta ask me to disable another Energon vault lock, are ya? Roddy Prime's pardon had some fine print, I tell you, an' that print states I lose my immunity if I go around unlockin' more vaults. I ain't gettin' in trouble 'cuz you got a fueling problem, Tickers, sorry."

"No, it's nothing like that," he frowned, sounding hurt. "I've worked on my habit, you know this, Channel. I'm clean! I've been clean since..."

A pause. He didn't want to say that name, and he knew Channel didn't want to either. She was quiet, which was uncharacteristic of her. 

"Since the end of the war," he finally finished. "No more of that."

"Aight then, what're you wantin' me to pick, then? You got about fifteen kliks—sorry, MINUTES, since they're wantin' us to convert to Earth time—before my next patient, Tickers. Try 'n make this quick, yeah?"

"Right, of course. I...wait, you have another–" His scanners picked up on a motorcycle driving by and a nurse walking out of the clinic on break. His optics narrowed slightly. "I'll push you a data package. Can you open your receptors?"

"Ooh. Gotcha. One sec, lemme check the connection–” He felt a slight zing in his head, like a spark had tapped against it, “--alright, we ain’t bein’ watched. Send it over." She opened her link, and he promptly created a data package, wrapping it up with two passwords before pushing it her way. 

It took her about four seconds to break them both. 

"...that's it?" She said with a laugh. "That's nothin'. They don't even double encrypt their files, system's so new."

"How long will it–wait, how do you know about thei–"

"Twenty-four seconds the moment I'm on their network. You gonna hand me the address or I gotta find it myself?"

"I’m…concerned, Channel…" 

“Don’t be. Their fault for bein’ outdated. Get me a frequency and I’ll connect to it.”

Venting, he sent another request to the worker at the front, immediately being met with the same response from her. Instead of accepting the message, he sent it Channel’s way, who took all of five seconds to link to it.

The feeling of her transferring from his connection onto the clinic’s was strange, but it was something he’d become adapted to long ago. Channel could ride the wavelengths between Cybertronians like a meteor surfer. It wasn’t ever too pleasant for whoever she happened to surf upon, but one quickly grew used to the sensation of a slight weight at the edge of their mind. If she was being careful, he wouldn’t feel it, whether he wanted to or not.

Truth be told, that aspect scared him more than some Decepticons, but he tried not to think on it. Channel was an Autobot, and she wouldn’t use her powers maliciously. He hoped. 

"Wow," he heard her say over their connection. "This thing's got more holes than a chronic driller. Aight, gimme twenty-four." 

Their connection closed, her weight disappearing from his mind. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the clinic, tapping his pede even faster as he anxiously awaited her return. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifte–

A voice suddenly sounded to his right.

"Hey, you're Uptick, right?" The nurse from before was walking over, a thermos of Energon held in his hand. "Luster's guardian? I've read your file." When Uptick nodded, he frowned. “I’m guessing you’re waiting on him.”

"Ah. Yes, I am. You wouldn't happen to know anything about his current...treatment, would you?" He asked. "I can't say I'm a mnemosurgery expert, but it has been a while since he was admitted, and I'm just a little concerned--"

"Oh, don’t worry," the nurse said cheerfully. "Redactor's good at what he does, and he's got Epistaxis as his assistant. She's the nursing director for this week, and I've never heard a single complaint about her. He's in good servos, promise. But if you really want, I can probably ask her how it’s going. The secretary said you’ve been out here for what, half an hour now?"

He wanted to trust the mech's words so badly. Luster was in good servos, he had to be, but something at the back of his processor told him otherwise. Six hours without a single update on anything, even just that the surgeon was tired. That didn't make sense. 

"I–" he was going to correct the other mech when Channel suddenly called back, startling him. I, ah, yes! Please do ask! I, uh, have a call, please, excuse me.” 

The nurse dipped his helm and headed to the clinic doors, downing his Energon swiftly before vanishing into them. Uptick gave him a polite grin until he vanished, then promptly turned away from the street and headed into the alley. 

The moment he answered Channel’s call, she spoke.

"I'm in," she announced, pushing him an encrypted data pack. "Here's everything they've recorded since this mornin'. You lookin' for something specific now or--"

He hadn't even managed to start on the first of her five passwords before she stopped. 

"Hold up...what in the...well, I'll be."

"What's the matter?"

"There's this one nurse, Epistaxis." Without waiting she sent him a string of unencrypted data, everything he'd need to know about the head nurse—​appearance, occupation, age, forging city, years of work, monetary value​, favorite color, favorite Energon flavor, and morning timetable. "Check out her schedule."

He gave it a look over and grimaced—some of the patients she was seeing were on full display. Returning his expression to neutral, he vented. That was private information, and he wasn't keen on invading the space of others for long. 

"Channel, this has nothing to do with Luster--"

"No, no, it does. Look. Luster was her fourth patient a' the day. An' now look at the rest 'a her schedule. Missin'. She ain't showed up to any 'a her appointments since she saw him."

His spark felt cold. "Channel, what about--"

"Already lookin' into him. Redactor, right? Mnemosurgeon, fresh offa Cybertron. Rich story, that one. Most recent victim of an Autobot prison break." She huffed. "Alright, there he is—​wow, clear schedule for the day, just work on your mech. Looks innocent eno--"

She stopped. Before he could even speak the data was jammed through their connection and flooded his head. Uptick had to blink a few times as his processor attempted to focus entirely on its new contents and momentarily shut off his external senses. 

"Gentle, Channel, please--"

"He's missin', Tickers."

And that made him shut up, letting his optics blur and his senses dull as he dove into the data. Redactor's schedule was cleared for the day as Channel had said, with his focus to be entirely on Luster. But there were periodic checkpoints he was required to update as he went along. The first of these had been at 11am. 

He hadn't even made the first. 

"They're both missing," he said aloud, then immediately shut himself up. No one was nearby, but Uptick didn't quite trust that everything was fine. "Channel, can you--"

"Camera's ain't in use in patient rooms, Tickers."

"Then I...why haven't they told me? Why haven't they alerted me? If they're both missing--"

"Maybe they're hidin' something. You seen any other Enforcers around?"

"No, I...I haven't." 

Hiding something. If they were hiding something, they wouldn't have alerted any of the Enforcers. Word spread quickly once those like him were alerted. But what could they want with Luster that was worth hiding?

Whatever it was, he didn't like it. Something was wrong, and he wasn't the type to let it pass idly by, taking everyone he was supposed to protect with it. Uptick turned back to the clinic’s front and frowned. The information he'd acquired was done so illegally, he couldn't just waltz in demanding anything, not if he wanted to keep his position. 

"Channel, help me think of a--"

"Hold that thought, Tickers, I've got another patient to deal with. Call you once I'm sure he ain't a wannabe Prowl."

Their connection severed before he could protest. Uptick blinked a few times, steadying himself. The nurse who’d offered to check on Luster, what about him? He tried to ping the secretary, asking to see the fellow, only to be given her pre-recorded response again. Frustrated, he balled a fist and stormed for the doors, prepared to demand to speak with someone real.

Which was right about when the alarm went off.

----------------------------------

The warning came just as he'd reached the back of Autobot City, a full hour after he'd originally expected it to. It blared over his systems, momentarily drowning out the endless screech of his notifications with its message: 

A SPARKEATER HAS INFILTRATED AUTOBOT CITY. LOCKDOWN INITIATED. ALL CITIZENS SEEK SHELTER.

There it was, that damn word that he didn't want to speak or think, that reminded him of just how bad his situation was. The word that made it impossible for him to call this place home. The word that defined the mystery of his past and made him wonder if he'd ever really been a true Cybertronian. 

He'd run out of time here. And he wasn't even close to properly escaping it. 

Escaping the clinic hadn’t been easy. It had taken him hours to quietly drill through the back wall, creating a small hole that had opened into the back alley. He’d lucked out in the clinic’s location–it’s back alley joined with the space behind the morgue, which then led to a back street that he’d followed to Autobot City’s waste disposal site. It had taken a lot of dumpster pushing and a lifetime of mini spark-attacks, but he’d really done it:

he’d escaped that damned clinic with his captive, and no one had seen him do it.

Redactor was a constant weight on his tentacles, two of which had wrapped around his body and moved to drag him behind. He'd tried to carry him, but the two weren't sufficient for the task, and using all four would leave him vulnerable. He needed his weapons in case anyone found him. If they found him, they'd try to stop him, and with how much his processor was screaming, he didn't know how long he could keep himself from giving in. 

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCESEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

It had stopped feeling like a suggestion the moment he revealed himself. With such a constant screaming the only way for him to take his mind off of the order was to focus on what was directly at hand. He wasn't thinking anymore—he was acting, and reacting. 

That was why poor Epistaxis was passed out on the clinic floor, her chassis completely torn to shreds. He’d managed to keep from damaging her spark chamber, but the more he’d torn the harder it had been to stop. She’d been alive when he’d left with Redactor. He could only hope that would stay true.

He didn’t know how long he’d be able to say the same for himself. 

The waste disposal site was large enough to hide him for now, but it was undeniable that they’d find him eventually. He couldn’t hide his spark signature, and he had an entire other Autobot with him. Once they started scanning they’d find them both. 

Where could he run? The bar? Not with a captive. His room? Why wouldn’t it be the first place they checked? The clinic? Nope, absolutely not.

Which meant the only place to go was out. 

He dragged Redactor (who, through some miracle, was still out) through the waste disposal site, feeling his tentacles strain as they pulled his frame past piles of trash. Had he gotten heavier? It hadn’t been too long a walk, right? He was hungry (starving, some might say), but surely, if he’d had enough energy to escape the clinic, he’d have the energy to escape the city, right? 

Climbing over a few mounds of trash, he found himself face to face with one of the walls of Autobot City. It extended far-beyond the height of most of the buildings, and was doubly fortified to protect against Decepticon attacks. 

His plating was already itching. This would take a while. Transforming his arms into the drill modes, he touched both their tips to a single spot on the wall and set their speed as high as he could.

It was like trying to force a blade through stone. He grit his dentae and pressed harder. It was either break through, or die in here, or become a science experiment for Perceptor. He didn’t fancy the other two options. 

The alarm continued to blare in his head as he increased the speed of his drills, working to try and expand the wound inflicted upon Metroplex. The urge to fully transform and speed this up exponentially made him start to feel twitchy, which made his tentacles coil tighter around their prey. Transforming would make his escape quicker at the likely cost of preventing it entirely—the noise ​of a whole drill tank would surely attract other Autobots. 

Granted, his current method wasn’t exactly the quietest either, but there didn’t seem to be anyone working today, so he didn’t have any unwanted visitors to worry about. If he did, though, he’d just have to knock them out as well. A quick jab through the chassis would do it, followed by a jolt of electricity. He could hide their body in one of the many trash piles. Then he’d just–

Primus, what was he doing!? The thought made him pause. He'd revealed himself as a Sparkeater and taken a hostage! He’d attacked a nurse and doctor and shocked them into submission! The entire city was locked down and Enforcers were prowling looking for him! If he was found he was dead, and yet here he was, loudly drilling the back wall and praying that no one would find him!

He felt sick all of a sudden, his arms falling to his side as a sickness spread through his body. Whatever warnings he received were immediately drowned in more notifications, clouding his head and making him groan. He focused back on drilling. 

The hole was expanding by a few millimeters at a time. Theoretically it could be finished in the day if he kept up this pace. Theoretically he'd be noticed by then and taken to prison. Theoretically he could survive being taken apart and held in pieces forever to study. Theoretically--

A groan sounded behind him. His spark skipped a beat. 

"Uuugh...where...?"

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

His tentacle shot out and jammed its jaws back into Redactor's chassis, intending to shock him again. But when he focused...the shock never came. Luster paused, glancing back at the twisting appendage and trying again. No electricity crackled through it despite his best attempt.

The writhing made Redactor squeak in pain, his frame squirming beneath the intrusion upon it. "Ow! Stop, please! What are—why are you doing this?" He tried to pry his arms free and failed, visor lighting up as he came properly online again. "Who are--"

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

"Sh," Luster shushed, pulling the tentacle out of his chassis and instead moving it to his mouth. How badly he wanted to instead plunge it into his spark chamber. "Quiet." 

Funny, coming from him. Raising his head from his work, he quickly scanned the area. The warning blared in his head again, apparently on a two minute loop. There were no signs of Enforcers—​yet. He didn't know how long he had before they found this area. Probably not much more. 

The same warning which gave him a moment of clarity blared in Redactor's head as well, and the reality of his situation set in as the drowsiness of forced recharge wore off.

"SP-SPARKEATER!" He immediately yelled, wriggling wildly against the tentacles holding him. "HELP! ANYO--"

The tentacle at his mouth shot to throat, pressing its claws right against his voxbox. Luster felt awful as he uttered his threat, but he knew he had no choice.

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

"If you don't be quiet, I'll remove your voxbox. I'm not going to hurt you. Just hold still, and be. Quiet."

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

Redactor whimpered. "What are you going to do with me?"

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

He turned right back to his work, drilling faster, deciding the extra noise was worth the progress. The itching in his plating was growing worse, like scraplets had found their way beneath it and were writhing in their nest. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. "I already told you what I want. We can't stop. I'm...you helped me remember Solace. I need to remember more, and I need to remember now."

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

"But...I...Lu-Luster, you know I-I called off our session because, uh, present conditions aside, you--"

They both heard the roar of an engine nearby, followed by the scraping of tires on pavement. The tentacle gripping Redactor's throat tightened, almost daring him to call out. A tiny whine escaped, but no words along with it. 

Luster ceased his drilling, turning towards the source of the noise. They were at least nine-hundred feet from the front, and tucked behind several piles of garbage. No way they’d been spotted yet. 

Raising a finger to his dermas, he crept away from the wall, dragging Redactor’s stumbling form with him. He bee-lined for a large mound of trash, ducking behind it as he listened for his pursuer. 

The scraping of tires ceased nearby, and the distinctive tschu chuk of a t-cog at work sounded out. Heavy pedes plodded at the entrance, pausing there.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” 

Luster immediately cast Redactor a venomous glare. If the other mech had been planning something, the gaze shut him down. 

“I know someone’s here. Your signal’s showing on my radar. Come out. City’s on lockdown.” 

Of course he was scanning for signals. Why hadn’t he brought something to hide his own? Or received an upgrade for it?

Luster said nothing despite the truth glaring him in the face, his tentacles coiling tighter against his back. Redactor flinched as the grip around him grew painful. 

“If you don’t come out, I’m going to have to arrest you,” the Enforcer threatened. “I can see where you’re hiding. Don’t make this difficult, it’s for your own safety.”

Redactor moved a servo to his tentacle. Luster almost snarled at the touch. 

"Don't," he threatened, then let up ever so slightly. "Redactor, I don't want to hurt you. I need you. I'm going to let you go the moment we're really finished. But until then I need you to cooperate with me. Or..."

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

"Or else." 

He really hated having to threaten Redactor. The doctor had done nothing but attempt to help him. He was the monster here, and his actions certainly weren't helping to clear his name. But what was the alternative? Give it time, and give in to his urges before he remembered what he needed to about Solace? Give it time, and lose himself entirely? Give it time, and become a lab experiment for Perceptor? 

"Ye-yes," Redactor responded, voice barely a whisper. "U-understood."

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

He sounded so pathetic. Pathetic, afraid, and weak. Prime for consumption. There was already a hole in his chassis. It would be easily to burrow in and pull his spark free. Solvent gathered in his mouth at the idea. He could take this Enforcer, if he just had a spark–

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

Which sent a bolt of fear as cold and heavy as the nearby stomping pedes through his entire frame. 

“I’ll give you one last chance.” He heard the sound of servos turning to a blaster. “Come out.”

His tentacle uncoiled from Redactor’s throat, the other three joining it as Luster slowly stood. His plating was itching wildly, notifications screaming endlessly. As he walked towards the edge of the pile he became more aware of the humming in his head, growing in volume with each step.

“Okay,” he said absently, raising his clawed hands as he emerged from behind the pile. “I’ll come out.”

“Good. That’s a good–”

He barely had a moment to widen his optics before Energon burst from his mouth, pooling out along with his brain. Pink spattered over the ground as he fell to his knees, coughing, gagging, and grabbing at his mouth. Before he could even try to secure his own mind it was out, dropping to the floor like a discarded coin. 

Luster stared blankly at the dying mech, now little more than the garbage that surrounded him. Redactor gasped in horror behind him, but he barely heard him. No, his focus was on the glowing ember in the Enforcer’s chest, the waning light that promised him life.

His tentacles shot to the body, immediately turning it over and shredding the plating. He followed them, crouching beside it as Energon spattered against his chassis and face. As the light grew brighter and the spark rose from its chamber, he realized that a silence had settled over his mind: for once, there were no notifications or humming. 

Just an ancient, primal urge, compelling him forward, demanding he 

EAT.

The cracking of his jaw was the only sound in the entire site as he dove forward, clamping down on the divine light of Primus and swallowing it in an instant.

It was like drinking warm Energon after a trek through a planet of ice. It was a rush of electricity after an eternity of powerlessness. It was a new T-cog after an eternity of root mode only. It was life itself rushing into his dying frame, animating him with the power to finally move.

His tentacles crackled to life, their power returned. For just a moment his hunger waned, and he threw his head back and laughed–the feeling was so foreign now, it felt wrong. And how badly he wanted more of it. 

A whimper sounded behind him. His optics widened and his head snapped to its direction. A lavender mech was cowering back, terror filling his eyes. 

He rose to his pedes, tentacles spreading out and pointing towards their target. It shook its head and begged in a language he was starting to forget. 

Please, no. Please, stop. Help me. Anyone. Please. Luster, no.

Who’s Luster?

His tentacles shot for the mech’s plating, burrowing for its spark. A scream of pain escaped it, only to be silenced as claws pinched onto its throat and closed. Energon burst from the wound, spraying over him. 

Luster forced him to the ground, moving his claws to his chest. The silence had broken, and the orders were back.

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

The mech gurgled, grabbing at his claws and kicking its legs. There were two bleeding holes in its chassis. 

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

They had pierced clean through its plating and wiring, down to the spark. 

SEEKALTERNATEFUELSOURCE

The gentle light of life itself, gifted by Primus, was peeking out.

FEEDMEIMSOFUCKINGHUNGRY

He obeyed.

—--

A sparkeater was in Autobot City. He didn't believe it when he'd first heard the message played. Epistaxis had been out cold for hours, but it had only taken a slight shock from the on-site defibrillator to online her, and she'd immediately begun to scream about the monster. A sparkeater had infiltrated the clinic and attacked her.

And it had taken Redactor and Luster. 

His spark had fallen into his tank at that knowledge, and he'd shot into the air the second he’d left the clinic. Before the lockdown alarm had even sounded over the entire city he'd begun his search, trying to ping Luster's frequency, struggling to hear it over the noise and his own pounding fear. 

Luster had been taken by a sparkeater. He'd failed to protect the one 'bot he'd promised he would. 

It was just like the war, but this time, it wasn't 'cons he hadn't kept away. 

Aerial support was appreciated by the Autobots below, but the more he'd circled the city, trying to hone in on Luster's signal amongst the noise of everyone below panicking, the more he'd realized just how disadvantaged he was up here. The many structures Metroplex supported made for excellent cover and there were hundreds of places a sparkeater could lurk. Though the midday sun of Earth banished many shadows to the furthest corners of Metroplex, there were still hundreds of corners and only so many Enforcers. They couldn't check all of them at once, from ground or sky. And with each failed search the sparkeater got further and further away. Who knew where it could be? Who knew what it would kill next? 

No, Luster couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. He would not see another Autobot die while under his protection, no matter what he had to do. 

Winging for the nearest communications tower, he transformed back and landed with a heavy THUD on the rooftop. Immediately he opened his comms and spoke. 

"This is Uptick, reporting from tower 3. Everything looks clear up here. What's the situation on the ground? Over."

He received a few pings from the others below who had nothing to say, providing their locations and what data they'd collected—​which was to say, virtually nothing. ​Momentarily he considered sending them Luster's signal, scrambled as it was in the current panic, then hesitated. Even he couldn't home in on its exact location, what good would it do any of them? 

Well, he knew someone who could, but from so far away? Would it be worth it to bother her now? 

Better yet, why not attempt to contact Luster himself? But what if he was dead? 

He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Uptick opened his frequency in his HUD and promptly pinged it, sending his location and a request for feedback. 

It was dead silence for all of ten seconds before he received a response. It was no location, no status, no life signal. What came through from Luster's frequency was a low hum, reminding him of the planetary song of Jupiter. 

And then it went silent. 

Frowning, he tried again, and again. The ping reciprocated once more before the connection closed and did not reopen. 

He growled. Well, if it was going to be uncooperative, then he knew someone who could brute force it. Swapping to his other frequency, he promptly called Channel. 

This time, she picked up on the second ring.

"Ticker's, I got news for y--"

"I need you to hijack a signal for me." Whatever she had been talking about could wait. "There's a sparkeater in Autobot City and it's captured Luster. I need you to find him."

There was silence for about two seconds before she spoke. 

'Well, I'll be. Sparkeater's a bit worse 'an this I s'ppose. Aight, gimme the signal." 

He immediately sent her Luster's signature, then grabbed the tower's satellite. 

"Channel into my processor. I can connect you to one of our satellites."

"Channel into you? From this far? Tickers, ya over three thousand miles--"

"Channel. Please." He vented, gritting his dentae. "He could be dead. I need this. Please. I need to find him." 

She sighed in response. "Aight, Tickers. But ya owe me one later, aight?"

"Add it to my tab." 

The sensation of having his processor invaded by her was a familiar discomfort, like cold energon spilling into his tank. For a moment it was unpleasant, and he was acutely aware that an invader had just ridden through their established connection straight into his mind. She was there and he couldn't stop her—​anything he thought and felt in the moment would be  completely open to her. 

And then she had integrated, his processor growing used to it, and she was the same as any other background hum or intrusive thought. Good, that was the first part of the process. The second was channeling her into the satellite, which he promptly did, finding its frequency and connecting his own personal one to it. 

Like a drop of water moving between pools, Channel slipped from his mind into the satellite's projections. It only took a moment before she began to report back. 

Thousands of signals were filtered at once. He saw Autobot City as a skeleton of itself, populated with thousands of dots of light, which one by one winked out as they were eliminated from Channel's search. The city began to shrink as the signal became more and more clear, zipping past buildings and over roads towards the very back. It paused at the clinic for a moment, then raced along the back wall and finally locked in on the back wall at a waste disposal site. 

Three signals blinked, then one went out as the lock-on finished. 

"Found your kid," Channel announced. 

The coordinates logged into his internal map the second she'd sent them. The second she retreated from the satellite he released it, ignoring the sensation of her mind leaving his own. 

"Thanks Channel. I'll update you when I've found him."

"Right, Tickers, but you should--"

He closed their connection and transformed his arms, testing to ensure that his blasters were working. They powered up in two seconds, as if they'd been used yesterday. Then he tested the launchers on his shoulders, which unfolded and loaded their missiles with the same speed. 

Alright, a sparkeater. He could take a sparkeater. It couldn't be worse than the sixth infantry. Just one sparkeater. For Luster. 

He leaped off the building and promptly transformed, almost breaking his wing against the nearest structure. He was too big to be flying so low. He didn't care. 

Luster was in danger, and he wasn't about to--

An SOS ping shot through his head. It came from another Enforcer, one on the ground. And then it cut off. 

Panic shot through him as he searched rapidly for the signal’s origin, finding it in the exact spot he'd already planned on going. 

Oh no. Nonononono--

Three minutes. He had three minutes until he was there. Three minutes flying safely. 

He promptly diverted all fuel to his thrusters and shot forward, turning the world below into a blur. Thirty seconds. He had thirty seconds. 

Each one felt like too long. 

The waste disposal area came up so quickly he almost missed it. He immediately banked up to force a stop, entire body creaking as it fought against air and age to obey his command. He was a decent flier, he'd say, but no Decepticon jet—cargo planes weren't made for such steep turns or jerky movements. He forced them anyways. 

Primus, his back strut would ache in the morning, though. 

With his momentum halted he immediately began to fall. Transforming back, he used his thrusters to manage what could barely be considered a controlled crash onto the nearest roof, hitting his knee hard against it. The damage came through in an immediate report and the pain momentarily caused his processor to flash. He forced them both to be silent and dropped to the ground, hearing a snap along with the landing boom. 

Luster's signal was less than a hundred feet away, hidden amongst the trash. Uptick half limped into the waste disposal site, drawing in a sharp ex-vent at what he saw. 

Lying on his back, a hole punctured through his chest, was the other Enforcer. Already his frame had turned gray, the death pallor broken only by the pink of his Energon. His mouth was open in a scream, optics wide and offlined. Next to him, snapped free of its cord, was the small orb of his brain. 

Uptick closed his eyes and turned his head away, saying a silent prayer to Primus at the sight. He'd been too late. 

And he couldn't stop now. Heading deeper into the site, he quickly spotted drag marks highlighted with Energon. They moved around the trash piles, heading right towards the back. 

So it had taken its prey somewhere private to kill it. He had hope, then. Luster could still be alive, pinned beneath the thing and terrified, but alive. He had to be. 

It was the only thing keeping him going. With each step his leg hurt even more. It reminded him of the war. His plating bristled, arms already transforming into blasters. 

The marks lead around one final pile of trash. He could see a pool of Energon leaking around it. Just beyond he heard the sound of metal snapping. 

Uptick steeled himself, bringing the memory of that day back to light. The sixth infantry was below him, the ground awash in pink. And around, the jets had already formed into their kill formation, one behind, one on the right, and one on the left. There was only one form of escape: 

forward. 

He trained his blasters on the monster before him, crouching over the flickering body of Redactor. The doctor's cheerful lavender paint had been stripped away from struggle. Wiring burst from the joints where his hands had previously connected. His back was arched, legs broken, and chest bared to the creature crouched over him. Writhing tentacles gripped the open hole in his chassis, presenting his spark chamber to the beast as it lowered its head to eat. 

And yet even as it did, Redactor spoke. 

"Help..." He whispered in a final prayer for safety. 

The sparkeater atop him paused, neck cracking as it raised its head and turned to look at him. 

His optics widened in horror. His spark felt ready to go out. And his blasters trembled as the pain in his knee threatened to drop him to the ground. 

"Luster?"

No. It can't be. Anyone but you.